Manila Trip - Part 1

Tuesday, the day that I left for my trip to visit Chris in Manila, started early and ended late... Thursday morning late.

I awoke at my usual time... about 7 AM. I showered and dressed, finished packing, took care of a few last minute things, and hit the road shortly after 10 AM to drive to the Charlotte airport. Along the way, I stopped in Salisbury and met with Chris' Dad and sister to pick up some things that they wanted to send to him. Traffic was good and parking, riding the shuttle, checking in, and going through security all went quite smoothly and I arrived at my gate with time to spare before my 3.30 PM boarding.

This left me with plenty of time to read, people-watch, and to think about what lay ahead of me and behind me. Granny had passed away on Saturday evening and I'd missed her funeral while I was driving to the airport. I made my travel plans several weeks ago when Granny was still in the nursing home and her short-term prognosis was decent. Even after she entered the hospital, she appeared to have stabilized in the days before my trip; it seemed likely that she'd pass away while I was in Manila and quite possible that she'd hang on until I returned. I think that I'm OK with missing the funeral and I think that my family is, too. I made a point to be present for the family viewing and visitation on Monday because I knew that I'd be absent on Tuesday. Pops and all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins seemed very excited for me. My cousins in Charlotte, Billy and Jenny, had both agreed to drive me to the airport, but now couldn't. I decided to just put my car in long-term parking, which I think is for the best, since my return flight is set to arrive at 6.30 AM and who would've wanted to meet me at the airport at that hour!?

I flew from Charlotte to San Francisco on US Airways, which took 5.5 hours and was a pleasant enough experience. An airline friend made sure that I had a seat on the exit row for plenty of leg room and clued me in to the in-flight movie and café choices. The flight attendant in my section grew up in Kernersville and lives in Pfafftown, both suburbs of Winston-Salem, so we had fun chatting about home. Though I'd wanted to see the movie, The Lake House, I chose not to purchase headphones and taught myself to work sudoku puzzles instead. En route, the pilot pointed out Memphis and the Mississippi River and made another announcement about our impending landing while we were over southern Utah.

Upon landing in San Francisco, I quickly found my way to the international terminal. While walking, I noticed the outdoor scenery through the airport's large windows. I was impressed with the area's beauty -- hills stretched out in every direction and were lovely, despite the fact that they're covered with homes -- and took a moment to appreciate the bustle of Bay Area California -- a freeway runs close enough to the airport so that I could nearly identify license plates and more than one rail transit system was evident. As I checked-in for my flight on Philippine Airlines (PAL), I noticed that nearly everyone on the plane was Filipino, all but about a half-dozen of us. As I looked about, I noticed that about half of the Filipinos were Filipino-Americans, carrying blue US passports. (Filipino passports are green or red.) Nearly everyone had 18-inch cube boxes packed (and I do mean PACKED) with goods. Addresses written on the side of the boxes were almost invariably in Metro Manila -- Quezon City, Makati, Pasay, and Mandaluyong, among others.

I was hungry and had some time to kill after checking-in, so I found some food and had some dinner -- pesto bowtie pasta and cheesecake. I began thinking of whom I could call to pass the time, but realized that everyone at home was likely in bed, so I thought of whom I knew on the west coast. I could only find one such number in my phone, so I called my friend, Kelly, and caught up with her. When I hung up with her, I went to the restroom and had almost finished when Chris called to check on me, but he was kind enough to hang on while I raised and buttoned my pants.

I made my way to the gate, where the staff had us form one line so that they could tag our bags. The unorganized crowd slimmed into a rough line, then the staff announced that we should form two lines to have our bags tagged. Collective groan. We approached in turn and placed our bags on the scale and the staff attached a PAL tag. Signs declared a strict limit of one carry-on bag weighing no more than 7 kilograms or 15 pounds and one small personal item, claiming that this is a regulation of the FAA, though I doubt that last assertion. Nevertheless, I had little problem boarding with my two bags that weighed a total of 24 pounds. I know how much they weighed because the ticketing agent weighed them for me.

The flight was great for the most part. They fed us three meals, served us several drinks, and showed four movies (two in English and two in Tagalog) and several TV shows. In contrast to US Airways, which charged for food and headsets, everything on the PAL flight was included, even cocktails! I suppose that when you're gonna be on a plane for that amount of time (16.5 hours), they want to keep you quite happy. I was expecting a refueling stop in Guam, but the plane stopped in Honolulu instead. When Chris flew over on Northwest, they stopped in Japan and made everyone deplane with their carry-on bags; in contrast, we were not allowed off of the plane and couldn't make any calls.

I was seated in an aisle seat, next to a friendly Filipino chap named Gerry. We talked a bit, but not a great deal. It was a nice flight for the most part. I slept fitfully and for only about 4 hours. About an hour before we landed we hit a patch of bad weather that shook the plane hard. At one point, we dropped sharply and would've come out of our seats if not for our safety belts -- quite like a roller coaster. That's when Gerry started vomiting. I saw him fidgeting with his air sickness bag, then throw it to the ground in disgust. Then, he yanked the case off of his pillow and threw up into it. He had spoken at length with the other two Filipino guys in our row and one of them began to rub Gerry's back. I unwrapped my blanket and handed the plastic wrapper to Gerry; he dropped his pillow case into it and promptly threw up again. I picked up the flight safety card and fanned him. He was sweating profusely and leaned forward against the seat in front of him to try to regain his composure. By this time, the other two guys in our row had done likewise, also overcome with nausea. They certainly weren't alone, as I heard hurling all around me. When the turbulence calmed, Gerry made his way to the lavatory. The crew served breakfast and the others in my row ate, which made me think that Gerry's vomiting caused their nausea. The smell of food permeated the aircraft and I hoped that Gerry wouldn't return anytime soon, lest the odor cause him to vomit again. But, he did. And, he did. I'm just glad that he didn't throw up outside the bag or on me and that I didn't get nauseated. I concentrated on my customs and immigration form to take my mind off of it.

We landed and everyone applauded, certainly at least as much for the simple fact that the flight was over as for the pilot's skill in flying and landing the plane. I walked off of the plane and up the jet-way and followed the crowd to immigration. A clerk took a copy of my immigration and customs form, entered the info from my passport into the computer (a Dell), then stamped my passport. I was in! Yay! Faces were pressed against the terminal's outside windows watching for loved ones. I found the baggage carousel and then turned to look through the window (really, one whole wall of the terminal) for Chris. I saw him standing at the covered driveway and waved; he saw me and waved back, so I blew him a kiss.

I waited at the baggage carousel for quite awhile before it even began moving. An announcement said that technical problems were causing a delay in off-loading our bags -- sounds like someone lost the key! I found that my mobile phone was working, so I called Chris to say hello and tell him what I'd heard. I waited a bit longer. The conveyor finally started, but there was no sign of my bag for quite a while. I called Mamaw to tell her that I'd arrived safely. I waited a bit more. I counted three trips that one set of bags made past me. While I was preparing for my trip, I was very concerned that my bag would be lost. My airline friend told me that inter-airline baggage transfers are prime opportiunities for lost bags. I packed strategically and put in the checked bags only things that I'd be comfortable losing. I carried-on things that I absolutely didn't want to lose -- medicines, camera, and nicer clothes. I was carrying medicines for both myself and Chris, as well as several food products and some gifts from Chris' family. After about 45 minutes, I saw my big, brown duffel break through the rubber curtain and snake its way toward me. I picked it up and prepared to face Customs. I was a bit concerned about how this might go, considering that I was carrying prescription drugs and many foodstuffs, but the clerk just took my form, glanced at my bags, and waved me through the outside door ten feet away. That was it! I was here! Yay!

Chris greeted me with a big hug. After 10 weeks apart and the longest flight of my life, he was even more handsome that I'd remembered and a very welcome sight in a country that I'd never visited, twelve thousand miles from home. I didn't think about what the next two weeks would bring, but just concentrated on the moment -- of finally being in the ground and with my Sweetie. :J