Can We Pretend That Airplanes in the Night Sky Are Like Shooting Stars

We arrived at Charlotte Douglas Int'l Airport shortly before 2p.m. for my USAir flight scheduled for a 4:10p.m. departure. It was pretty uneventful aside from the expectedly emotional goodbyes. We boarded on time and pushed back on time. A long taxi and line for takeoff meant we were airborne about 20 minutes later than anticipated. I'd have a window seat for this flight. The late departure meant I'd have an especially tight connection at Boston's Logan Airport.
I sat next to a pleasantly enlightened Portugese woman who was flying from her home in Georgia back to Portugal for a vacation with friends. We talked the entire duration of the flight. Travel is sort of interesting in that way. We were two perfect strangers randomly assigned to seats next to eachother--well, maybe not so randomly in today's digital age where seats can be pre-selected--yet we never exchanged names, and I might not remember her face if I saw her today. But, for that short time we were both completely removed from our everyday lives and shared something in common that allowed us to interact in a way that probably would not have happened otherwise.
I now realize that airlines build extra time into their arrival/travel time estimates. We left Charlotte nearly 20 minutes behind schedule and arrived in Boston only 10 minutes behind. With that short of a flight, I don't know that it would've been possible to make up 10 minutes in flying time.
The agent at the check-in kiosk in CLT printed off my boarding pass for the Virgin Atlantic flight that would carry me from Boston to London's Heathrow airport. As I deplaned and checked my ticket, the departure gate read "8A."
Easy enough, right? Wouldn't that usually mean "Concourse A, gate 8?" That's what I thought, at least.
I've never been to the Boston Airport outside of one trip during my freshman year, and it was with a large group, so I wasn't necessarily paying attention to the airport's layout; more or less I was just following the group.
The terminal we arrived to was absolutely deserted. We were the only people that I saw in the terminal. No gate agents at any other gates, no passengers waiting to board, not even a magazine shop open for passengers. I was able to find the sign to terminal A and was on my way, right? Wrong.
The concourses in Boston's airport are separate buildings and lettered A-E. I think we arrived in B, so A was the next building over. A 5 minute walk and I arrive at the security checkpoint with about 50 minutes before the plane departs and 20 minutes before scheduled boarding. The TSA agent checking boarding passes looked at me rather surprised that I would be taking a USAir flight out of that terminal. I soon explained to him that the boarding pass was issued at a USAir kiosk in CLT, it was actually a Virgin Atlantic flight. He smiled a bit then let me know that I was in the wrong place. Virgin Atlantic and all other international flights operate out of terminal E. Fantastic. Terminal E is about as far away from Terminal A as anything else in the airport. Check out this terminal map
I quickly thanked him and bolted outside to try to find the 11, 33, or 55, any of which he told me would get me to terminal E. Forty-three minutes before departure I board the 33 bus which makes stops at Terminals B and C before stopping at E. Great.
We finally arrived at Terminal E about 10 minutes later and I run inside and the security lanes look woefully backed up. At this point, I'm sure I'm going to miss the flight. Waiting in the security line, I called my mom to let her know that this was going to be tight. We had the conversation in the car on the way to the Charlotte airport that if anything were to go wrong, I was determined not to get upset or let it bother me... that wouldn't do anybody any good. I think I did reasonably well in sticking to that goal, though I'm sure mom could sense some uneasiness in my voice (she is a mom, afterall).
Much to my surprise, TSA was moving passengers rather quickly through security and I was through the checkpoint and pulled up to the gate (which was gate A8, by the way) just in time to hear the gate agent call me to the desk for an "urgent announcement." I had no idea what to expect, but she just wanted a copy of my baggage receipt from Charlotte and she printed me a new boarding pass. At this point I'm feeling like a superhero. That had to be record time to getting Terminal B to A then all the way to E and through security, all before boarding had even started. Somebody should check into that.
I was looking forward to the long flight to catch some sleep.
Ha... sleep... yeah, right. Not on this flight.
The Boeing 747-400 config. that would carry us from Boston to London had enough room for 355 passengers and 17 Virgin Atlantic crew members.

It took a little over an hour for everyone to board and for taxiing to begin, which put us a little behind schedule, but the flight was only to be 5 hours and 38 minutes.
Ha... 5 hours and 38 minutes... yeah, right.
Just before push back, I sent my last "I love you's" to my mom, dad, and sister and in enough time to get replies back from all of them.
Takeoff was pretty impressive. This plane was huge and it was airborn in a seemingly shorter distance than some of the smaller aircraft I've flown in.
Time for dinner.
After the captain takes off the seatbelt sign, the crew began the evening meal service. The crew, by the way, was absolutely wonderful. The friendliest flight crew and friendliest airline I've flown with. Definitely recommend Virgin Atlantic. It was just an overally very pleasant experience.
Dinner was better than expected. I had some sort of beef in a Sonoma sauce with mashed potatoes, green beans and carrots. They also served a nice roll, small side salad and banana pudding for dessert.
My seatmate on this flight wasn't nearly as interesting as the one on my first flight. In fact, I don't think we spoke the entire flight.
Just after I finished eating the captain comes over the PA system "We're being diverted to St. John's Nova Scotia as a passenger has fallen unwell. Hopefully we won't be on the ground more than an hour and a half. Crew, please prepare the cabin for landing."
Oh, awesome. I've never been to Nova Scotia before.
After the 30 minute re-route to St. John's, we were finally on the ground. I'm not sure really what happened (I was in row 63 out of 65 on the lower deck). I couldn't really see into the front of the aircraft. I know medics were let on board, we were not allowed to get up from our seats, and after 15 or 20 minutes the passenger was cleared to fly. But now we have to wait nearly and hour and a half more while they re-fuel the plane and paperwork is compiled that will allow us to take off again. Oh, and I couldn't manage to get to sleep through any of this.
Finally, about 2 hours later we're airborne again and due to arrive at Heathrow around 9:15--nearly 2 and a half hours later than planned.
The rest of the flight was cramped, long and boring despite the personal seat-back entertainment systems playing many newly released films and TV shows.
We arrived in London on a windy, chilly Sunday morning and since every gate in the concourse was occupied, we were taken off the planes by coaches and driven to an entrance to collect our bags and pass through customs. Being in row 63-65 and with nearly 350 other passengers in front of you, I was on the very last coach and got to the terminal almost an entire hour after we landed.
I made it through passport control, got my visa and claimed my bag all without incident. I wandered around the airport for a while trying to find the National Express bus station that was located in Terminal 3 that would get me from London to Brighton in just around 2 and a half hours. I find the station, queue, and learn that the next bus departs for Brighton at 12.15 p.m. Not too bad, just over an hour away from the current time. I will admit that sitting the bus station is when I started to get sort of lonely. I had no one to talk to, and this was my first few moments landside in a foreign country. Luckily the bus station was open-air so there were plenty of birds flying around and walking on the ground beneath the benches to keep me company. Something like this:

I boarded the bus, put on my iPod and let the sweet sounds of Motown greats take me to Brighton. The two and a half hour drive passed pretty quickly when compared to the long flight I had earlier. I was just tired, awake for almost 24 hours in a row at this point, ready to get to the University and go to sleep.
I had no clue what bus station in Brighton I should be let off at, so the stop that saw the most people off seemed like a good guess. I hopped in a cab with a delightful British man who was a Brighton native and ensured me that I'd love it. Turns out he has two kids who are at the University of Brighton. He gave me some inside information on the best pubs and where to stay away from. A short drive and nearly 20 pounds later we arrived at the University, I walk into the reception hall and then move into my room, ready to sleep the day away.
If I've taught you anything with this post, it's that you should know that it's not going to happen as you plan it! Needless to say, I never got to sleep. More about that later :)


We're getting ready to go out with some other international students to a club called Oceana. We won't be staying out too late, as we've got to catch and early train to London tomorrow.