Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

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I’m using my flights and inability to sleep to catch up on some blogs. But I thought I shouldn’t fall behind on this blog while I do the rest so this is more a stream of consciousness than a blog post. Sort of like what my twitter would be if I could use wifi on planes.



I am once again stuck in the airport, absurdly early for my flight. The gate isn’t being announced for another hour. Debated napping, but I couldn’t find a dark enough place, which is odd considering it’s Scotland and daylight is a myth around here.



I bought lemonade and a Ribena. I regret this immediately.



I should have gotten food.



I haven’t eaten since like, 5 PM yesterday.



I need to pee but the guy beside me is asleep.



Someone is drinking a Bloody Mary. It’s 1 in the afternoon.



I need tea.



I’m not going to be able to pee on this flight, I know it.



And I’m going to make it worse with tea.



Oh, apparently we are over Manchester. Yes, that geography means something to me. Of course.



Multiple people are getting Bloody Mary’s. What’s with this flight and day drinking?



Maybe the steward isn’t even asking people if they want one, maybe he’s just giving them to random people.



, I need to pee.



In an attempt to distract myself from my bladder, I have written two and a half blog posts so far. Look at me go.



Okay, I gave up and woke the dude next to me. I feel bad. But on the other hand, that was a very satisfying bathroom break.



Speaking in levels of relief, it was comparable to the one I experienced on the bus ride to London last semester. I apparently have a thing about peeing on public transport.



You don’t actually want to hear about my urinary habits.



Sorry.



I landed and panicked, par for the course, about the very slim window I had to make the flight. I hate layovers. While I appreciate that the travel agent doesn’t want me to be stuck in airports for unreasonable amounts of time, I’d prefer that to the drop-dead sprint I have to do to make connections. I am not a woman of haste. Unless, of course, I’m running away from my responsibilities and/or towards a puppy dog. Normally, going back to Canada isn’t as stressful as going to Scotland is, connection-wise but this was actually the closest I’ve come to fully missing a flight. As my poor mother and friends can attest as they received some rather manic texts on the subject, the airport was closing the gate before I managed to get through customs, check in, and get my boarding pass. There was flashing red letters and everything. I nearly had a heart attack. I have no idea what happens when you miss a flight, but in my mind, there’s all manner of pointy punishment and excessive fines. I think I’ve probably exaggerated that a tad.



It was all a lie. When I finally stumbled to the gate, after running through holiday commuter crowds, down two ridiculously steep escalators, then up THREE MORE escalators , and through the least efficiently laid out terminal I have ever seen, they had only managed to board half the plane.



I was seeing red. Possibly because I was about to pass out from exhaustion and dehydration due to sweating out all the moisture in my body during that ridiculous sprint. And just to rub it in, I had to stand between two really attractive couples that looked like they just stepped off a runway to saunter up just in front and behind me to laugh at my blotchy face, aching lungs, and greasy hair. I was in such a state that the woman checking my boarding pass asked if I was okay.



AND THEN THE PLANE HAD THE GALL TO BE DELAYED. I mean come on! That must be some sort of violation of my human rights or something.







This plane is the swankiest thing I have ever seen.



The porthole window things don’t have annoying flaps anymore, they’ve got weird dimmer glass, like those sunglasses that start off as glasses until you get them in sunlight except these windows respond to buttons. I’ll include pictures, if possible.



What is Air Canada doing these days? Aside from making luxury planes, obvi



They have audiobooks now!



I am listening to Mindy Kaling’s book.



The guy next to me on this flight smells and keeps elbowing my volume control button.



Mindy is so cool.



Okay, I can’t listen to her and blog at the same time. Also, I keep losing chunks of anecdotes due to the random lack of volume courtesy of Greasy McSmells beside me. Bye bye Mindy, that was fun.



THEY HAVE CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER ON THEIR LIST OF FILMS



That movie has probably caused me genuine and permanent emotional distress.



I can’t watch it or I will cry.



I’m such a sucker for a super hero.



Air Canada have games now, too. And podcasts.



I’ve played about 8 games of Sudoku and only an hour has passed.



I’m basically a Sudoku master.



Not so much with the trivia game though. That’s a bummer.

There is a baby wailing. Only four more hours to go.



Greasy is asleep. Possibly dead. The jury is out on that one. I would try and see if he smells of death but he did when he was moving so…



I’m so tempted to take a photo for you people but I refuse to stoop so low.



Well, now he’s awake.



I figured I’d be safe putting on some music to listen to quietly now that he isn’t leaning on the volume button but the minute I get into it, he wakes up and elbows the volume button so aggressively that I might now be deaf. It’s a good thing I’m in Sign Language Society



Three hours to go. I’m currently watching the maps of the journey cycle through on my screen. I was kind of hoping we were chasing the sunset because it’s pretty when viewed from a plane and also because I like the poetry of planes chasing sunsets. Alas, the sun is too quick for us mere mortals in our flying tin can.



Oooouh, we are almost above Quebec. Now that is geography that means something to me.

There is somewhere in the ocean called Porcupine Plain. Why? In what way does that portion of the Atlantic Ocean resemble the mammal?



Oh goody, the people have come around offering their weak tea to which I have previous written poetry.



Ah, nostalgia.



So I’m now caught up on the blog worthy moments of my first semester with two and a half hours left of my flight left.



I’m at a loss. And also a little jacked up on overly sugary tea.



I keep typing really fast because it makes me feel cool and I make so many mistakes before I remember that I am not actually a tech savvy hacker type who can effectively navigate computers.



This fast typing is getting me nowhere.



I ams going ot stop correcting these mistaken so you know waht Its liekt eo be me. Apperecitate the effores I go to to make your reading enjotable.



Okay, enough of that. It’s making me ill. I hate misspellings.



There’s literally nothing else for me to say, unless you want commentary on the Ed Sheeran album I’m listening to right now.



Verdict: Not enough cowbell.



Well, that’s done.



They’ve given us our landing cards. The time is nigh!



I’m grateful for the distraction, to be honest, I was just losing rather terribly at solitaire. There are so many games on the entertainment system. It’s bizarre. Kind of wish they had Flappy Bird though.



I have finally won one game of solitaire. It shouldn’t be as big a victory as it is.



THERE IS TWO MORE HOURS OF THE FLIGHT LEFT. I CALL RUBBISH. THEY ARE LYING TO ME. THIS IS GTTING RIDICULOUS.



This post might end up being my longest post to date. It’s four pages on Word. But then it’s mostly double spaced so who knows.



Oh I think they’re feeding us again! This is exciting! I’ll keep you updated. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.



An hour and twenty minutes to go.



I just won four games of Hangman in a row. I have two skills on this plane and they are Sudoku and Hangman.



If terrorists attempt to take over the flight, I will challenge them to Hangman and I will win and be lauded as the hero of Canada. I might get a cape!



My cape is going to be silver and sequined covered. To distract, you know.



They’ve turned the lights back on and they have given the vegetarian people veggie wraps. I call favouritism! Whatchu got against omnivores, Air Canada? RACISM.



So the lights are generally indicative of being close to landing, yes? But they haven’t fed me yet!



I can hear a stewardess offering veggie OR chicken wrap! They’re gonna feed me!



I am so hungry.



I need to sleep. I’m so sorry for all of you who read this twaddle.



It’s a chicken and cheese wrap. I’m so disappointed.



It’s actually not as bad as I thought it would be.



In an attempt to waste time, I’ve complied a playlist of all my angry Christmas songs as written and/or performed by those whiny bands everyone but me hates so much. For a track listing, please see below:



1. Yule Shoot Your Eye Out – Fall Out Boy

2. Santa Stole My Girlfriend – The Maine

3. This Christmas – The Summer Set

4. What’s This? – Fall Out Boy

5. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) – Death Cab For Cutie

6. Baby Please Come Home – Josh Ramsay

7. December Is For Cynics – The Matched

8. I Won’t Be Home For Christmas – Blink-182

9. I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus – Stand Still

10.My Christmas List – Simple Plan

11.This Christmas (I’ll Burn It to the Ground) – Set It Off

12.Fairytale of New York – The Pogues (because every christmas playlist needs it)



Feel free to listen to any or all of these when the Christmas spirit gets too cloyingly sweet.



LESS THAN AN HOUR TO GO, LADIES AND GENTS. I’M PRETTY MUCH HOME ALREADY.



I need to pee. Not from excitement, just generally.



I have the world’s most suggestible bladder. I could be dehydrated and left in a desert for two days and if you said ‘hey, do you need to pee?’, I will need to pee.



So much of this blog is dedicated to my bladder today. I swear I don’t normally think about it that much, I’m just having an off day.



Fifty five minutes.



I have Here Comes The Sun on repeat. That’s one of the few songs that I’ve heard a million times without hating it.



I have no idea what I’m doing. And I mean that in an immediate sense and also in a general sense.



I should make some life goals. Resolutions and stuff



Fifty two minutes.



I am 313 miles away from Toronto.



308 now.



This countdown is killing me.



There are almost as many words in this blog as there is in my average essay. Probably more, actually. You’re essentially reading an essays worth of random thoughts in my brain. I should probably edit this before I put it up. Not that any of you would know if I did or not. Maybe this was exponentially longer originally than what you’re reading now. Who knows. I’ll never tell. I’m like Gossip Girl like that.



XOXO, Adrianne.



Nah, it doesn’t have the right ring to it.



The little plane graphic is pretty much resting on top of the TORONTO point. I call LIAR. I DO NOT SEE TORONTO. I DO NOT SEE ANYTHING. IT IS NIGHT.



Forty five minutes.



I’m trying to see how far ahead my Mac’s calendar will let me plan. So far I’m at December 3848. It’s rather endearing that it thinks it’ll be around that long.



I don’t know if it’ll actually stop. I might be doing this into perpetuity.



Watching the calendar whizz by with The Beatles in the background is actually kind of hypnotising.



Surely it’s going to have to stop. It’s gotta know that, after a point, this is all just excessive.



I’m at 7240 with no signs of it stopping, except when I switch screens to type this crap



We are beginning our descent. We will be at the gate in 40, so says our captain who is speaking.



I’m at 9789. I have officially lost control of my life.



IT GOES PAST 10000. WHY WOULD ANYONE NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE CALENDAR IS GOING TO LOOK LIKE PAST THE YEAR 10000?





I give up. See you in a bit, guys.

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