It's already tomorrow in Australia. And I'm here to confirm it for you! It's sunny and everyone's wearing shorts and sleeveless shirts or flip-flops and bathing suits that show their whole butts. It's a nice contrast from the cold and rainy “winter” we've been having in LA.
One of the things I most appreciate about myself is my ability to sleep for nine hours of a fifteen hour flight. Last night (nights?) I did just that. Our 10:15pm plane was delayed on the runway for two hours, almost unbeknownst to me. I kept falling asleep and waking up to find that we were still on the ground. I didn't even take Tylenol PM this time.
I made my groggy way through TSA pre-check to find that Shake Shack is located at Terminal 3 and I was, sadly, posted up in Terminal 2. Bummer. After an uneventful wait at the gate, I boarded into my window seat, blocked in by two guys who became unlikely yet fast friends. I'm shocked I was able to start my nap so soon with the amount of chatting they did for the first half of the trip.
The one in the middle seat was a teenager with a few diamond lip piercings and a very large vape pen. He introduced himself by reaching under all the seats to find the electrical outlet and asking the aisle guy if they could switch because he'd be getting up a lot to smoke the vape in the bathroom. To my surprise, the other, older guy agreed. Later on, the older guy saw that I was leaning my head uncomfortably forward and offered me his neck pillow. I turned it down because I don't think that's a thing to be shared, but I guess the now-middle-seat guy is a guy who's here to help in any way he can.
I didn't learn the teenager's full story, only that he was born in Virginia to an Australian couple, moved to Melbourne for his childhood, and spent the last five years roaming the US. The flight attendant keeps warning him that if she smells the vape, she will need to confiscate it. He assures his seat mate that it's much better than nicotine. He started smoking when he was fourteen, which couldn't have been long ago because he looks that age now.
I sleep on, catching bits and pieces of their conversation. The older guy has an accent that I think is Spanish. He used to run a freelance accounting business and sold it. Now, he's heading back to Australia to try to repair an old relationship.
During the last third of the flight, I wake up and decide to join their chatter since they've kindly saved a sandwich for me while I completely slept through all the meals. We've become bonded in our last row not-fully-reclining seats.