Day One

Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009

Currently soaring at 30,000 feet somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, I suddenly find myself wishing I had put more effort into math in my high school years. I seem to be in five different time zones as once. Scheduled to land at 8:45 a.m. GMT, my body is still resolutely on PST (as well as my computer, which says it is currently 9 p.m.) If the flight left at 7:15 p.m. in Chicago time (which is two hours ahead of PST) and is scheduled to arrive just before 9 a.m. in Dublin time, which is 6 hours ahead of Chicago time but 8 hours ahead of Pacific, how much time have I spent in this flying metal tube, and how much more time do I have to endure the child three rows back who has been screaming nonstop since we took off from O’Hare?

The correct answer is: Ask Abbie the math major, but she’s either asleep or thoroughly engrossed in Deal or No Deal (“I’m mostly watching it for the lighting…seriously, you should watch it, it’s ridiculous.”) and is therefore no help.

Currently digesting my surprisingly good airline dinner (Abbie and I agreed microwave pasta wins over microwave chicken every time) and enjoying my $6 tiny bottle of chardonnay (which I was NOT carded for. The stewardess said if we were old enough to go to Europe by ourselves, we were old enough to drink. Take that American drinking laws), I’m being serenaded by the smooth sounds of Phil Collins on the in-flight 80s station. I have also just realized that the extra $100 I shelled out for the illuminated keyboard when purchasing my new laptop was totally worth it, since I think the entire cabin would throw a riot if I kept my light on any longer. Also, I’m currently grateful for the break from Last Chance Harvey, American Airline’s sad attempt at entertainment. Unfortunately, Speed Racer is next. (But serious kudos for AA showing an episode of The Office.) Also, to the jerk in 36A who keeps taking flash photography, a pox upon your house.

I suppose I should explain the purpose of this blog, mainly because I have six hours of battery life left and three hours and twenty minutes remaining on the flight (we figured it out). For anyone who hasn’t spoken to Abbie or I in the last eight months or so, we’re going to be studying abroad in Galway, Ireland for the next month. In addition to another class, we’ll both be studying Irish theatre, as well as attending the Galway Arts Festival (think the Fringe, then divide by three and give everyone Irish accents).

Anyway, my trip was financed partially by a generous scholarship from the Department of Theatre Arts at California State University, Chico. By accepting the award, I committed myself to making a presentation at the Humanities and Fine Arts Symposium next year. I figured diligent photography and blogging would make that presentation easier when it finally came. My memory isn’t that great, so having visual and written records will help me infinitely.

I suppose that’s about it, since the details of driving through the Bay Area and our subsequent waits in two different airports would probably bore you to tears. Unfortunately, there is still just under three hours left in our flight and since turning on my lamp to read is out of the question (I’m considerate of my fellow human beings, so sue me), I’m faced with the choice of enduring the seizure-inducing Speed Racer or trying to catch some sleep in my uncomfortable airline seat. I, for one, choose sleep.

But never fear, because a quick glance out the window has showed hope dawning on the horizon—literally. The sky is significantly less dark and a view across the cabin shows red streaks slowly starting to appear in the sky. Daylight.

Sing me to sleep, Phil.

Next stop: Dublin Airport, a possibly dodgy pub for breakfast, and then the Guinness Factory.

(What? You really expected us to come all this way and NOT visit it?)