In this first travel-related post, I will discuss events prior to and including the plane trips to the europe.
I was set up to move into a new apartment two days before leaving. After a major lease snafu, my sister had been able to move in at the beginning of the month, and I was supposed to be able to move in on the 16th. The girl whose room I would be taking was apparently sketchy as balls and, on the morning of the 16th when I showed up with a uhaul full of Bullshit I Do Not Need, not only had she not moved out as she had agreed to do, she hadn't been seen for three or four days.
My father, my friend Adam, and I unpacked all of my nonsense and left it around the apartment, already a disaster zone (in the span of three weeks, five people left and a total of six people's belongings were moved in). As I did not have a bedroom at that apartment, I spent my final two nights in America on top of a sleeping bag in a completely empty apartment. Well, okay, so I spent a portion of my last night in America in someone else's bed, but that doesn't count because we weren't sleeping.
I got crabs...for my Last Supper in America and my parents dropped us off at the airport. Adam and I joined four of our classmates, our instructor, and our TA as well as Kjirsten, a student from the University of Northern Colorado, and
For some reason, I was one of the lucky two in our group to get a window seat. I was rather excited by this, as I love to gaze out the window when I fly, and it doubles as a great place to sleep. Which is what I did. Before we even took off. Yep, that's right. As we were taxiing to our runway, my eyes drooped and my head rested against the wall and I Passed The Fuck Out.
Five hours later, I awoke to a dark sky over a layer of clouds. I checked the display on the seat ahead of me, expecting it to tell me that we had been traveling for two or three hours at most. Imagine my joy when I realized I would be landing in Europe in three hours. Since we were on the Pittsburgh to Paris direct flight, we would have to transfer in Charles de Gaulle in order to get to Copenhagen's Kastrup Airport.
Upon landing, the middle-aged woman next to me makes a joke about the overcast skies looking just like Pittsburgh, and I agree - although somehow it just feels amazing and beautiful and The Best Ever. This is the first example of the phenomenon I experienced many times that I have come to call That Old European Magic.
Customs was a breeze. After getting back into the terminal, we have to walk quite briskly to make our connecting flight. I was delayed briefly, however, because apparently my Scary Red Mohawk frightened a 6'6" solid muscle security guard.
"You!" he shouted, pointing to me. "Show me your passport! Why have you come to Paris!"
Confused and scared, I showed him my passport and explained that we were connecting to Copenhagen.
"Through Paris? Why!"
"We're coming from Pittsburgh. This is the only international flight we can get directly."
"Okay!" With that, he thrusts my passport back into my hands and turns away.
Actually, my mohawk did frighten a poor elderly Korean woman. As I was speedwalking to catch up with my group, she stepped out in front of me. I stopped short and apologized to her in English as she apologized to me in Korean. As she finished apologizing, she caught sight of my hair and let out a little surprised "ah!" I smiled, apologized again, and stepped around her. I felt so bad.
We boarded the next plane, and again I Passed The Fuck Out before takeoff. Before we even backed out of the terminal. And this time, I awoke to the plane landing in sunny Copenhagen, Denmark.
