So Andrea’s already covered the first leg of our trip, so I’ll skim over a bit by saying you suck, Air Canada, and your lack of food and uncomfortable seats and footrest deficiency. Pah to you. And pah to you, unnecessarily confused cashier at the salami sandwich deli in San Fran.
Now that’s over with, I can say that the last few days in Canada passed in a crazy hurricane of vortex time suck. Didn’t get to see heaps of people I meant to, barely managed to tie loose ends and left a lot frayed. But you know what? Aside from the people part, as soon as you leave the country, those small things and loose ends don’t seem to matter all that much. The joy of leaving things behind is being able to put them behind you.
Anyway moving on from Canada, we took off, exhausted and leaving tearful families behind, and made it successfully to San Fran. Come 2pm we waited excitedly at the gate to board Singapore Airlines’ jumbo jet. (I’d never been in a jumbo jet before and just looking at the mass and scale of it from the window, I could tell it was enough to dwarf all of Montreal’s plane’s put together). Andrea’d said her dad’d mentioned Singapore Airlines was really nice, but at the time, I couldn’t even imagine what that might entail.
And oh what a lovely surprise it turned out to be.
We step aboard and – WTF HOSTESSES, Y U SO HOT.
Ahem. Moving on from that. They gracefully gesture us towards our seats with gentle loving care and we saunter towards our seats to classical music. We pass first class, which looks like a room with tiny personal apartments; second class is like the fancy big seats in the middle of a movie theater; we reach third class and it looks better than Air Canada’s first class.
As we move to take our seats, a grandmother sitting in front of us with a toddler hands us each a ziplock bag of candy.
“You sit behind?” she said.
“Take this, as sorry – sorry, sorry!” she smiled and waved away our confused thanks.
When we looked at the bags, we saw she’d typed a message:
Maybe it was the sweets, but the kid crying wasn’t near so annoying as the hysterical four year old aboard our first leg of the trip. In fact, for a 12 hour flight, little Jaxon cried for maybe 40 minutes consecutively. I props him.
We snugged into our seats – with footrest! – and began to examine the TV screens in front of us. Each one had a remote that popped out, and when we flipped them over we saw it actually transformed into a full game controller. We made a note to investigate further when the system was in full swing after takeoff.
Before we had a chance, however, the hostesses leapt into action mere minutes into the ascent and started handing out hot towels. Not long after that, they came around with menus – to our chagrin, as Andrea mentioned we ticked off the Kosher option – with a full drinks list including Guinness, cocktails, and whisky alongside the classics of orange juice and ginger ale. Surely these weren’t free of charge in economy class?
But never doubt the hospitality of Singapore Airlines.
When the trolley slid up to our seats, we asked if the alcoholic beverages were, in fact, included. They looked confused that we could even dream they weren’t.
Giddy with excitement, we ordered two Singapore Slings and toasted our adventure as our plane steadied its path to our new homes. (Andrea has pics that she’ll upload soon as her camera’s charged).
Now, I know Andrea’s covering the food review of the Kosher meals, but it became such a vivid point of our flight that I can’t skip it. Shen they came to show us our sealed KoshAir (nojokes that was the name) meals, it was clear this was going to be an issue: each meal was the size of two, and we’d already stuffed ourselves in San Fran on jumbo salami rolls. Now, barely an hour into the flight, we had to contend with a TV dinner sized shoulder steak with potatos, a cookie as big as my hand, a double-sized challah roll, a pack of cold cuts, and what looked like some kind of salsa. And from the earnestness with which they served it to us, giving the impression that they’d gone through a lot of effort to accommodate our regimented diets (hah, bacon poutine for life), it was obvious we couldn’t get away with picking at our plates/refusing the second meal altogether. We were stuck with it.
Buuuuuuut at least they came around and served us wine right away with it.
So after painfully full stomachs, we looked to get distracted by our TVs. What did we find? Hundreds of movies, dozens of TV shows, a slew of games including Texas Holdem Poker, Bejewelled, and Timon and Pumba Burper –
– and last but not least, a learning section that included an innumerable amount of guidebooks for around the world, and a language section that taught any one of 22 languages from French to Korean to Hindi to Icelandic to Tagalog.
Killed some time there, and at some point fell asleep. There was a bit of light turbulence that woke me up every once in a while, but mostly just rocked me to sleep.
After that, there was more food, including chicken mushroom buns, brownies, the second half of our first meal which we’d requested we get later, and king size ice cream sandwiches (!!). We passed the time slowly, but surprisingly I was never bored. I learned Icelandic and Korean, almost won Texas Holdem but got cocky, and played Bejewelled long enough to philosophize that the reason it’s so addictive is likely in its really engrossing soundscape and satisfying sound effects. More hot towels were handed out, Jaxon got testy, and my bum became increasingly numb. We were forced to eat our second meal eventually, but even so I must say it was a 12 hour flight I not only enjoyed but was almost reluctant to get off from. (Except in that I felt horrendously greasy and in need of a flat surface to collapse on post haste).
I’ll leave off there for the moment – there is, of course, more to come – but let’s do this in sections shall we? God knows if you’ve made it this far on the post you have a larger will and attention span than I do on the internet.
Keep yo’self posted!