On the days I travel to Denmark, a Town Car picks me up around noon and takes me to Newark, where I catch an early evening flight.
This is how my last trip went…
During cocktail hour, I read The Bell Jar (again) while sipping a crisp South African Sauvignon Blanc.
I put a pillow behind my back, and one on the middle arm rest, then kind of draped myself between them, so I could sort of lie down without being too uncomfortable.
Except in this case I didn’t have any fun, and was basically just tired, out of alignment, and feeling a bit shortchanged on the market value of my soul.
Once I landed in Copenhagen, I had 35 minutes to clear security, clear passport control, and run from terminal C to terminal A.
Usually my plane is late or I’m delayed somewhere along this gauntlet, and have to rebook on a later flight. I lucked out this time, and my luggage made it, too!
Running, weight training, and Birkenstocks paid off here on my power walk from one end of the airport to the other, hauling my camera rig, and a backpack filled mostly with a laptop and books.
This is really not the kind of plane you want to fly on if you’re afraid to fly. It’s not that I think flying is unsafe, it’s just that a plane crash would be such a horrible way to go.
An hour or so later, I was hauling my luggage to the rental car place, then to the hotel where I promptly unpacked, showered, drank a Coke (with sugar, not corn syrup!), and attempted to stay awake by working until 8PM local time in hopes of acclimating to the time zone.
Except for the space age white corridor, that is one depressing trip.