Making friends with bread + butter

Why does it always feel like a mad scramble, getting to the airport?

The morning of our flight to Spain, we woke up, finished several tasks around the house, dealt with my snack-packing crisis, and, eventually, headed out the door.

That's me on the left.

In typical Jason + Evy fashion, we stopped at the bank on the way to the airport to exchange some USD for Euro. I know- who does that?! We do. We happened to get the chattiest bank teller in the building too, so the process wasn't as speedy as we hoped. As we were talking to the bank teller about our trip, she asked,

"When do you leave?"

I responded cheerfully,

"We're on our way to the airport after this. Our plane departs at 3:50pm today!"

She stared at us as if we had just ordered a side of nachos with our Euro.

"Wait. Your plane leaves today?? You should be at the airport already!!"

Yeah. It was 12:30pm. But we still felt like we were making good time.

We arrived at O'Hare at 1:15pm, and by 1:32pm we were past security, standing in some sort of food court. That's the magic of not checking baggage (you should have seen THAT line) and printing our boarding passes at home.

After enjoying a couple drinks and guacamole at the bar, we made our way to the gate- arriving promptly at 3:15pm. Boarding hadn't begun yet, so we waited.

And waited.

3:30pm. Still waiting.

3:40pm. Shouldn't we be boarding this plane if we're scheduled to leave in 10 minutes? [Looks out window] Wait, there's no plane...

"Um, Jason? Are we at the right gate?"

Yup. Right gate. And the gate is packed with travelers staring at their electronic devices.

3:45pm. How has there not been an announcement?? And why do I seem to be the only concerned person in this space?!?

And why the heck isn't there a plane at the gate yet??

3:50pm. I'm asking the man at the counter about this. I politely approached-

"Sir? I'm sure you've received several question [actually, no one seems to have asked ANY questions], but what time do you expect that we will be boarding? We have a connecting flight in Dublin that departs an hour after we land..."

The younger-than-me man smiled and said,

"We should be boarding shortly. Even if we depart late, we should still get there around the same time."

Oh really? I don't fly planes, so I don't know how that works- would be just drive faster? Also- THERE'S NO FREAKIN' PLANE AT THE GATE! WHAT will we be boarding shortly?? Have I finally gone insane?

But I didn't want to crush his spirits by pointing out the elephant in the room, so I smiled and said, "Ok. Thank you." I mean, truth be told, I'm quite patient with a positive attitude as well.

In the meantime, Jason had made friends with a lovely girl from Galway. She too seemed to notice that all was not right. Great- three of us crazies. We'll stick together.

Meanwhile... 4:15pm... 4:45pm... 5:00pm...

Still waiting.

Nearing 5:30pm, my optimistic buddy spoke into the microphone announcing that we would begin boarding, but that we would be seating on a first-come, first-served basis. Free seating, they said. Families first. Great- this seemed efficient.

Stepping onto the plane, all the puzzle pieces fell into place. It became apparent that they had pulled the airplane out of storage, and that it hadn't been used since around 1979. Well, that was my own estimation. Additionally, although we were supposed to be flying Airline XYZ, you would not have known this fact by glancing at/around the plane. Nothing was marked with the Airline XYZ brand. Not even their color-scheme. Has anyone even checked to see if this thing [still] flies? I mean, there weren't even TV screens on the back of each seat.

As we hustled onto the plane, Jason, Galway, and I found a row of three seats together. Okay, things were looking up!

Take-off was a breeze. And we were provided with free beer and wine, so that softened the blow of our archaic jet.

They fed us a lot, it seemed. Perhaps they just wanted to help us eat our feelings? I gave Galway my bread and butter from dinner, so I guess you could say things got pretty serious. She was elated, to say the least.

I would like to take a moment to thank the airline for dusting off the VCR to play us a few movies. Upon plugging in my ear buds. I discovered that the volume was set to 10- and there was no adjusting... unless you were bumping up to 11.

So, I opted for reading lips in an effort to preserve my hearing. I'm still trying to figure out the premise for Night at the Museum.

I mainly slept, wrote, and people-watched. Perhaps it seems silly (i.e. creepy) to people-watch on a plane. I guess I should say person watched.

I was simply fascinated by this woman who seemed to get up out of her seat about every 3-5 minutes- digging through her overhead compartment, putting something into a bag, taking something out of another bag... adding on layer after layer of clothing. At one point she was wearing her coat, scarf, and a hat. She was reading a book... then she got up to put it away. Then she needed a snack. Several snacks. "I like snacks too," I thought.

It was utterly delightful.

Needless to say, the plane made it across the ocean. We landed in Dublin late (shocking) and missed our connecting flight to Barcelona, but Airline XYZ gave us a complimentary hotel room for the day, which included an Irish breakfast buffet (where I enjoyed my own GF bread and butter)! WOOHOO! We ate, napped, showered, and caught our evening flight.

Barcelona, Spain. We had finally arrived!