Monday, September 24, 2012
Forget snakes, what about movies on planes!?
I used to love traveling. Once those wheels left the runway I was off on an adventure and no one could touch me. There was something freeing about being beyond the reach of phone, doorbell, or computer. For that suspended space in time no one could get a hold of me and I could do whatever I wanted--which was read voraciously and feast. I had been known to bring a picnic basket and a stack of library hardbacks. Don't hate 'cause I travel better than you.
This was all before pregnancy and in-flight entertainment. Since Baby Flails-a-lot's external existence my sole job is to change her as often as possible and keep her entertained, exercised, and fed. It is fun, frustrating, and completely exhausting. She's a cheerful child so she makes it as easy on me as she can, but after a flight with her I generally want to run to the nearest sensory deprivation tank.
My trip to Paris was going to be a grand song of alone time. I was excited. I was going to have a pre-baby, days-of-yore-style adventure, and I was going to love it. Only I didn't. Not like I expected. Turns out when you've spend almost every waking hour of the last two years with two other people (Husband-cat works from home, remember, and baby is a always-present force) you can lose your world's-best-traveller superpowers.
I got on that plane with my food and my chocolate. Got myself all comfortable with my travel book, read a page or two and....passed the hell out. Woke up stiff and grumpy to a darkened plane. Realized age made plane sleep not cool. Decided against turning on the overhead light because, really, where the hell were my reading glasses anyway? Discovered the movie selection was awesome and proceeded to lose my damn mind watching movies.
In the the last two years I've seen the Hunger Games (why the hell did I think that was a good idea?) and the first twenty minutes of the Fast Five (thanks screamy baby!). Discovering a kabillion movies from the last five years made my heart race. Not that I'm a shut-in, but damn. The power of pop culture compelled me!
I watched Haywire (so much better than critics said), the Mission Impossible with Jeremy Renner (mmmm, biceps), 21 Jumpstreet ("Korean Jesus has better things to do than listen to you!"), the second Sherlock Holmes (body suit, much?), The Rock (oldie but goodie), and most of the Descendents. Yes, that's right. SIX MOVIES.
I actually thought to myself, "Screw you, books. I'm so happy to not have anything to do or anyone to take care of. I'm going to watch every movie I've ever wanted to see. Hahahaha." I felt like a big ole genius...until we landed. I stumbled off the plane like I just had the world's worst bender. Everything was bright, people were gibbering at me, and I couldn't figure out why the ticket machine wouldn't give me a train ticket (hint: they hate credit cards or paper money, bastards that they are).
Turns out overdosing on movies is a terrible idea. I have a flight to Texas on Wednesday. What are the odds I learned my lesson?
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