March 2, 2008

Greetings from the Land of Kimchi

I spent a chunk of the flight to Korea sending telepathic messages to the lone male flight attendant to give me more bread.

More bread. Sunflower roll. Garlic slice. Pan de sal. Whatever. Just more bread.

It didn't work.

I gave up, left three-fourths of my pan-fried chicken untouched and attacked my scoop of ube ice cream and scoop of mango ice cream instead.

I continued reading my guide books while I ate. Then I grabbed a copy of Vogue from the magazine rack and it put me to sleep.

And sleep was deep. So deep that when I woke up, I feared that I had snored the whole time. I checked to see if any of the other passengers were shooting angry glances at me.

Then I slept again. And sleep was even deeper. So deep that again, when I woke up, I checked if any of the passengers were pissed off. Or laughing.

They weren't. But even if they were, I wouldn't have cared. When you have the magic hoodie, nothing will faze you.

I am now at Korean Airlines' first class lounge - they bumped us up because the business class lounge was full. I'm not complaining, their snack spread is good - chips with dip, quiche, potato-wrapped prawns, sushi.

In less than an hour, I will board another plane. And after fourteen hours of probable snoring, I will be in New York where I will wait for the intimidating city to swallow me whole.