Merry Flightmas
Growing up, Christmas time in my family didn’t mean staying up late to listen for the sound of reindeer on the roof followed by dreams of sugar plums and Strawberry Shortcake Dream Houses on Christmas Eve. It didn’t mean waking up before sunrise on Christmas morning to rush down the stairs to see what Santa had brought. It didn’t even mean turkey leftovers on the twenty-sixth.
But it did mean travel.
As one in a family of six children, we didn’t travel much. We never went to Disneyland or the Grand Canyon or to Iowa to see the largest ball of twine. But every year at Christmas time the family van would be loaded up with kids and presents and sandwiches and make the epic trip to Indiana to visit our grandparents. The trip, which took anywhere from nine to twenty-five hours (give or take a little car trouble), was pretty much the the most exciting thing to happen all year.
Usually my sisters, brothers and I would express our excitement over the trip and appreciation to our parents for taking us on such a journey by trying to kill each other the entire time. In between trying to kill each other, we’d spend our time napping, reading, pestering our parents with perpetual string of “how much longer?”, begging to go to McDonald’s rather than eat the homemade sandwiches our mom had packed, fighting over radio stations and making up complicated laws about who got to use the arm rest and for how long. While Indiana may not sound as exciting as Disneyland to most kids (heck, it doesn’t even sound as exciting as Iowa), for us this trip was filled with excitement, drama and the very occasional Chicken McNugget.
As you can imagine, this made for a very special time of year.
Seeing as travel was always one of those special things only done at Christmas time (like eating cookies with those silver balls on top), maybe that’s one of the reasons why I enjoy traveling so much as an adult. Maybe I travel because I’m attempting to recreate that feeling of my childhood Christmas. Maybe a week in Bali here or a month in Nepal there is my way of trying to experience Christmas year-round (although, I have to say, there was nothing about that entire month in Nepal that felt like Christmas… unless your idea of Christmas involves eating beans three times a day and being woken up, not by reindeer, but by roosters on the roof). Maybe I travel because I’m attempting to revert back to a simpler time in my life when happiness meant Chicken McNuggets and free rein over the armrest. Or maybe I travel because I like to collect packets of dry roasted peanuts and mini-bottles of vodka… who is to know?!
It wasn’t until I got on the plane heading to Australia via Kuala Lumpur this Christmas that I realized I was, in my own way, carrying on a family tradition of traveling on Christmas. Of course, I wasn’t surrounded by family; instead I was surrounded by a bunch of eager Japanese tourists with their indestructible plastic suitcases and an equally eager bunch of Malaysian tourists with boxes of Japanese electronics. But the air was decidedly festive. Kansai airport was decked out in Christmas decorations, including a tree covered completely with Pokemon characters (Of course! What better way to say “Merry Christmas” than with an entire tree of plush anime characters?!).
The Japanese tourists seemed happy to be going on vacation. The Malaysian travelers seemed happy to be heading home. The flight staff wished everyone a Merry Christmas over the PA system once we were all settled into our seats. Children were crying and whining, just the way children do at Christmas time (okay, maybe they do that all year round… but their crying and whining seemed particularly festive this day). To make the holiday spirit just a bit more complete for me, there was at one point, a passive aggressive tussle with myself and the older Japanese gentleman sitting next to me over who got to use the middle armrest. And, while there was no exchange of presents, I did get a few packets of dry roasted peanuts and my very own personal video screen with complete control over what I got to watch or listen to (no bickering over the radio stations for me this Christmas).
All in all, it was beginning to feel a lot like Christmas!
To make the trip even more special, I received my very own Christmas surprise (and, I’m not just talking about the culinary wonders served up as my in-flight meal). Instead of flying directly from Kansai to Kuala Lumpur as I had originally thought my plane would, we made a surprise stop in a Malaysian city called Kota Kinabalu on the way to Kuala Lumpur. Who knew?! I certainly didn’t! My ticket reservation made no mention of this surprise detour. And, in fact, I had no idea that this stop would be made until the plane touched down some two hours earlier than the estimated arrival time and the pleasant Malaysian Airline flight attendant informed me that I’d have to get off the plane for thirty minutes. I can only imagine that the surprise stop in Kota Kinabalu was some kind of Christmas miracle! Or possibly a means to refuel the plane… who is to know?!
The Kota Kinabalu airport was an interesting place to spend half an hour of one’s Christmas Day (and by “interesting” I mean “mildly more entertaining than getting your teeth cleaned.”). The airport was small but tidy and offered an assortment of shops that sold everything from designer handbags to hot dogs, including something named “Deutsch Doodle Dang.” If only I hadn’t been stuffed to the gills with dry roasted peanuts and whatever mysterious meat item I had been served as my in-flight meal. Sadly, I skipped the Deutsch Doodle Dang, but promised myself the next time I made a surprise stop in Kota Kinabalu, I would definitely have to try one out!
The Kota Kinabalu airport gift shop was festively decorated for Christmas, which is not exactly what I expected seeing as Malaysia is predominantly a Muslim country. The shop was stocked with all sorts of fabulous Christmas gifts, everything from toys to gourmet snacks. If only I hadn’t already done my Christmas shopping, I could have picked up some nice things for the people back home… like maybe a pack or two of soft shell crab Pringles. Sadly, I had to pass these up too, but the next time I find myself miraculously transported to Kota Kinabalu against my knowledge, you can bet this is what I will be buying all my friends and family for the holidays!
Instead of stocking up on Deutsch Doodle Dangs and Christmas presents, I bought a bottle of water and a pack of smoked almonds for myself. The packaging on the almonds promised “superior quality fun time crunch.” And, I have to say the almonds were quite tasty and supplied many an hour of “fun time crunch.” That was until I got to the Melbourne airport and I was instructed to throw them away. While Australians may be known to appreciate quite a bit of “fun time crunch,” they do not, as a rule, appreciate anybody bringing in any kind of nuts, fruits or seeds from other countries… no matter how much “fun time crunch” those nuts, fruits or seeds may have, just FYI.
The second stop on my Christmas journey was the Kuala Lumpur airport which was quite a bit more festive and exciting than the Kota Kinabalu airport. While I didn’t spot a single Deutsch Doodle Dang anywhere (not for want of trying!), the Kuala Lumpur airport did have a tram, free wireless internet, a Starbucks and its very own buit-in rainforest, complete with a waterfall and fake animal noises. Which, I have to say, was one of my most enjoyable trips through a rain forest to date (surprisingly for someone who values her life and safety much more than, say, the chance to experience malaria firsthand, I’ve been to very many rainforests). Not only did I not need to fear infectious diseases, leeches or attack by a wild rhinoceros, upon leaving the heat and humidity of the rainforest I was instantly delivered back into the shiny, air conditioned airport. Within one minute after leaving said rainforest, I found myself in Starbucks with a soy latte. If only every trip to the rainforest could be this way!
The last leg of my Christmas journey was the seven-hour flight from Kuala Lumpur to Melbourne, Australia. Before boarding the plane, I hoped against hope that a true Christmas miracle would occur and that I’d be given my very own row of seats all to myself. I didn’t want anything fancy. I didn’t need an entire middle row of four seats to myself (although, I wasn’t about to refuse it, if I was to receive it. Who am I to look a Christmas miracle in the mouth?!). All I wanted was free rein over the middle armrest and no elderly Japanese gentleman sitting next to me sucking his teeth for the entire seven hours. Was this too much to ask?! It was Christmas after all!
If I couldn’t get my own seat, I decided I’d settle for being seated next to an insanely handsome single man; preferably, an insanely handsome single man who also happened to be insanely rich but was riding economy class because he’d given up his First Class seat to some sickly Malaysian grandmother. Of course, he had done this in the spirit of Christmas. And possibly because he’d spotted me in the Kuala Lumpur airport rain forest, had become instantly enamored of my daring spirit (I mean, there I was braving a rain forest in the middle of the airport without a speck of insect repellant on me!) and had begged the flight staff to be seated next to me. I imagined we’d spend our seven-hour flight to Australia sharing travel stories, mini-bottles of vodka and our phone numbers. Instead of fighting over the middle armrest, we’d share it; our arms entwined.
Of course, I knew this wasn’t very likely. I usually hope to find myself seated next to some insanely hot man no matter what flight I’m getting on. But, without fail, I usually end up sitting next to some aging Japanese gentleman with a penchant for teeth-sucking. Or I’ll sit next to a Chinese woman who steals my cookies (this happened once, and, oh man, I was not happy). Once, I sat next to a woman with a hook for an arm. That was pretty exciting (and I can guarantee you, I gave up the middle armrest without a fight!). But she was not an insanely hot man.
So I was pretty surprised when I was walking towards my seat and I spotted an insanely hot man sitting in the window seat next to what appeared to be my aisle seat. As I got closer, the insanely hot man (who looked something like a taller, better built, younger version of Andre Agassi) looked up at me and smiled.
Smiled!
At me!
I smiled back and then instantly wished I had packed a few more cosmetics and some hair care products in my carry-on. After the surprise stop-off in Kota Kinabalu and the trip through the rainforest in Kuala Lumpur, my hair had frizzed out and I wasn’t exactly looking very fresh. The tube of lip gloss and pack of wet wipes that I had thought to pack in my carry-on were not going to be enough. I needed some sparkly eyeshadow, some hair gel, maybe a little concealer and possibly a sandblaster.
But I kept on smiling as I got closer and closer to my seat… until I realized the insanely hot man was not smiling at me but at the insanely hot Japanese woman standing in front of me, who proceeded to plop her insanely hot self down in what I thought was my aisle seat. It turned out, that this was actually her aisle seat. My aisle seat was behind her aisle seat. My aisle seat was right next to an elderly Japanese gentleman, who, by outward appearances, looked like a teeth-sucker. I sat down in my aisle seat, nodded to my new neighbor and glanced forlornly at the middle arm rest which had already been taken. Unfortunately, it looked like the surprise trip to Kota Kinabalu was the only Christmas miracle I was going to be receiving.
Despite my disappointment over not being able to sit next to the insanely hot guy, I have to say my flight to Melbourne was the most festive leg of my journey. For dinner (my third dinner of the day, but who’s counting?! It was Christmas after all!), I was served turkey in gravy (at least I think that was turkey). Dessert was cake (at least I think that was cake) with “Season’s Greetings” written on a piece of chocolate on the top.
After finishing dinner and dessert and settling back into my seat to the flip through the selection of movies on my personal video screen, I started to think that spending Christmas Day on a plane wasn’t so bad. Sure, I wasn’t surrounded by anyone I loved or cared for or could even talk to in the same language. But I was being fed and taken care of. I had my very own personal video screen. I had a selection of over eighty movies and twenty television shows, not to mention countless radio stations. I was heading to a new place I had never been before. And, maybe, just maybe, that elderly Japanese gentleman had an insanely hot single son who’d be waiting for him at the airport…. who is to know?!
