Sleeping on airplanes is not easy. There is literally no position that is comfortable. But luckily, I got a solid 6 hours in, which is pretty impressive for an 8 hour flight. Especially when they wake you up at 12:45 am. “Senora, pollo o pasta?”
On the brighter side, there’s nowhere more beautiful to fly into than the Santiago Airport. And when you’re traveling through mist and mountains while the sun rises, and you’re listening to Cat Stevens’ “Morning has Broken,” you sort of just want to hug everyone.
Now I’m waiting in the Admirals club, which my father bought me a day pass for. He can’t imagine traveling without it, he says, and he gets a discount on guest passes because he’s in the “million mile club.” I feel incredibly spoiled in here, enjoying some weird fruit drink that looks like lemonade but is not, in fact, lemonade—sitting on tumblr while everyone around me is using their wifi for actual work.
I’ve been doing a bit of writing. Nothing is coming out right, but I figure this will only happen once, so I might as well get it down anyway.