International Flight
Here I am on Song, Delta’s new airline branch. So far, I’m favorably impressed. The seats are colorful and comfortable, with TV screens on every seatback, and I absolutely love the flight attendant uniforms. My first thought when I saw them was, “I want to be a Song flight attendant so I can wear that outfit!”
I got to the airport and through security and made a beeline for the Starbucks, where the slowest family in the world was in front of me ordering milk and breakfasts for themselves and all four of their kids. (A lot of eye-rolling went through the ever-growing line. It’s a coffee stand, not a Waffle House, for pete’s sake.) The woman next to me in line glared at them for 10 straight minutes (without them even noticing) then muttered darkly to her daughter: “Looks like there’s gonna be a smackdown at Starbucks.”
My first adventure of the day was at check-in. The orientation documents I received said that the suitcase had a maximum weight of 75 pounds. This may be, but apparently anything over 50 gets an automatic $25 fee, and mine weighed in around 55. The joys of travel…
The best thing about the Song flight from Tampa to JFK (NYC) was that I was unbeatable for several rounds of the Trivia game. (Yeah baby! The winner is: Erica in 15A!) That is, until Mike in 6B beat me by just a few points. Geek. But I am still listed as #3 overall in my particular airplane’s all-time top 10! (Song is so new that this probably doesn’t mean much, but let me have a moment of pride.)
My second adventure was when I arrived at the JFK airport. I had a massive 4 1/2 hour layover, so I wandered around the tiny terminal about 75 times before I caved and checked out the massage parlor. (Yes, there’s a massage parlor in the airport. I don’t know either.) My massage therapist was a tiny woman from Malasia. I have never had an asian massage before this day, and since I just signed up for what sounded like an ordinary back massage, I was in for a surprise.
My first surprise was that the concept of privacy was utterly foreign to her. As I was undressing, she came in and out of the room multiple times, the last of which I was stark naked. Then, I lay face down on the massage table and the next thing I know, she jumps on my back! At first I had my misgivings about her crawling around on my back, kneading my muscles with her elbows and knees. But from the first swirl of her knee, my spinal column loudly clicked into place, right up the line. (Kinda makes you wonder – who was the first person to dream up this kind of massage?)
Then she ran out of the room. I had no idea why this was – maybe I have a frightening back? The next thing I know, she bursts back into the room and tosses a scalding hot wet towel on my bare back, then leaps back on top of me for more knee-kneading.
To say I was a bit surprised would be a big understatement.
She followed up the massage with random hand gestures, which I completley misunderstood until she spontaneously french-braided my hair. (Apparently, I was a wreck.)
I left a good tip–she totally deserved it. After all, I was just walking past and she used her powers of persuasion (albeit in broken English) to hustle me in to the most bizarre yet entertaining massage of my life. (Oh, and relaxing too. Really.)