This was the first time I had ever flown, and this flight would be about 16 hours long, with a stop in Amsterdam for refueling, where we would stay on board for the remainder of the flight to Jordan.
J and I had barely gotten any sleep the night before, and had left for the airport early in the morning, as we had to make connections from Cincinnati to New York. And, since it was an international flight, we had to be there several hours early. This was the case for most everyone, and so by the time we boarded, we were all totally beat. I was still feeling the excitement of it all, even though I was nearly ready to collapse exhausted into my seat.
J liked to board as quickly as possible. He had anxieties about not being able to get enough overhead room right above our seats for our carry-on luggage, and thus having to store it further away from where we were sitting, causing a huge inconvenience for the entire flight if we needed anything from our bags. Which, of course, we would! I was clueless, and so let him take the lead on all matters concerning this trip. The airplane had rows of 3 seats lined down both sides, with 8 seats in the center section. My husband was a rather large man, standing 6'3'' and weighing around 280, and so seating for such a long flight was then (and always has been) an important arrangement to him. However, there was always lots of vying for seating arrangements, as family members all wanted to sit together, or be as close as possible to one another.
J's biggest concern was that he have as much leg room as possible, but on Royal Jordanian, the bulk heads were always reserved (as is the case on most international flights) for women with small children. And believe me, this flight was packed with women and children (a situation
I found extremely unnerving)! Interestingly, the Jordanian government allowed children to fly free in order to insure that children could regularly fly back and forth to the States to see family members, thus keeping family and country ties both strong. This meant that almost any flight on Royal Jordanian during the summer would be filled to capacity with mostly women and children. To us, it was less expensive than other airlines, which kept the costs of tickets lower, and since Dr. Mare was paying for some of the supervisors' tickets, this is the airline he wanted to use.
J and I found our seats, stuffed our luggage above our heads :) and settled in. We had 2 seats along the side of the plane; I had the center seat and he took the aisle. Some other poor soul had the window seat. Loud Jordanian music played as all the passengers boarded, rearranged all their seating to be more to their liking, made requests from the stewardesses for things they needed, hushed their children (or not), and then finally fastened themselves in for taxiing down the runway. This (and I swear it's true) took almost 2 hours!
J assured me that this was not in the least bit extraordinary. I was so tired I stopped caring about how much longer I had calculated we'd be on the plane at this rate. I did, however, still feel like crying. Fortunately (I say this sarcastically) by around 11:00 we were in the air, and I was saying good-bye to New York City and to the U.S. For all intents and purposes I was already in Jordan. Dinner was served about an hour later, with a choice of either chicken or beef. (This is standard fare for the Middle East). On the screen every so often, besides showing us how far we'd traveled, where we were, and how far we had yet to go (and this gets
very boring after awhile, though I was fascinated at first), the location of Mecca would appear. This was so that during the flight the Muslims would know which direction to face as they knelt on the floor and prayed. This happened several times on this flight (like I said, it was a very long flight!). I was somewhat clueless as to what was happening exactly, as there was so much constant activity going on around me, and I was so tired. All I wanted to do was get some shut-eye. I was squished in next to my husband and some Muslim man that I kept trying not to touch, and so getting comfortable was not at all easy! By this time I was feeling very grouchy, sitting up trying to sleep on what was the longest night I'd spent in forever. And then darn it, if it wasn't only but about 2 hours before the sun started to shine in the morning sky over the Atlantic Ocean (remember, we were flying east)! Though everyone tried to keep their window shades down, it was hopeless trying to ignore all those bright rays seeping through the cracks. And yes, using those airline blindfolds over your eyes does work, but I couldn't sleep anyway. Besides, people were beginning to stir, breakfast would be served shortly, and every passenger would ultimately have to use the bathroom! I tried really hard not to
ever have to go to the bathroom (I was younger then), but had to at least once during the night. This meant a long walk past a sea of strangers, waiting in line with women who mostly didn't speak any English (or who didn't feel the need to with me), until it was my turn. I can only say that my first experience in an airplane bathroom was shocking to say the least. By the time I got around to going, they were all in a mess! After I shut myself in, I surveyed the situation, making absolutely certain that I had actually locked the door, fearful that somebody might walk in on me, or that we'd hit an air pocket (either one), catching me with my pants down. Only wearing socks, my feet got soaked, as water and toilet paper both drenched the floors. Hoping that there would be enough paper left, and that it wouldn't get sucked down the toilet, I carefully placed some over the footprints that I faintly saw outlined on the seats! Then I peed and got out of there as quickly as possible!
J suggested to me later that the custom of sitting down on a toilet seat was possibly altogether too foreign of an idea to many of the passengers who might have preferred squatting over it. (I would learn more about this later.) I really didn't want to make a second trip to the bathroom, but geez, on such a long flight you have too. So I excused myself again, this time taking with me my toiletry bag so that I could freshen up after my night's "sleep." I washed my face, put fresh make-up on, sprayed my body with some powdery feminine smelling aerosol, changed my underwear (I did all this while trying not to touch a thing!), fixed my hair, brushed my teeth, and exited like a pro. I was only smiling on the outside as I returned to my seat. After breakfast and one movie, we would land in Amsterdam. Half way there, and I would
not be allowed off this plane.
