I must have finally dozed off for a few hours. My laptop clock reads 9:15 AM, but the sky is so dark outside my window that I can see the Big Dipper over the airplane wing. It’s midnight in Bali. JP keeps telling me that the sooner I forget California Time the less jet-lag I’ll feel when we land in Denpasar. I guess old habits die hard.
The first hour aboard our China Airlines flight was still exciting: a new adventure has begun! All the inflight instructions and announcements are in an unfamiliar language; the airplane is gigantic with 2 levels! Oooh, they’re serving us dinner and it’s 2am! The subsequent 3 or 4 hours were the most miserable and uncomfortable hours spent in my travelling life! I could NOT find a comfortable position to sleep. And oh, how I wanted to sleep!!! Flip flops kicked off, feet struggling to stuff themselves in the same space being occupied by my carry-on backpack, knees aching since I can’t stretch them out to full extension, lower back aching incessantly in my nearly-upright position and my neck screams with tension and pain since I’ve got the “head bob” going on as I nod in and out of a restless sleep. I look over and JP is sleeping like a baby after a bottle of warm milk. Then the turbulance begins.
The first jolt of the plane sent butterflies through me; not in fear, but with the kind of amusement park thrill. I’ve flown countless times and have been through turbulance before. Then we dropped suddenly and jerked to the right as if we’d be sideswiped by a train. I sat up straight and grabbed JP’s hand. Looking around the wide and spacious cabin all the other passengars bobbed and weaved up and down like characters in a Whack-A-Mole game. As the seconds ticked on and the forces-at-be bounced and slammed us around in our tiny seats, I squeezed JP’s hand harder. Mine seemed to be the only worried face in the crowd, at first. The Asians surrounding me may have worn calm and serene faces but their white-knucked grips on the slender armrests gave them away. Serenity now, serenity now. Then a funny thing happened. My mind immediately jumped to “Are we going to die??” (of course, I’m so melodramatic) and I quickly realized that I wasn’t afraid of dying. I’ve lived a good life. Allbeit not terribly exciting or movie-esque, although plunging to my demise in the Pacific Ocean would certainly lift my chances of living on forever as an epic movie or afterschool special. But I have had a few adventures and plenty of good times in my short life. I’ve got the man I love sitting (sleeping) next to me and I’m too excited about my future to think of regrets. Ahhh, life is good. But I’d rather not die. J
JP just pointed out that if we were in LOST on Oceanic flight 815, we would be Gin and Sun since we’re the foreigners on this flight. Ha ha! Guess I’m not the only one weighing the possibilities of us going down. Paranoid minds think alike! :)
Woah, don't mean to think about sad things. Just soooo tired!!!
These little fish, called Garra Rufa, are all the rage in the spas out here in Bali. They are freshwater fish from Turkey that like to nibble on dead skin cells. They are unique in that they won't touch or harm any healthy or live skin and will only go after the rough and calloused skin. Many use this treatment for psoriasis or eczema. 
st Peanut Butter in USA!! Um...right...
