It’s been a while since I did one of these posts, but reminiscing on the flights to and from Australia had me inspired to do one of these.  They were that memorable, particularly the first one.  Middle seat, 15 hours, rude flight attendants, A/V system not working – it was a perfect storm of a flight.  Don’t believe me?  Read on…
I checked my phone’s United app again – just to see if anything changed.  It didn’t.
I grunted in frustration, prompting my husband to look up and say “huh?”
“No upgrades. Â For either of us,” I responded. Â My neck stiffened at the prospect of sitting upright for 15 hours. Â A prospect that was soon turning into reality.
Leaving the luxurious confines of the United Club, we made our way to the gate. Â And to the massive lines forming before gate G102.
“Excuse-me-pardon-me-excuse-pardon,” I muttered, making my way to Line 1. Â While I wouldn’t be enjoying the confines of BusinessFirst, I could settle into my seat before the rest of the masses joined me.
We enter the plane, and my pace slows as I longingly gaze at the flatbeat seats, the personal TV units, and the trays of champagne and orange juice passed around to the exclusive cabin. Â With a sigh, we make our way to row 26.
“You take the window. Â You need to work tomorrow,” I tell my husband. Â Crossing my fingers for a quiet and nice individual to take the seat next to me, I place my bags in the overhead compartment and settle my Baggu tote in the space in front of me.
A woman dressed in athletic clothes slows as she nears our row. Â She puts away her bags and settles next to me. Â Thank you, Ganesha.
She fumbles around underneath her. Â “There’s no power outlets.”
“Are you serious? Â What kind of long haul flight is this?” she replies. Â Woman after my own heart.
We exchange pleasantries with our new friend – she’s headed to New Zealand via Sydney on business, I’m tagging along to my husband’s business trip.  We discover that we’re flying  back from Sydney on the same day.
Passengers get settled, the security demonstration airs, and we take off. Â Uneventful, but I’ll take it.
Once we hit the cruising altitude, the attendants come around. Â One is brusque and aloof. Â “Here’s-your-meal” she barks, nearly throwing my vegetarian dinner at me as she storms up the aisle.
Helpful hint – always order the vegetarian, and the Indian vegetarian if you can score it. Â It’s halfway decent, and you’re served first.
The meal and drink carts make their way down the aisle. Â The food cart reaches our aisle, dragged by the surly attendant.
“Excuse me, but is there another vegetarian meal?” my husband asks.
“NO! Â YOU SHOULD HAVE PRE-ORDERED IT IF YOU WANTED ONE” responds the surly attendant, throwing the meat entree at my husband.
She drags her cart, stopping a few rows behind us. Â “Geez, what crawled up her ass?” our sporty neighbor asks.
I could seriously kiss the travel gods for seating such a cool, such a normal person next to us.
With the dinners eaten and the trays removed, we settled in for the 10+ hours remaining in the air. Â Eyemask on and neck supported by this godsend, my husband falls asleep. Â I catch up on a motly crew of television – Downtown Abbey, Real Housewives, Toned Up.
Still not tired. Â I glance at the in-flight magazine, noting that Despicable Me 2 was about to air. Â Oooooh, goody.
The movie starts, with the adorable animated minions and kids flitting about on the communal screen in the cabin. Â It’s a birthday party.
The screen goes black. Â Minutes later, an old episode of Rules of Engagement airs. Â No movie, no explanation.
I give up. Â Donning my own eye mask and neck pillow, I settle into sleep as well. Â It’s restless, as I wake up every hour or so to sip water, adjust my position, or just read. Â I’m in the middle of The Goldfinch – a lengthy tome that pairs perfectly with the SFO >> SYD flight.
Eventually, the overhead flights flicker on and the clatter of the carts can be heard.  It’s time for breakfast, and the flight is nearly over.  As in 3 hours left to go.
Just like before, my meal is brought out first. Â Surly attendant comes back down with her cart, a beverage one this time.
“WHAT WILL IT BE?”
“May I have black tea, with skim milk please?” asks my husband.
“IF THERE’S MILK IN IT, IT’S NOT EXACTLY BLACK, NOW IS IT????” she replies, venom in her voice. Â She hands him the tea, shaking her head.
Seriously, what crawled up her ass and died?
Another attendant comes down the aisle with the food cart. Â “Excuse me,” I ask her. Â “What is the flight attendant’s name that just came down?”
“Oh…her name is Sheila*” she replies.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” I say, typing her name into my iPhone. Â I started a new document when I boarded to record my grievances and highlights of the flight – something I typically do on these long haul journeys. Â If United wants my feedback, they’re certainly going to get it.
I spend the rest of the flight reading and attempting to stretch the pain in my neck away (without success). Â Another attendant makes his way down the aisle, with immigration documents in hand.
“Ms. Palepu? Â This is for you,” he says, handing me a flyer emblazoned with ExpressPass.
“How’d you get that??” asks my sporty neighbor.
“Ooooohhh, I’m 1K on United. Â I think that’s why,” I sheepishly admit. Â I’m secretly stoked that I don’t have to spend my first hours in Australia standing in line in immigration.
The flight begins its descent. Â Naturally, the folks on the other side of the plane have a spectacular view of Sydney as we approach. Â Rat bastards.
We land. Â I stand. Â My back joints creak. Â I don’t feel particularly tired, but my body aches are something else entirely.
But I quickly forget them as we disembark. Â Finally, we’re in Sydney. Â And I can’t wait to explore this new city.
* I changed the name of the flight attendant. Â Because, you know, that’s the right thing to do.
