Red Eyes and Lay Overs

Back on the road again. 

Doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself not to book the red eye and the long layovers. In the end, when I book, it’s usually been so long since I’ve been on a plane, I have forgotten that the savings doesn’t equal the pain.

Last night’s red eye came complete with three babies/toddlers in our row of 6 passengers. It was the last row of the plane, on a full flight, which meant the seats didn’t recline and the line for the bathroom was along side my seat the entire night. And as I am sure we all know, the red eye these days just feels sooo different than it once was. Recovery is just not the same as it was in my 20s . . . or even 30s for that matter. Who knew that a hangover from flying really existed.

But it didn’t stop there, with the red eye and well positioned infants – last night I realized that even on night flights, the air flight attendants don’t go to sleep; which meant a constant chatter in a lit area at the back of the plane where the air flight attendants were gathered chatting about how Delta was different than Jet Blue and what they were dressing up as for Halloween. It’s amazing I got any sleep at all, but in the end, I did, even if it was between customers’ hands on my head as they waited for the bathroom, the wailing of the small children and the incessant chatter of the staff, all of it melding into a somewhat surreal dream at 36,000 feet.

I guess in the grand scheme of things, having a 12-hour lay over in coastal South Florida isn’t really all that bad. It’s not like being stuck in an airport in Duluth or Modesto. No offense to those places obviously.

So upon landing I did what any sensible traveler with 10 hours on their hands would do and hopped in a cab and made a bee line for the sand.

So here I am – backpack and all - on a mostly empty beach in Fort Lauderdale: wind in my hair, sand on my feet, sun on my face and the ocean waving at me as only she knows how to do.

¡Próxima parada: Medellín Colombia!