A domestic flight from Omaha to Las Vegas is not exactly a hotbed of interesting conversation. There are only a few reasons people go to Vegas: 1) to get away from cold weather 2) for a bachelor/bachelorette party 3) a wedding. Most people don’t go there to purely gamble…they can usually find somewhere much closer to lose their money. I would much rather be on a flight from Vegas BACK to Omaha. This is where you get people to tell you all the things that should have “stayed in Vegas”…the transvestite hooker that someone hooked up with or the drug fueled bender. THAT, I would listen to, but you don’t ever hear that on shit on the way TO Vegas. For the next 3 hours, I was content to keep to myself and catch a few winks.
I had a short layover in Vegas before it was off for the short plane ride to Los Angeles. Of course, I couldn’t avoid plugging $20 into one of the Wheel of Fortune slot machines littering the airport. Every other time I had been to Las Vegas I had won money at the airport on one of those machines. This time was different, I don’t think that I even hit any sort of winner….just $20 down the drain. Hopefully, this wasn’t a sign of things to come. I didn’t want any bad karma (Spoiler: I would get some of that later on).
After a short, non-eventful flight from Vegas to LA it was time to switch from domestic to international. I now had to navigate my way around the large and outdated LAX. Although the weather is usually nice…getting from one terminal to another at LAX is not exactly convenient. I had to lug my cumbersome bags outside, across and few lanes of traffic, and wait for a bus to my next terminal. Then, once I got to the terminal there was a bunch of construction and I ended up hauling all my stuff up a flight of stairs to get to the departures area. I arrived at the Singapore Airlines counter sweaty.
Although not a Planes, Trains, and Automobiles scenario, things did not exactly go as smoothly as I would have liked. It turns out the carry-on bag with all my camera gear in it–that was not even questioned on my domestic Southwest flights–was just a bit (10 lbs) over the weight limit for carry-on luggage. I made it clear that I had fragile camera stuff in my bag that I would rather have stay with me. I first tried to move some of the weight to my checked bag, but that was just not possible…it was already jam packed. Eventually, after some discussion, the agent said I that I could take my bag through security and that he would personally show up and check it at boarding time. I felt slightly relieved by that..anything to keep my camera stuff away from the “baggage handlers”.
The security line was long and inefficient…big surprise. The checking of the ticket, the slow shuffle through the zigzagging ropes and then you get to the bins. Now, by this point, the seasoned traveler is already half naked: no shoes, no belt, no jacket. There is always someone though, who is not prepared. It’s like they were standing on the train tracks watching the train come at them and were surprised when it hit them. You know the person…the one who didn’t take all the knives out of his pockets before walking through the metal detector. I had all my things loaded in the bins and it was time for a dose of radiation from the backscatter scanner. I as stood in the scanner, belt-less, with my arms above my head. I couldn’t help but wonder, “How many people have their pants just fall down while doing this?”. I bet there is a daily TSA bet for the over/under on this…I’d put the line at about 10. Luckily, my pants stayed on and there was no chuckling at my “tighty whiteys”…although there may have been some dude in a back room laughing at my backscatter image. Finally, through security, I redressed and headed to my gate.
My gate was in a far, lonely corner of the airport devoid of any real shops or entertainment. There wasn’t much else to do than curl up in a chair, pop in my headphones, and read a book. The next two hours flew by and gradually a crowd gathered at the gate. Since my next stop was Tokyo, there was a lot of Japanese tourists milling around, including a large group of Japanese school girls. They were all dressed in the stereotypical schoolgirl outfits and they must have been to Disneyland because they had bags and bags full of Disney stuff. I just hoped that I wasn’t anywhere near them on the plane because they were also extremely noisy. The chaperons would try and quiet them down, but to no avail.
Soon it was boarding time and a Singapore representative finally came to get my backpack with all my camera gear. As she hauled it away I hoped that I would see it again in one piece. I took my place in the line to board and was soon walking down the ramp to the plane, a massive Airbus A380–the world’s largest largest passenger plane. I took my aisle seat, about halfway back, over the wing and waited for boarding to complete. No one had sat down in the two seats next to me and I hoped that no one would. I usually can’t sleep on planes unless I have enough room to stretch out. Eventually though, a Japanese man and his daughter took the seats next to mine…it was a full flight as far as I could tell.
As the final few people boarded the plane, the flight attendants–all young, attractive Asian women–passed through the plane with plates filled with hot towels. They passed these out to each passenger to wipe down his face and then collected them with a pair of tongs. Next, came a small pouch with a travel toothbrush, toothpaste, and a pair of socks. If the people in coach were getting this what were the First Class passengers getting? Bathrobes, slippers and bottles of champagne probably. Soon the plane was taxiing down the runway as the safety video played on each seat-back screen. Finally, it was time to embark on the longest leg of my journey…the 11 hour flight to Tokyo. The massive plane accelerated down the runway and soon we were airborne.
The first few hours passed….slowly. My seatmates where quiet–which was fine. I was happy to entertain myself with an array of movies and music from the in-flight entertainment system. They had some really recent movies and I watched The Dark Knight Rises. I don’t know what people used to do in the olden days to keep from going crazy on these long flights…probably just get drunk–which I also was planning on doing. That is the best thing about international flights though, you get free booze. As soon as the flight attendants started drink service I started drinking. If I was ever going to get any sleep on this flight I was gonna have to get pretty drunk.
After a beer and a few glasses of wine I was starting to feel nice and relaxed. The booze was not only making me a bit sleepy, but also helping with the terrible cough that I (still) had from the previous few days. As dinner service rolled through I was able to get quite a few generous pours of red wine. The combination of all the booze, the cold/cough medicine I had taken, and the food (a really good fish dish) made for a nice, lucid state. I leaned back in my seat and passed the fuck out.
I had actually managed to sleep most of the flight with the exception of a few interruptions to allow the people next to me to get out and use the restroom. Soon, I was on the ground in Tokyo (Narita Airport) with only a short layover before my next flight to Singapore. The good thing was that my next flight was on the same plane so I didn’t have to scramble to get to another gate. Everyone did have to get off the plane so that they could clean the cabin though. I deplaned and spent the next hour watching some strange Japanese game show on TV. Soon enough I was repeating the process to get back on the plane. I again got a steaming hot towel to wash my face and another toothbrush and socks.
My previous seatmates were gone and eventually a guy in his mid-twenties sat down in the window seat–my first “single serving friend”. He was no Tyler Durden, but he was also a fellow traveler with stories to tell. His name was Zach and he was a Kiwi currently living in Sydney, Australia. This gave us something to talk about since I had been to New Zealand the previous year. I found out that he had been in Tokyo for a few weeks and had went up into the mountains to do some snowboarding with friends. We killed a good amount of time talking about everything from travel, to work, to movies and television. We shot the shit through a few rounds of drinks and dinner service before settling into our own to watch a movie or catch a few winks–Zach had taken a sleeping pill so he was out like a light after not too long. Surprisingly, I was able to get a good amount of sleep on this flight as well…thanks again booze.
I landed in Singapore after the seven hour flight from Tokyo. It was 3 AM Singapore time and the airport was pretty much a ghost town (a really nice ghost town). I had 8 hours to kill until my final flight to Kathmandu. Zach had a long layover as well so we wandered the airport for a while. The duty free shop was still open and Zach still had some money left to spend so we perused the liquor selection for a while. They had some 50 year old Glenfiddich Scotch that was in its own glass display case. It also cost like 25,000 Singapore dollars…just a bit out of my price range. I grabbed a quick bite to eat at a cafe and parted ways with Zach.
The good thing about the Singapore airport is the free internet. Although limited to 15 minutes at a time it helped me pass another hour. I sent an email to my parents letting them know that I was still alive. I also chatted with a few friends from back in Omaha. It felt good to chat with some familiar people in the midst of a long day of travel. I still had like 7 hours before my next flight…ugh…
I spent the remainder of my layover switching between: wandering the airport, using the internet, and sleeping in any place I could find. At this point, I was ready to get my last flight over with. Time though, seemed to be going at a snail’s pace. Eventually though, it was time for my flight to Kathmandu…the end was in sight.
I had settled into my seat by the window when I saw him coming. I had seen this man earlier at the gate: white, middle-aged, shorts, T-shirt, grey hair. Oh, and one more thing…sweaty. I really thought this guy was gonna die. He slumped down in the seat next to me without a word. He just buckled his seat belt and leaned forward to rest his head against the seat in front of him. I could see the sweat glistening on the back of his neck and couldn’t help but wonder which terrible disease he was going to infect the plane with. I exchanged a worried glance with the girl in the aisle seat, both of us probably wondering what we had in store for the next 5 hours. I was just thankful that he wasn’t coughing up blood at this point. Anyways, there was nothing I could do about so I leaned up against the window and got ready for the flight to Kathmandu.
I learned two things on my flight to Kathmandu. The first of which is that the show Wipeout is funny across all cultures. Perhaps, everyone was just laughing at the “stupid Americans”, but I think not…there is something built into every human that just loves to see another person get pummeled in hilarious fashion. I mean how many shows do we have right now, in the U.S., that are just people being hit in the crotch (pretty much)? I saw people try to act like they weren’t watching, but who would break out with a chuckle whenever they saw some poor sap land face first between two giant red balls (Get your mind out of the gutter!). I think the only person who didn’t laugh was the guy next to me. He was still bent over in a sweaty daze.
The episodes of Wipeout flew by and soon it would be time to land. The pilot came on the intercom telling everyone to look out the right side windows for a view of Everest….of course, I was sitting next to the left window. I was still able to look across the aisle and out the other window for a sneak peek. Even through the little porthole windows, the view was absolutely breathtaking. Mountains, as far as I could see. Towering monsters of granite, snow, and ice rising thousands of feet above the clouds. Everest, prominent among them, with its massive granite face shimmering in the afternoon sun. A tingle went up my spine, soon I would be even closer…in the shadow of this giant.
- Landing In Kathmandu
Now, time for the second thing that I learned (or perhaps was just reiterated) on my flight…”never judge a book by its cover”. A metamorphosis had happened in the seat next to me. The man whom I thought was close to death was very much alive and he was talking…to me.
This was my second “single serving friend”! It turns out the man next to me was an Aussie, named Steve, who had a love affair with Nepal and everything it had to offer (he was married to a Nepalese woman). Currently, he was coming back to Nepal to visit his wife’s parents who live in Pokhara (which is a beautiful village about 125 miles West of Kathmandu). I told Steve that I was going to Everest Base Camp and told me of his own journey there, many years ago. Steve offered up plenty of good advice for things to do and for things to watch out for in both Kathmandu and the mountains beyond. The plane had now landed and Steve and I continued to talk as we waited to disembark. He told me stories of the many adventures he had had in Nepal, everything from the drugs he’d tried, to scary plane flights, to the many amazing places he’d hiked to. We walked and talked up to the immigration room in the airport. Steve helped me grab the proper papers to fill out and we said our goodbyes with a hearty handshake. I only wish that Steve had been awake and feeling well the whole flight because he was one interesting guy.
I was close now. I just had to get through the remaining steps to get my Visa, collect my baggage, and clear customs. The visa line was a long, boring process which seemed to take forever. The Kathmandu airport is not the most modern in the world and Immigration control consisted of two open lines, in a dark, dingy and outdated room. Although the wait was long I experienced no issues getting my visa. I had my passport sized photos and my application filled out before I left the states. All I had to do was hand the officer all that and the $40 US to complete the process.
Now, it was time to get my baggage. Hopefully it all had arrived…and in one piece. I was especially worried about my camera gear. I had my tripod lashed to the outside of my backpack and I hoped that it had not fallen off somehow in this whole process. Luckily, everything had arrived in one piece. I slung my backpack across my shoulders and hefted by large, blue duffel (with the Nepali flag on it) in my right hand and headed towards customs. Like Steve had told me earlier, “If you are white they will just wave you through customs”. That is exactly what happened and I just walked right through customs and headed outside…where I had no idea what to expect.
Disconnected: Escapes from the 9 to 5 