Nightflight (Afternoonflight) to Venus(California). Warning: Long, long Blog ahead.

Note: This post actually takes place on Monday January 7th.

Waiting is always the worst part. T left yesterday. Today I am on my way. My stomach turning knots until I finally get inside the airport limo and then I know I am really going. I look to my trusty iPod to calm myself. Thank you Smiths, Lily Allen and Loney Dear, Elton John even. You all played this morning while we drove to the airport and made me feel like everything was as it should be. My own music video of my life.

I paid an extra $25 when buying my plane ticket to have access to the "exec" lounge. That's what they call it too. "The Exec Lounge". No they don't, but that would be funny. Hoity Toity So and So's Lounge would be even funnier though. Somebody should have told me there would be a free soup and salad bar with sunflower and pumpkin seeds and olives and free chips, more importantly. I would have filled myself up on that instead of walking to the other end of tarnation to buy a cucumber sandwich from a very tired looking woman who, I feel, was well beyond caring about tip-top hygiene or correct food handling procedure.

Actually, I was so discombobulated when I arrived at the airport that I almost completely forgot I had access to the lounge. Then I saw the sign and remembered. I'm glad. All the free stuff they had completely distracted me from the nausea and the cold sweats induced by thoughts of flying. Free TV, internet, the aforementioned chips and salad bar, juices and teas and BOOZE. Hell of booze. Whole lotta booze. Totally un monitored and totally free. Sorry to disappoint you but I had none. No booze equals no barf, hopefully.

Also free were newspapers, and magazines. I grabbed the last copy of the Walrus - too bad for you, hesitating woman, eyeing the same time as me! I snatched it right away. I saw good reading as my lifeline to sanity during the flight. All niceties out the friggin window today. In fact, to further that point, I should explain that last night, I went out with my sister to get a pita sandwich at an Egyptian restaurant. We had to wait while they made 300 chicken shwarma pitas before they did ours and as a result, I noticed this morning that my coat and scarf were saturated with onion stench. I reek. Normally I would be embarrassed, but this morning I just think, "Tough luck, sucka!" about anyone having to sit anywhere near me. My nerves are just a little too shot from thoughts of possible, impending death scenarios involving fiery planes to have room for polite conduct. It's terrible, I know. Grabbing last copies of magazines, stuffing myself with free olives and unapologetically stinking like a big, fat onion.

I "smuggled" in two valerians past customs so I could take one just before boarding and have an extra in case I needed a double shot. Think I'll take that now. One last visit to the executively appointed bathroom and I suppose I best be off to the gate to board. Up, up and away.

* * *

Toronto to Denver

It took off and I didn't die! Thank you Jeebus, for giving us technology so that I can watch Superbad on my own little screen to take my mind off worst-case scenarios, the mildest being that my cup of peppermint tea will spill and scald me during turbulence which, by magic of mention has just commenced. Turbulence ensues. Not happy, palms sweaty, sentences fragmented.

Alright self, get it together. Employ some tricks to calm down. Picture an intelligent, professory type lady with librarian glasses and a chalkboard and a pointer to explain turbulence and how it's perfectly normal and safe. I don't actually know the physics of turbulence so I'll have to make it up...Uh, ehem (say in professory woman voice) "At certain points during an aerocraft flight, pockets of air turbulence may be encountered. When this occurs, gentle harmless breezes may bump the plane in a way that feels extremely alarming but is actually 110% okay. In fact, it's actually good for the plane and full of vitamins and minerals...." So good. That is totally not working. I will turn again to the potty mouth dialogue of Superbad to calm me, Oh, PING, seat belt signs off. Turbulence done for now.

By the way. I can't really say that Aircanada sucks too much ass, although they are known for sucking much ass. My flight was on time, I was able to soil the executive lounge with my common-ness for only 25 bucks, I hardly had to wait at all to get to the gate from the online check-in and that Steward just keeps going up and down the aisle seeing if anyone needs anything. It's the fourth time he's come round offering water in the last hour. "Air Canada: Fly with us and drink much water. We totally don't suck ass!" (Why can't I run my own ad agency? I would like the world so much better if I were in charge of it's publicity campaigns.) Maybe they put stuff in the water. Quaaludes to keep us all docile? I'm down with that. Ha ha, get it? "Down" with that. I'm so smart.

* * *

Watching the Office now. If I had known I could watch all this stuff on the plane I wouldn't have needed to bring on that library of printed material. 2 free magazines, a newspaper, a learning German textbook and a new fiction book (Kate Atkinson). Why was I thinking I would possibly need that much to read to get through six hours of flying? I guess some people would have doused their anxiety with free booze while I figured learning another one of the ten million verb tenses in German would be the ticket to relaxation for me. I do wish I'd taken more free chips though. Chips would be more useful to me at the moment. Oh NO WAY! They have the Quebec version of The Office. "La Job". Oh, they don't write their own episodes, they just do the british ones but in french. That's poopy.

Anyway, The Descent begins. Dare I look? Only if we are just about to touch the ground, else I shall shit a brick.

So we descend and I get to do this all over again in an hour. Crapsack!

I'm over the wing (Dad, you'll have been glad to know),so I totally have that going for me right? And how is the descent? Rocky, scary...cue professor woman again...nope, she aint got jack for me. What's ironic is, it might actually help to look and see us getting closer to the ground and see that no engines are on fire and there are no demons chewing on the wings or what have you. However, each time I try to steal a glance out of the window, I see nothing but sky and I'm all like, "Beeyatch!? You crazy?? Don't be looking OUT that window!". For some reason I become a sassy lady in my head when instructing myself away from psychological harm.

There's also a voice saying: " C'maaawn. Take a look ya chump! Whatsa matta? Too chicken? Bawk bawk bawk!". The voice that encourages me to freak myself out is a "good fer nuttin" type of guy, with a New York accent, from a 1940s movie. As it should be, of course.

Bloody hell! How long does it take to land a freakin plane?? Oh, TOUCH DOWN!! BOO YAA! Blind up, there's Denver. Jesus, I'm in Denver. That's bizzare.

* * *

Denver to San Jose

I totally lucked out seat-wise today. Toronto to Denver I had no one beside me and same on this one. I'm at the very back in the aisle and no one is in the middle and the rest of the plane is full. Little miracles. Thanks random luck!

Tired enough and calm enough to ignore take off and turbulence in-flight. I'm even going to take a peek as we now descend because it's California so what the crap, right? I think I should see it.

Teeny look and... holy shit are we ever up high. It's dark so all I can see are little lights but I can tell we are up really effing high. I've been in complete disbelief for months about being able to step foot onto California soil. I was about to say that I haven't been around much so it's hard to process the idea, but that's not even true really. I've been across the Ocean and back twice, seen 7 countries of the world, lived in 4 provinces and 6 cities. San Jose will be number 7. So no biggy right? Take'er as she comes.

I'm totally looking again. There are big clusters of lights which I presume are towns separated by darkness which I presume is nature or merely some sort of California void. It's easier to look at night. Twinkling lights can't hurt anyone no matter how high above them you may be. My little Christmas tree at home is brought to mind. It's under a sheet in our quiet little house waiting for us to return. A sigh of fondness goes out to Quebec right now.

I looked, I saw California's twinkling lights from really high above and my brain didin't explode. Now the lights are bigger and I see streets...now I see cars and traffic lights...Bloody hell! I'm in California! No foolin! I'm here.