Monday, June 2, 2008

Thoughts on Hong Kong

I have returned!! Much to your delight, I am sure, I have been permitted to blog because it lets me write every day, which my literature-craving brain needs. Here, I will now post the journal I've kept until this very moment of flying to Hong Kong. I have to exclude some more personal parts, though. Enjoy! I'll update tomorrow.

In The Airport – My Time=1:05 PM, Sunday, June 01, 2008

I’m sitting in the food court because our gate is full, and there aren’t any seats for us. Dad is waiting in line with Hanna and Nate at A&W. I saw a sign for A&W when we were on the moving sidewalk, which advertised it as “All-American.” That, I think, is kind of disenchanting, considering the board depicted a greasy bacon cheeseburger and almost moldy-looking root beer float. But they’re in line anyway because Hanna and Nate both want burgers. I think I’ll get a muffin and maybe a Snapple. I’ll get diet Snapple if they have it, but definitely not peach. I got that once at the upper school drink machine and it was disgusting, plus it left a weird, cold aftertaste. Instead, I’ll get lemon flavor...or that one that sounds like it.

1:14 – I’m BACK, and beware, I wield a corn muffin and bottled water. Hanna and Nate returned with a “cheeseburger,” fries, onion rings, and two root beers on a blue cafeteria tray. Truly, the whole thing has just been charming so far. OK, Hanna just finished eating her half of the burger she was sharing with Nate, and he’s totally thrilled to be eating it, as he keeps making satisfied sounds. Why do men grunt? I hate that. Anyway, Dad just came back—with a lemon diet Snapple! Unfortunately, he appears to want to drink it. I have faith in my powers of persuasion, though.
Ew, what is Dad eating?! It looks like some sort of toasted and breaded innards on lettuce. It’s fine, though; I respect that he tried hard in this option-lacking plastic bore of a food court. Well, there’s only about 10 minutes of charge left on this bucket of bolts. Later.

In The Air – 12:45 to go

That is, according to the little TV on the back of the seat in front of me. Actually, even that’s a lie—I looked at the TV that the nice middle-aged Chinese guy next to me is watching because I’m too lazy to pause Juno for a second to look at my own. I was only watching Juno to pass the time; it became boring after about ten minutes. However, I had to do something, and the “dream big” exchange about the Weimerauners (don’t know how to spell that) is only the best thing since sliced bread.
Oh my gosh, I almost forgot to say, even though Dad’s travel agent said she had gotten me, Hanna, and Nate three seats together, we’re actually all sitting in different rows, all in middle seats. I’m in Row 33, Hanna’s seat is in 26, and Nate’s is in 28. Lucky them, though: Nate got whoever was sitting next to Hanna to switch, so they’re sitting together. I’m between the Chinese dude and this young, slightly good-looking, irritable- and uppity-seeming guy who’s with his three friends, two of whom happen to be sitting right behind us.
The young guy—who will from now on be referred to as Jon, no matter what his name is—is watching Casablanca, which totally increases my faith in this whole on demand movie system they got for the TVs. It’s really great. I think there’s probably a genuinely decent selection, considering they’ve got Casablanca, Juno, that movie Becoming Jane with Anne Hathaway that I have an inexplicable desire to see, and Forrest Gump (Hanna’s watching it; it’s become her latest obsession, and she’s pushing me to watch it).
Jon got up to go somewhere a little while ago. I’m wondering what happened to him. The lavatory, whose name reminds me painfully of the Survival latrines, is only two yards ahead of my row.
I’m back; Jon just returned from the bathroom, a cocky grin on his face—“It’s a long ride, so I can’t guarantee I won’t be doing it again.” Exactly who uses the word ‘guarantee’ if they’re a normal person? Actually, never mind, that wasn’t fair. In the mini-limo that came to pick us up, I started talking to Hanna about how twisted and corrupt I believe the media to be, in response to her inquiry as to why I don’t freak out about flying. She scolded me for “doing nerd-talk.” I didn’t tell her that I actually get petrified about losing luggage on the suitcase carousel.
I’m sad that I chewed up the mint I stole from Nate. (Emily says that the way I grind stuff up in my teeth—ice, Tic Tacs, etcetera—says a lot about me. I say it’s part of my I do about all my flaws.) It was one of those fancy speckled ones from Icebreakers that came in the green tin, boasting about all the energy it supposedly possesses. I don’t understand why Icebreakers got a makeover. It seems like they’re trying really hard to be cute and Zen, which I totally respect, but personally, I think they should stick to their guns. No gum, mint, or any other breath-freshening helper should be doomed to be the misfit in the drugstore candy rack.
I had a dream on Friday night, the weirdest dream I’ve ever had about school, save for the one where a boy I know was dancing atop our dining-room table and my bed simultaneously in a tank top and cargo shorts. In this dream, the whole grade was in this huge, really nice, high-ceilinged cafeteria. Everything was highly glossy and sophisticated, the walls were an unimposing yet fresh and cool light green, and the tabletops were made of circular glass panels that seemed to be floating mid-air.
AND NOW FOR A BRIEF INTERMISSION: The Chinese guy on my left is watching a freaky techno movie with digital numbers and people who look like Chad Michael Murray.
We now return to our feature presentation.
I tell you, my subconscious goes wild when I sleep. Freud could find a hundred psychoanalytical mysteries in my messed-up mind. (I can't continue with the rest of this dream because it gets too offensive to other kids in my school.)
I feel like listening to my iPod but am starting to feel slightly stupid for two reasons. First, that would be a waste of entertainment reserves. Second, the existence of a clock right there in the corner of my screen just registered in my tiny brain, which I coulda-shoulda-woulda consulted to record the time when I started to write this. Well, I’ll calculate it when I feel like summoning brainpower. Besides, now it’s 7:55 my time, so there you go.
Ooh, turbulence! The captain has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign! This is exciting. Yummy, darkness...maybe I’ll go to sleep. Have to take our my lenses. Let the records show that I should be able to fall asleep because I’ve been dozing from 8 to 6 lately, for reasons unknown.
Bye-bye, my little electronic one. Sleep tight.
It is currently 3:28 AM my time, and I am awake, hopelessly and entirely. There’s no way I’m getting back to sleep. The TV says that we have eleven hours to go still. God, it feels like it’s at least six. Why did Jon have to have his window open? All that Arctic ice is so bright it glows. Oh well, I won’t write any more because this is probably gibberish, considering the time. I’ll just be annoyed with my iPod’s incapability to play “I’ve Just Seen A Face,” eat my sandwich (maybe), and watch a movie.
UGH I’m so bored...and tired...but we’ll never ever get there and I’ll never ever fall asleep! Wait, just realized: I must’ve somehow dramatically misread the time, because I just looked at it again and it says FOUR HOURS! WOOHOO! OK, I’m watching The Holiday. Cameron Diaz looks sad.

1 comment:

Thin said...

Wow! you're so lucky! What did you do in Hong Kong.. If you have gone to my blog.. (thesushibar one) you will know that is on my list off "go to places"

anyway, great that you're back on blogger and I hopefuly will be seeing you again. Katie.