First United, Then Alone...

Once again my eyelids fluttered open to face a white pillow, but this pillow was not large, soft or down. This was a measly airline pillow that had a freshly washed and de-static cover over the cotton balls that made up its entire existence. My rear was hurting and the window next to me was rattling. It was a common occurrence to have my rear end hurting while seated in an aircraft. In fact I can not remember a single instance in the past two years that my butt has not been sore after a flight longer than 45 minutes. I tried to readjust, but apparently United gives less room than Continental in coach. If I had opted to purchase the "Economy Plus" ticket I could have gotten the extra 5 inches of room for the previously mentioned $109 extra. I wasn't about to spend more than I would normally spend on an entire hotel room for a measly 5 inches of space.

After several adjustments I fell back asleep, and after another several sore awakenings we were almost in Washington D.C. Breakfast was served so fast. I scoffed down the meal and remembered that I still had to fill out a customs slip. They had run out of the English version, so I used my new friends form as a guide and filled out the Portuguese immigration form instead. I was becoming quite the pro at international travel. I had not even finished the form before we had touched down on the ground. The woman in front of me was complaining again to the flight attendant, and I just wanted to tell her to shut up and understand the fact that this is in fact "coach" not first class. If she wants a seat with no problems, next time choke up the extra $6,000 for a ticket. We finally disembarked, and my Canadian friend and I went our separate ways, bound to meet again since we were both on the plane to Boston.

The immigration line was slow, but I made it through and cleared my cashews and the and $750 worth of product I was bringing across for Lori. I rechecked my bags on to Logan International Airport, and then walked through the airport until I found the appropriate gate. There were several familiar people that had been on the flight from São Paulo including the Canuck. I was fortunate enough to be seated in the very first row of the plane, after first class of course. This was an emergency row. Even though United had not served me my Wheaties that morning, I felt that I could complete the necessary functions should the aircraft be put into a state of turmoil. I didn't know exactly what I would have needed to do had we gone down over Chesapeake Bay, since the instructions were in the "seat back in front of us". Since the only thing in front of us was a big black flight attendant named Steve, there were no instructions. This would probably doom the remaining survivors of the flight had any problem arisen.

The flight was relatively uneventful. Even though my Canadian friend and I had been reunited, his seat was toward the back of the plane. After we landed, I was the first one off so I never saw him again. I hope his catering for 3,500 Irving Oil employees goes well this upcoming weekend. I called my mother and told her I had landed, then quickly phoned Uncle Tim to make sure he knew that he wouldn't have pick up Mark and Lori that day. My bags were just coming out of the tunnel when I arrived at the baggage claim. I only hoped that my mother would be as punctual as the suitcases had been. Even though the bags weight 70lbs each, I didn't have enough singles to spring $3.00 for the push cart. Is it just me or have they raised the price on those things? It took me nearly 10 minutes to carry the ridiculously heavy bags out to the curb, where I sat on a bench and waited for my mom to arrive...