What's That Smell? Oh. It's Miles.

February 3rd, 2011
Time: 12:27 pm
Location: Flight CZ0313, Seat 41C

Right now I should be hanging out in Seoul, whiling away the time until our couch surfing host finds us and leads us to a bed.

Instead I’m whiling my time away surrounded by blue, ill-padded narrow seats and shrink-wrapped airplane food.

I’m stuck on a tarmac in Qingdao, China next to crazy John Gregory and his random sporadic flailing. 

Not Korea.

This day was also accompanied by a near-death taxi cab experience, and not that of your typical variety in China.  We were supposed to take the shuttle to the airport – leave at 5:30 am from Paulette’s apartment.  Around 5:45 as we were lying in bed I asked Paulette for the time, 5:42 she replied calmly, still half-asleep. 

After that it was a mad scramble to get dressed and out the door, leaving vestiges of the feast from the night before on the kitchen counters.

We were still mostly committed to the shuttle idea, but as we click-clacked over the cobble stones a woman cab driver accosted us, shouting across the parking lot before creeping up behind us in her car.

As we climbed in I mentioned that I hoped this was the start of her shift, not the end.  My hope was in vain. At one point I remember looking up to see us headed straight into a cement barrier and a flash of orange before she jerked the wheel and righted us back onto the highway.

Apparently, our travel woes are not behind us. But at least I’m not losing my lunch in an airplane bag.  

Poor Miles.

Paulette, hanging out across the aisle

Sad us. They gave us sandwiches after about an hour of waiting.
At least we had an emergency exit row.

Almost dead Miles.


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