Purgatory, thy name is MD-11.

This is going to be a long blog entry, but you may still find it entertaining, if only because you can laugh at my misery. Self-induced schadenfreude, I guess.

For those who didn't grow up as I did in the House That Boeing Built, an MD-11 is a McDonnell-Douglas jet of sardine-can proportions. If you are interested in more about it, which I am not, feel free to read here. The only thing I care about it is that it got me from Okinawa to Seattle. It was an interesting - and long - day to say the least. When I finally collapsed into bed at my parents' house, I had gone approximately 50 hours without sleep (aside from the occasional sporadic catnap). Yeah. Long day.

I should preface this by saying that our seats were only $30. For a trans-Pacific flight, that kicks ass. Seriously. That said, sometimes you get what you pay for. I am grateful for the cheap flight and safe landing in Seattle, but let me tell you, the experience was...interesting.

The military managed to turn the task of getting 300 people from Okinawa to Seattle - by way of Iwa Kuni and Yokota - into an exercise in inefficiency that would make the IRS and DMV weep with envy. It was a clusterfuck of such biblical proportions, I nearly had to cross myself. Probably would have, but I was just too damned tired. The day began thusly: At 3:00 am, a few hundred people (many of whom were young, sleep-deprived children) gathered in the parking lot in front of the terminal, awaiting the opening of the doors and the cattle drive to the check-in desk. Once the doors were opened and the cattle driven, we all got on the list and sat for the long, stressful wait to determine who would be among The Elite (those with seats) and the rejected (those who would wait to fly another day).

When we arrived, there were 7 seats available and about 100 people vying for them. Not good odds. Around 4:45 am, they announced that 36 seats were available. Using a method shrouded in mystery, the guys behind the counter determined - over the course of 5 hours - who would fly and who would not. I'm fairly certain this method involves a complicated equation that includes your social security number, the axis of the sun, the temperature in southern Belize, and the most recent major league baseball score.

36 seats available, and they started calling names. Eddie and I snagged seats 33 and 34. Nerve-wracking? NO, NEVER. We were then herded through baggage check, wherein we learned that Habu Sake is considered a hazardous item (Why? Are they afraid the snake in the jar will bite a baggage handler?). Good thing we hadn't brought any on this trip. Apparently I need to rethink my Christmas gifts for this year. You can now all expect mason jars containing dyed water and rubber snakes. You're welcome.

Anyway, through security we went, and were shoehorned into a small room containing a large number of people. By this point, sleep deprivation was catching up to everyone. By "everyone", I mean "the droves of small children". In the waning hours of our storage in this room, the children managed an epic synchronized meltdown. The planning to coordinate such an assault on the senses must have required precision that would make our military proud.

As you can imagine, during some of these dark moments, even that $30 price tag on the ticket was but cold comfort.

From there, we were loaded onto buses and driven approximately 100 yards to our waiting plane. Due to security concerns with the flight line, we couldn't be trusted to walk across that 100 yards of asphalt. National security, people. National security.

And, at last, we were on the plane, and the real journey began. What follows now is a list of thoughts and comments that occurred to me throughout this journey. In keeping with my day and my flights, the list is long.

1. Flight attendant that bears a startling resemblance to Gerard Butler: WIN.
2. Flight attendant rousing me out of a hard-won sound sleep to see if I want a drink: FAIL.
3. A four year-old screaming "I like big butts and I cannot lie" is actually funny enough to excuse the "screaming" bit.
4. Did I leave the iron on?
5. Solution to screaming kids: The soothing screams of Jared Leto accompanied by Shannon Leto's serene drumming. Noise-cancelling earbuds + 30 Seconds to Mars = Bliss.
6. The only thing worse than a screaming infant is a somewhat older child screaming at said infant to stop screaming.
7. To the dude calling out names in the terminal during role-call (i.e., proclaiming who is among The Elite): Enunciate. Seriously.
8. Memo to all of my friends and family working at that large Seattle-based company that builds aircraft: More. Elbow. Room. I don't care what your client wants. I am their customer, which means I am, by proxy, your customer. The customer is always right, therefore my happiness trumps their petty money-saving tomfoolery. I expect my elbows to be cradled in the lap of luxury, even when shoehorned into coach. And by "lap of luxury" I do not mean "my neighbor's ribcage".
9. When better seats (more comfortable, less crowded, better vantage point to check out flight attendants) are up for grabs, I strongly belive that the Thunderdome is a suitable method for determining dibs. The less violent paper-rock-scissors method may also be employed at passenger discretion, but unresolved disputes and paper-paper stalemates will be settled in the aforementioned Thunderdome.
   
10. To the pilot: "...nonstop service to Yokota and might continue on to Seattle..." WTF DOES "MIGHT" MEAN, YOU BASTARD?!
11. On the subject of safety videos: If you are going to occupy precious seconds of my flitting attention span, I expect some effort to be put into the video production aspects. Zooming in on safety placards - identical to the ones I can read myself - while narrating in a badly-dubbed monotone is unsatisfactory. Hot, scantily clad flight attendants demonstrating the proper methods for using the escape slides will suffice.
12. Why yes, I will pay $5 for the alcoholic beverage of my choice.
13. The kid in front of me could rival Kenny G for his ability to hold a single note for an inordinate length of time. Unfortunately, his tone and pitch are seriously lacking and his "note" is more of a blood-curdling scream. Duration is impressive. All else is made of fail.
14. "The flight from Iwa Kuni to Yokota will be a brief 55 minutes." Not with all these screaming children, it won't...
15. Oh look, another $5. What ever will I do with it...
16. I want to ride in the luggage compartment with the pets.
    
17. Right, now I remember why I decided not to have kids.
18. Okay, forget $5. Here's $20. Just keep the glass full.
19. The sign says "no open-toed or open-heeled shoes on military flights". In fact, multiple signs say this. So don't act surprised when you're informed that your flip-flops are unsat. Yeah, that's easy for me to say because I wore tennis shoes. Sorry, bro, we can't all be superstars.
20. An eight year-old chanting "Let me go pee" over and over is an odd combination of annoying and amusing. Surprisingly relieved and disappointed when the seatbelt light goes off and he ends his chant to run for the lavatory.
21. Eddie, in the context of air travel, please find a different euphemism for falling asleep than "crash and burn".
    
22. What the fuck do you mean the vodka's gone?
23. To the guy across from me who fell - and stayed - asleep through turbulence, screaming kids, two takeoffs, two rough landings, and a showing of Madagascar: Fuck you.
24. Go ahead, kid. Stick your foot out in the aisle again when I walk by...
25. If you want me to put my iPod away, do something about the noise that makes my iPod necessary.
26. Wow, he really does look like Gerard Butler.
    
27. That which doesn't kill me makes me stronger.
28. I don't care if this is a military flight on a military aircraft. This is a passenger flight, not a fighter jet combat mission. Pilot, please fly accordingly. Gentle is the word, my friend.
29. If a kid is allowed to scream "We're going down!" without consequence, then I am allowed to yell "It's on the wing!"
30. Salvation, iPod is thy name.
31. I think I just got crop-dusted by a flight attendant.
32. This ticket was practically free, so it's all worth it. This ticket was practically free, so it's all worth it. This ticket was...
33. If you sneeze really, really hard right when the plane banks to one side, it creates an interesting sensation of vertigo.
34. Why do flight attendants always wear thick scarves? I swear I keep wondering if I'm surrounded by auto-erotic asphyxiation addicts.
35. Okay, no more vodka. Rum? Gin? Toilet bowl cleanser?
    
36. Holy crap, these earbuds really are noise-cancelling. The elation I've just experienced is akin to a religious awakening.
37. Hmm. Landing gear + grinding. Bad sign?
38. This is one for The Witt List: The sandwiches served on planes are not made in sweat shops by little children who misbehave on flights, and it is wrong to tell misbehaving children that they are.
39. Why do they have to open all the window shades prior to landing? Is it so the pilot can see in his blind spot?
40. Flight #1 (Okinawa to Iwa Kuni): Reminded Eddie to schedule his vasectomy.
41. Flight #2 (Iwa Kuni to Yokota): Considered performing said procedure myself.
42. Flight #3 (Yokota to Seattle): Eddie considers performing said procedure himself.
43. I've been up for almost 30 solid hours, minus a brief catnap. I should not be this wide awake.
44. I am not certain, but I think "severe turbulence" is noted somewhere in the Geneva Convention.
45. Only the military could turn something as simple as getting off a plane into something so complicated it requires a briefing.

But...it was only $30 and got me here in time for my class reunion, so all's well that ends well. And now we are safely in the great city of Seattle, ready for a few weeks of causing mayhem on our home turf.

And now that I've reached the end of my second solid day of consciousness, I am going to sleep, hoping my dreams are not plagued by screaming children and iPod battery failures...