We're Here!!

We're finally here in Cape Town, South Africa. It's about 11pm Sunday night, and we arrived about one hour ago. We left for LAX at 5am Saturdaymorning, so we have had a long weekend,
and not in the "fun, looking forward to it" sense.

Flights were pretty nice. Got to WDC with no problems, except for being in the last row-hey, close to the bathroom! We arrived and went to eat. We were sitting outside Fuddruckers eating hamburgers when I noticed a long line in front of our gate for Johannesburg. We ran up and yes, they were boarding already. We scored bulk head which was terrific with my knee. I hadn't had time to put on my compression stocking (only wore a brace to DC) so I needed the extra room to get this thing on and up my thigh. (Yes, it looked like I was applying for the "mile high club") Flight was not crowded so Fred and I got extra seats to ourselves for the overnight flight. We watched a couple of movies and went to sleep.

My first thought when we landed in Joburg 16 hours later was "I'm in Africa" and then immediately "How crazy is that!"

We had to walk outside to get to the domestic gates which was a nice treat since we hadn't been outside in a long time. Security in Johannesburg is ridiculous. Only the Americans in line are getting undressed. Everyone else still has their shoes on, their belts on, even their bulky coats on. Their laptops are still in their cases and our liquids are dangerously packed away. Craziness!
If the alarm rings when you walk through the security gate, they can't move you through fast enough. It's, "Here, take your weapon and go. GO!"

Then, of course, our flight to Cape Town was delayed, then delayed some more. Then the whole airport stood in line for no apparent reason since we still didn't board. They use the term "operational problems" which I am totally using from now on for everything!

People in line heard we were from LA and couldn't believe we were still in transit. "Didn't we overnight anywhere?" "Yes, Seat 14B-view was superb but room service was spotty."

Now I still have on my compression hose and I'm going on 20 hours here. I had to roll it a little at my ankle cause it was too tight but it's still up to my thigh. I look like a cross between a grandma with her hose bagged around her ankles and the rest of me is wearing lederhosen.
In short, I look wildy attractive. I mean, I am rocking this look.

I have stopped asking Fred if I still look cute to asking if I still look mildly recognizable.
I'm not recognizable even to myself. I am totally dressed like the older people I used to make fun of-the ones who wear comfortable shoes, sweat pants, and hang their boarding passes from their necks. I'm in glasses and my white T-shirt (what a brilliant choice!) has several food stains on it. (They feed you on overnight flights! Totally worth it!)

We finally make it to the front of the line in Joburg. Fred and I are not sitting together but he will be one row in front of me in the back of the plane. Except that when we reach the front of the line, they have switched Fred's seat assignment. He's about 15 rows in front of me. They don't care if we are travelling together and that's the way it goes.

So we get on the plane to find that Fred is in first class-yes, you read that correctly, first class.
He gallantly walks me all the way to the back of the plane, throws my carryon into the overhead compartment, says, "First class!" and without another look behind him, waltzes back up to the front of the plane, with the bigger seats, filet mignon, and much much more.

I can only stare after him, scrunched into my small seat with my bad knee stuffed into my now days old compression sock, between my two seat companions. Oh, did I not mention that I had THE MIDDLE SEAT?

I can only turn to my seat companion and say, "He's a dead man."
So here we are...halfway across the world in the southern hemishere wth no north star-as far away from home as we've ever been and Fred is still a boy in trouble.

Tomorrow...Sleeping in a bed! Breakfast! Cape Town! Sleeping some more!

Stay tuned.

Jeri