AF 083 - San Francisco to Paris. Last things first...

So... After the holidays, my sister and nieces left me stranded at SFO all by my lonely... Well, actually they were there too, heading to Colorado (of course), and I had Rufus strapped onto my ears so I wasn't that lonely... The plane below is the one we took from Amsterdam to San Francisco, but that's beside the point. It's the same kind...

Anyway. Imagine 11 hour plane ride alone. Even before you board you're kind of bored, right? Then, the cruel facts. I can't not share this with you. And I swear, I'm not lying, not even exaggerating. And yes, I made it home alright. Well, I made it home! Here's how it went...

I check in at the assigned desk. I find my gate, and wait. I observe the other passengers. (I also observe that the people at the gate - and later in the plane, the pursers etc. - are the same ones that were at the check-in desks. Air France short-staffed?)

* A long-haired, tanned guy, in shorts and a leather Crocodile Dundee-hat, twenty-something, is sleeping heavily, snoring, with his arms around a bag evidently full of boomerangs and surf gear. I'm guessing he's on his way back to Europe from Australia... When the plane's about to close its doors he comes rushing in so he obviously wakes up at some point.



* The cute gay couple, probably French, holding hands while they're waiting. I'm wondering if maybe they were in the Castro this morning, as I had been?

* The repulsive 50-something guy, with dyed black (BLACK, PITCH black) hair - not too much of it, though, so he'd sort of combed it forward from his neck... And tight-fitting black trousers and shirt. Oh, and the unavoidable gold chain around his neck. I thought to myself it would be just my luck to end up next to him. Oh, had I just...

Finally, the gates open and we all rush in to our seats. Even though I checked in ridiculously early I'd forgotten to ask for a special seat, so was - of course - put in the middle of three. A Frenchman - completely normal looking (to begin with) comes to sit by the window. He's no sooner seated than he starts picking his nose. Digging, rather, with an incredibly long index finger. And whatever he found, he put his glasses on to examine more closely. Then put another finger into the other nostril. I quickly turned from him...

... to the guy sitting by the aisle. A huge big Frenchman (not actually fat, just huge! His hands were the size of small planets). And that smell...? Ok, I thought, he just sat down, probably couldn't help himself, broke a little wind... Uh-oh, again? And again?? I turned my head away, but couldn't bring myself to face the guy by the window, so stared straight ahead. I swear - my neighbour kept it up for the entire 10 hours!

Three rows in front of me was the one cute gay guy. His partner nowhere to be seen, but - lo and behold - he appeared something like ten rows further up. They asked the pursers (who were extreeeeeeeeeeemely helpful, for some reason**...) to be relocated, but of the 4 people sitting next to them - noone would switch. So instead of sleeping in eachother's arms, or at least having someone to talk to, they ended up like me, bored to death and staring straight ahead for ten hours.

Oh yes, at least we had favourable winds (the plane, that is! Not me...) and the plane ride only took 10 hours instead of 11. I met up with the black-clad, bejewelled weird-haired 50-year-old by the free drinks table, he seemed totally ok. Just my luck...

Thanks to Rufus, I survived, though - his latest album is absolute genius!

** I've travelled by some airlines, and I've seen gay pursers before. Air France has got to have the most extreme, though - I was utterly taken aback by the fact they actually managed to poor coffee with those wrists!