I remember all too clearly the dangers that are involved when combining early morning travel and zero coffee. Today another little wrinkle, if you can call it that, was thrown into the mix.
First class seats.
I didn’t really know what to expect. Celebrities in every seat, wild wild west mentality, rampant “please use the lavatory in your cabin” rejections.
Alas it was pretty normal. No celebrities, I still had to follow the rules, and the plane that brought us to our layover in DFW was so small that the ONLY lavatory happened to be mine.
Yes. I claimed ownership of the single lavatory. First class sinks in quick, what can I say. Luckily this is not to be a regular occurrence.
The one difference, apart from the blessed amount of leg room, is the drink service. I knew I’d get a special drink – mimosas aren’t off limits to the upper echelon at 7 AM afterall.
I wasn’t expecting free refills.
That I didn’t request.
It was like my own little restaurant where the sole purpose of my flight attendant/mixologist was to make sure my drink never got down past the halfway point.
I’m no physicist, but I’m certain this had to do with the inherent danger of spillage that accompanies half-filled drinks.
Departing our plane at DFW and true excitement sets in. We’re really going to Japan, like, 3 hours from now.
It was just then, as we were glimpsing our impending departure gate, “Narita, TOKYO” already dutifully up on the gate screen that I had an epiphany. An epiphany I, naturally, shared out loud.
Other people were going to Japan too. On our plane. With us.
Almost like a plane full of friends going on a trip together.
That’s when Adam burst into my reverie of deep philosophical mumbo laughing at the thought of “200 of our closest friends” going to Japan together.
Coffee time it is.