Yesterday while loading my upcoming trips into my calendar I realized a scary, scary trend: all of them involve red-eye flights. Living in California is brilliant most of the time, but it stinks for globetrotting. Sure, I probably could have avoided the red-eye to Atlanta, but the red-eyes to Paris and Thailand could not be helped. In fact, when I go to Paris, I will lose almost an entire day. Oh la la!
In short, I'm panicking. Growing up on the East Coast, I got spoiled by being so close to the rest of the world. The longest flight I've ever taken was a measly six hours, and even that was no walk in the park (skies?) thanks to my hyperactive tendencies and tiny bladder.
I've started researching red-eye flight survival guides, but so far none of them contains an "aha!" tip that seems like it will make all the difference. And some of the advice is just plain impractical. It might be nice to sleep leaning against the window, but there's no way I'm asking the person next to me to move every time I need to use the restroom or stretch my legs for fifteen hours straight.

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April 24, 2008