8:15pm CST, Over the Atlantic

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Lavatories on planes are gross. It is for this reason that I suggest you neither eat nor drink anything on your next trans-continental flight. I’ll spare you the gory details of the horrors I just encountered on my first and hopefully only visit to the bathroom. Three hours in, five to go…we’ll see. Already, having only encountered Spaniards on the plane ride thus far, I feel I’m beginning to grasp a sense of the Spanish culture. While we were boarding I could have sworn that all the passengers from Spain somehow knew each other. Like they were friends and family flown into the US for a wedding and now, returning home, could not be happier to still be in each other’s presence. Without a doubt this has been the most talkative flight I have ever been on. Not all the silences and whispers I usually encounter on domestic flights. Granted, all of these conversations are going on in Spanish and I am struggling to keep up with all the conversations there are to eavesdrop on. I had a hard enough time trying to decode my options for the in-flight dinner (I chose “pollo” because it was the only of the three options I was certain I recognized.) Well, though my body feels that it’s 8:30, in reality (what is reality?? Blew your mind, I know) it is 3:30am. Time to give sleeping a try in an effort to suffer less tomorrow (today?).

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