"Reunited and it feels so good..."

I'm not sure why a classic R&B song by Peaches and Herb actually popped into my head as I started this entry, maybe it was because I heard it used in a television commercial - go figure, I remember something I saw on TV... positively shocking, I tell ya!

Since it is obvious I made it to Singapore (unless there were plane crash reports that I haven't heard about yet), I think I'll take a few minutes and discuss airports and air travel.

Point #1 - Maps are your friends.
I entered Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport a good 1.5 hours prior to my 8:35am flight to Minneapolis (shout out to the 'rents, Dude & Mumsie, for providing prompt airport shuttle service) and made my way through security to A concourse. My departing gate was A10, but I was in desperate need of coffee since my English paper was still looming over my head and due 12 hours after landing in Singapore. As I made my way to A10, I passed a Starbucks at A16 with a line that resembled the main security queue on a Monday morning. It was becoming painfully obvious that coffee was not in my near future.

But thanks to one of the many terminal maps around Hartsfield, I found there was another Starbucks at A2. I walked to the end of the Concourse and, alas! Indeed there was... without a line, no less. I walked up and asked the two very bored employees for a "leaded large coffee-of-the-day". They looked at me funny (coffee of the day??) probably because it was not a "venti chai soy non-fat mocha-latte frappicino hold the whip" and I had obviously been ordering too many coffees at GSU - where was my Starbucks lexicon?? "Sorry, venti", I said.. and thank goodness, because I wouldn't want "large" to be considered "tall", which we all know is anything but.

Point #2 - service with a smile
After departing the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport on NWA 321 to Tokyo - an 11-hour flight on a packed to the gills 747 with crappy seats and no individual entertainment screens - and introducing myself to the guy next to me (a practice I highly recommend prior to any inter-continental flight, especially if you're flying alone), I was greeted by what I can only hope was not one one of NWA's finest flight attendants. Now, I should point out that I've flown enough to appreciate what these people do. They're not simply "waiters and waitresses of the sky" and recent events (such as planes finding their way into the Hudson River) prove we should hope we never have to see them in action. That said, this one - we'll call her "Debbie" - had a demeanor like she was at the tail end of a long shift and someone called in sick.

Debbie obviously was not happy to be there and it showed because she had the bedside manner of a Kraken. She barreled through the aisles like a bull in a china shop, giving passengers nanoseconds to respond to her diffuse offers. I found this out the hard way when I awoke from an upright slumber to find Debbie was offering drinks and had just moved onto the lady in front of me. As she was pouring some O.J., I gently touched (not tapped, not flicked, not scraped) the back of her arm to get her attention. The second the pad of my fingers came into contact with her skin, she jumped as if she thought she was alone in a dark room and someone went "boo!". "Don't do that! For real!", she exclaimed. I'm sorry... "for real"?? Did she really just say that?

Debbie looked like she had a lot of skymiles on her, telling me two things:

1.  She should be able to multi-task a little better without snapping at a passenger who just simply wants a Coke.
2. Her assigned cultural generation moniker does not end in X or Y, so using terms like for real do not make you hip and it doesn't make me feel bad about "startling" you.

I finally got my Coke... but for the rest of the trip I (and the guy next to me) kept wondering how much Debbie had before the flight.

Point #3 - Carry-on luggage should have something "just in case"
I always hear horror stories about people whose luggage gets misplaced and they're wandering around a new city in the same clothes (especially underwear) they flew in, until their belongings make their way to the hotel. Jen had already brought with her some of my shirts and shorts, so I did what I thought to be the smart thing and just threw in a clean pair of boxers. Sensible, right? Well, yes... but here's another tip for those of us who take up more of a seat than others: pack your deodorant in your carry-on, regardless of where your toiletries are. After 30 hours of traveling through multiple cities with varying latitudes, temperatures, and humidity - you're going to be in need of a shower. Unfortunately, even first class doesn't have one of those.

My Mom, the thoughtful and diligent caregiver that she is, made travel kits for me and Jen containing Emergen-C, travel-size Tums, breath mints, hand sanitizer, toilet seat covers, you know... the essentials. Well, Mom, here's another thing for your future "flight survival kits" - travel solid deodorant.

My apologies go out to the polite young Japanese girl who sat next to me on the 8-hour final leg of my journey from Tokyo to Singapore. I started to offer her one (or all) of my 14 "free cocktail" coupons (courtesy of Diamond Medallion SkyMiles member and road warrior extraordinaire, Bob Chapman - you're tha man!) as a peace offering, but she didn't look old enough to drink.