First class + boring stuff

Am back in France. Thanks to my dad’s award miles I flew first class on my long trip back yesterday/today. I have to say it completely changes flying. It makes it fun again! I felt kind of dumb not knowing where the tray table was or how to operate the seat, when the family of kids next to me seemed to know it as second nature. I had a yummy lunch and a yummy dinner with an ice cream sundae for desert. Everything’s in glass dishes! And the flight attendants actually have time for you! It was weirdly wonderful. I think I probably slept around 4 hours (I never keep track on planes because it just stresses me out) and the seat and blanket were soooo comfy. I don’t know how I’m ever going to go back to coach. (Although I think it wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t always doing it alone.) Also I watched I Love You, Man=best airplane movie ever. It was really funny. Also I was out of the airport within a half hour of stepping off the plane. Unfortunately I still had to wait in the cold at Montparnasse for about an hour because my plane was late enough that I missed the early train. After being in first class I couldn’t bring myself to get on the RER with my fifty-pound bag, violin, and backpack (although actually I remembered that it was RER + metro and that’s what dissuaded me), so I shelled out for a cab, which was actually under 50 euros, if anyone wants to know for future reference.

So I’m back, I rearranged my room, put my new 500-thread-count sheet on the bed (AMAZING, think I need a slightly better couette to go with it), took a shower (missing American plumbing…), napped, and watched Pride and Prejudice (the short one) with Marie. Tomorrow afternoon I have to go to school to prepare my classes and Wednesday at 8 am it’s back to the grind for two weeks, until exams when I have almost an entire week free except for Friday.

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3 thoughts on “First class + boring stuff

  1. Laurel says:

    You and I have much in common. If I wake up in the middle of the night I try to avoid looking at my alarm clock, for fear that I’ll just keep myself awake all night worrying about how much sleep I’m missing out on.

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