I spent most of 2009 either in a foreign country or in the air. I find that there is nothing more fulfilling than packing a suitcase and flying to any destination there is. I told someone on my most recent airplane voyage that the reason I love flying so much is because generally, there is always something exciting and new when I land. I have been to France twice, Holland, England, Japan, Italy, China, San Francisco, and New York this year. I have racked up my fair share of frequent flyer miles - which categorized me in the “Elite” boarding group making my loading the plane a much more personal and private event, much like a the president or presumably, Paris Hilton - and have found nothing more enjoyable than expanding my knowledge of the world and the countries in it. Flying to somewhere really is something that is both exciting and enriching. I have grown up knowing that the highest form of transportation - other than sitting on a skateboard at the top of a very steep hill - is Airplanes.

My first airplane experience ended in shambles - as it theoretically never existed. I was intended to fly to Arizona from Long Beach; a particularly easy flight, probably nothing over an hour long. I was terrified because of hearing different stories of planes crashing to the ground or any other numerous motion-picture-created scenarios and even though I had a grab bag full of potential entertainment, I was too much of a baby to even let go of the chair at the gate. I was strapped down to that chair as if I was being pulled into the jaws of a monster. My grandparents were not pleased with the scene I was making - though at the time, screaming and shouting about my refusal to enter the plane didn’t seem like such a huge issue as entering the plane would obviously eventually turn into the opening scene from the show Lost. With thousands of pages of uncolored coloring books, 3 new Game Boy games unplayed, and two incredibly heated grandparents - not only did they pay for my ticket, but the planned the weekend to satisfy the short attention span of a 7 year old - I left Long Beach airport with nothing but a bag full of unused entertainment and a mother irritated because the alone night with her husband was becoming less enticing by the minute.

Since my adolescent airplane tantrum, I have grown to love the idea of airports, airplanes, and anything adjacent. I lived through my traveling years of Irish Dance, being transported with groups of curly-haired, half-tanned - only body parts visible in an Irish Dance dress, teenage girls and their accompanying mothers (and occasionally the brave father) to every random corner of the United States. I was even broken into long distance flying on my three trips to Ireland for the World Irish Dance Championships. The tri-annual trips for competition proved to be warmups for what would hopefully be a life of constant jetsetting and ideally, a passport so full of stamps that I’d require an insert of additional pages. I began to adore flying, airplane food, and SkyMall magazine more than my car and my subscription to Vogue. I would look forward to waiting at the airport and going to the random stores for a Rolo and copy of some random tabloid - I liked looking like I flew frequently, so obviously a small candybar and copy of People proved that I didn’t require a lengthy book and bag of snacks to make it through the flight alive. I loved boarding planes and playing Peoples Choice with whoever walked by me, guessing if they were going to sit in the seat next to me. “Not him, he’s going to be a talker. Not her, she’s got wide set shoulders and I like having an arm rest to myself. Not her, she has children.” It was a game to see if the cute 15 year old guy would sit next to me because as a pre-gay little boy, these things made my day a little brighter. Rarely, though, did I have a seating partner that ever struck my fancy. I was usually stuck with middle-aged women going to see their family in my layover city of Minneapolis-St. Paul or with a random geriatric who did nothing but sleep and do crossword puzzles from the Cold War era. On the bright side, I never got on an airplane without a proper amount of in-flight entertainment. I had an iPod, GameBoy, magazine, and usually a friend or two in tow to create a fully enriching entertainment environment. Though, if there was a mini-screen on the back of the seat in front of me, there was a really good chance that all of the aforementioned forms of entertainment were voided - I’m a sucker for a well-selected range of New Releases and movies that are “Still in Theatres.”

As of recently, I have rarely taken to the air without the hour count being in the double digits. I have been extending my travels from LA to Florida or New York to LA to France or England. I have been teased by my Japan experience by meeting amazing individuals from all over the globe and having this unsettled urge to not only visit them, but see more of the world and the cultures that it holds. I have had much more of an opportunity to explore the world I will refer to as “Airplane Cuisine”. It’s far more than a bag of peanuts and complimentary beverage. It is a world of steamed broccoli on a bed of rice surrounded by peanut chicken. It is a world of dinner that is 3 courses of food fit into a 6x10 inch plate. I find that the destination country is key when you want to have proper nourishment on your 11 hour stint over whichever pond you prefer. To Japan, we had options of traditional Japanese food or a generic plate of chicken - which seems to be the one choice that every airline follows suit with: “this random food item.. or chicken.” To the Netherlands, I had Barbecue Chicken with a roll, bean salad, and chocolate cake. How is that not absolutely fantastic in a room with 200 other people and recycled air suspended 35,000 feet above a watery grave? That is a silver lining in the sky my friends - Dutch airplane dining. And though on the way to China, they were not keen on presentation - as my plate was stamped with it’s contents and expiration date on the aluminum lid that a machine had clamped over a bowls edges just days before and the other side dishes were Saran wrapped by Bai Ling - they found a way to make the eyesore of a meal high quality in both flavor and enjoyability. They could have scored extra points from the Kyle Zagat Airline Food critic’s board by not providing sliced orange and prepackaged Brioche as a dessert item, but A for effort, China Eastern.

As I am currently in Hong Kong, I am already excited for my flights from Hong Kong to Shanghai, then Shanghai to Paris, then England to Los Angeles. I have many more miles to accrue, heaps more meals to eat, and ideally, a few more hops in the Elite status line with women who’s Chihuahua’s checked vegetarian on their preferred food list and their husbands who aren’t afraid to push the limits of their cell phone and the rules limiting them on the airplane. The worst part about the flights for the remainder of this trip is that I’ll now be leaving places I wish I could stay. The last flight of a trip is always the worst because its those hours spent flying back to the place you escaped from in the first place. My flights across the world are to remind me that the life I lead in the place I live is not the only place I can be. They show me that there is something else out there that is refreshing and new while still being historical and full of culture. Seeing the world and knowing the secrets and treasures it holds at such a young age really makes you see that there is more than just what you see around where you live. It makes you appreciate the beauty of the different and gives you a reason to see more. I plan to make 2010 just as culturally broad as I was able to make 2009 - I don’t know if I can make it through this year without a real meal by Delta.

x.