I've always been of the opinion that I am overcome with illness every time I board a plane, due to the food I consume prior to departure. There have been some doozies, to be honest, and due to these culinary delights, I've always naturally assumed the fault lied with them. Blue cheese & sashimi pizza, crab cakes, bean burritos... the list goes on... and on... and on.
It's a valid hypothesis... odd menu choices... but I think I actaully might suffer from an incompaticbility disorder called 'Aviation Nausea'... mixed with a smidge of claustrophobia.
There can be no other explaination.
Except maybe the crippling effects of the Malaria pill I recently took...
$70 of delicious and expensive beverage and artisan flatbread... projectiled right down the aircraft lavatory. It's almost a complete opposite of the Mile High Club. The club no one wants to join, but my extensive reading on the subject shows that there might be quite a few unenthusuastic members.
So... on top of being straddled in an aircraft riddled with infants, rude hosts, cramped quarters and a broken seat in front of me, I also ended up with a undesirable cleaning job after my atrocious explosion. Yes, I managed to hit every inch of the small lavatory... as well as my pants and shoes. My foul odor was enough to ensure all passengers were glad they chose that particular flight.
Word to the wise: Gravol.
I thought I'd brought Gravol, but no. I'd accidentally packed Reactin instead.
I will never board another flight without a healthy dose of effective pharmaceuticals.
My oath.
I did previoiusly mention "infant-riddled" and nothing could be further from the truth. My first leg of the journey took me from YVR to Istanbul, and was estimated to be a whopping 11 hours & 45 minutes.
Seats were limited, so I had selected an aisle seat, as close to the bathroom as possible. When I arrived in my designated location, the two other seats were occupied by a mother with, not one, but TWO babies...
"Are you fucking kidding me?" were her exact words to ME, as I attempted to sit down, exasperated at the thought of the three of them sharing two seats beside me.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" were exactly my thoughts, as I attempted to imagine the entire flight, seated next to this nighmare.
I did speak up to one of the airline hosts, who was less than amiable or empathetic... but finally agreed to move me to another aisle seat.
So... that was my flight.
For fear of appearing too negative, I won't mention the stale hummus, the trembling luggage compartment or the guy in front of me who's seat was so broken that it lay approximately 1 foot away from my face for the entire second flight.
Istabul Airport was quite the experience.
"Magical Journeys begin Here."
Although i can't say I've visited "Turkey," so to speak, I can definitely lay claim to having visited their airport. Voted the 2022 BEST International Airport, my Istanbul layover did not disappoint. This massive, new airport was a cross between Times Square, Picadilly Cirus, Pacific Centre and... an aiport. A glittery & gold airport, of course.
My unsettled stomach was not of the mind to take part in the obligatory Turkish Delight, so that will have to be something I hold off until another visit...