I normally don't bother with the airport lounges. My exception is the 6 hour layover between Toronto and Regina on my flights home from Bermuda. The Plaza Premier Lounge in Lester B Pearson is located right after the security area, before you go down the escalator to the gates. The admission fee is based on the number of hours you stay, rather than a daily rate. Food and beverages are included (including alcoholic ones), as well as cozy chairs, computers and internet access, and showers. What more could you ask for really?
And so here I sit, cozied in using up the free internet, wondering what I should blog about today since I have been negligent as of late. I don't have access to any of my pictures, so the usual adventures will have to wait to be caught up on. I guess I am limited to the events of my day thus far, the dreaded downs of the ups and downs of air travel. Here's how it went so far.
I tried to check in online, but I was not allowed to do so from my destination. When I went to call the taxi I realized the flight was delayed...this was actually an up as it allowed me more time at home with the kitties before heading to the airport. When I got to the airport and checked in, I was horrified to see that my seat assignment was a middle seat. I hate being wedged between others. I like my space. I tried to choose another seat, but there were only 4 seats available on the whole plane...all of them middle seats. The only plus was that it was row 14, so at least I would be among the first to get off the plane. I got to my seat to find someone sitting in it. She was assigned the aisle seat but was just sitting in mine. I offered to let her keep it, but she had no intention of staying there, for some reason she just wanted to be in it until I was. Strange. As I sat down, the window seat passenger arrived and we all piled back out into the aisle and back in again. And then...the talking started. I am one of those people who can randomly talk to strangers for hours on some days, and on others happily stare out the window or into my book and enjoy anonymity. I am tired, I have a cold, and a crappy seat assignment, and every intention in the world of just reading my book until this is over. Except my neighbour is still chatting. And in a way where a response is required...lots of questions. She is a lovely lady, and it turns out I have even met the people she was staying with, but I just wasn't feeling all that sociable. She explained to me that she still had the newspaper she flew down with the last week, the courses she was taking, the reviews she had read of the book in my hand, a list of books she likes, a discussion she had with another member of a book club about Hemingway when she was in the Southern Hemisphere (and I can explain exactly why she was there, for how long, and where she has been since and in between if you like). Again, lovely lady, interesting life experiences. But we haven't even started taxiing yet.
Some people pride themselves on travelling light. I pride myself on transporting as much of my life with me as fits in the baggage allowance wherever I go. I know all the tricks and trade, I can calculate the weight of my luggage to 49.5 pounds each without fail, and I know for a fact that no one ever weighs the carry on to make sure it's less than 35 pounds. And my personal item is my purse, which deceptively is capable of carrying enough for a savvy traveller to live on for about 6 months while backpacking. Therefore, I did a mental inventory of the resources I had available, and decided to offer up my novel since she expressed interest. I had an arsenal of literature available between my feet in the kindle in the purse, and also pulled out a pair of headphones from the last Delta flight I was on and plugged into the entertainment system. There were 5 movies I thought I would enjoy, but the Book Thief was the one I chose. Through the headsets I could hear my neighbour, still in deep conversation with me. She had seen the movie, and yes, I had read the book, so she was wondering if I knew if the funeral in the beginning was from the Orthodox culture, and why did Liesl's mother send her away at the beginning of the movie. As I watched the movie, stopping to hit rewind many many times when interrupted by my neighbour who wanted to talk about passages in the book I had just loaned her, I teared up several times and thought they did a wonderful job of casting. The movie was well done, but as usual, the book has some touches that I thought the movie missed. For example, they introduce the narrator, Death, at the beginning and at the end, but completely obliterate him for the rest of the movie. In the book, Death tells the story of Liesl, and often he is watching her in scenes...but the movie does not portray this. As well, one of the most touching quotes of the book is altered, and in a diminishing way. I won't say who, but Death says that when he comes for one of the characters, something like this (forgive me, it's from memory), "His soul sat up to meet me. The best ones always do. He was light as a child. For so much of his soul was already given away to other places, other memories. A glass of champagne in the summer. The whisper of music on a breeze." OK, I may have the analogies at the end wrong, but that's the point. The movie simply says, "His soul was light as a child's" and some other much less moving words. I will say that the observations of death at the end of the movie are almost better in the spoken word than the written. I believe the final words of the movie were death saying, "I am haunted by humans."
So basically, my thought for the day, is that if you haven't read the Book Thief by Markus Zusac (again, from memory, but something like that), you should. I am famously biased for preferring female authors. This is a rare and wonderful exception. It is really a wonderful tale with a unique twist. I had no idea it was considered a children's book until I saw it posted there on Amazon (heck of a big book for children).
Oh, did my flights get better? Well, my neighbour decided to let the back of the plane off first so we could keep chatting. I then quickly cleared customs...which is amazing because one thing I am not used to after living for 5 years in a stone house without central heat, is how HOT room temperature is in North America. As I dragged my 3 suitcases and giant purse through the airport in my winter boots and a sweater, with a cold, I broke into a sweat. I thoroughly expected a pat down or suspicious person search. My neighbour from the plane caught up to me again, and it turns out she was travelling with her 15 year old son. I now know why she was so happy to have my company. The terrible two's are nothing. The terrible teens are the real test of parenthood. This surly creature towered over her in stature, but emotionally toddled beside her throwing a temper tantrum. "Shut up." "I don't care." "Good. I don't ever WANT to go anywhere with you again." I'm sure he's not a bad kid. Just at that stage where he is embarrased to be in public with his mom. Still young enough to be tired and overwrought by being stuck in a packed plane. I must confess that I slowly fell back and ducked into a corner before they saw me. Like THAT doesn't make me look even more airport suspicious. Sweaty. nervous, and hiding in a corner before the security checkpoint.
Next stop, Regina, Saskatchewan. In the mean time...I found the lounge. Internet. And Wine. And am here safe and sound, so will smile at the experience and call it a success. Hope you are all having a good day!
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