I had the "why I am I going somewhere- there's plenty to do here" crap rattling in my head for a solid two days prior to leaving. It's an indication that this trip was going to be great. It happens every time; I should be used to it by now.
The highlight of our flight to Hong Kong wasn't the movie. Michael Clayton couldn't compete with the tireless struggle between our flight attendant and the curtain. He got tangled, food cart and all. "Let me out!" he exclaimed. He eventually freed himself, claiming the victory. For a while.
Once in Hong Kong we had to leave the plane so they could clean it. We would board again an hour later. Helpful flight crew met us to hand us pieces of plastic with "Thai" written on them. Not satisfied, they slapped stickers on us that said the same. Properly labeled, we were ready to go.
The in-flight entertainment from Hong Kong to Bangkok was a little Indian girl. To any what-does-it-matter-where-she-was-from/we-are-the-world types who may exist, it matters because we're going to India. So there.
The poor child screamed her lungs out for takeoff and landing, but the rest of the time she smiled, waved at us and applauded a seatbelt. Fun stuff.
During the course of our four hour layover in Bangkok we treated ourselves to some BK. Somehow we ordered the KING size. Apparently, we said "Yes," to KING when the girl asked medium or KING. We interpreted it as "Medium OK?" I think we've been in Korea too long.
Sorry we wasted you, food. Please forgive us.
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