This is actually posted a few days after I wrote it. I haven’t done the “internet on the plane” service although I think it exists.


5:00AM Paris time, in the skies over ????


Right now, I’m in an alternate reality space that I call “AirplaneLand”. I’ve racked up over 100,000 “airplane miles” this year, which is an indication of how much of my life is spent in this space. For instance, today Mary and I left the house at 5:45AM, she dropped me off in AirplaneLand at 6:15AM PST (I count the airport and other ancillary locations as part of this space) and when I arrive in Paris it will be 9:30AM the next day. That’s over a day gone. Granted, some of that is due to timezone difference (I lose 9hrs going) but this still is a significant chunk of time, if you add it all up.


AirplaneLand is a life that consists of (too much) waiting in lines, hanging out at Red Carpet Club and gates, and, of course, the plane itself. The plane is the location where time expands and contracts. Oh yes, the Red Carpet Club. If you spend a LOT of time in AirplaneLand you are rewarded and treated better than everyone else. It’s a amazingly intricate caste system; this evening at dinner, I got to request my dinner choice before almost everyone. I think they actually go by yearly milage. That’s cool, I’m a “AirplaneLand resident” after all. Similar to the difference between “resident” and “non-resident” lines when checking through customs.


AirplaneLand has its own set of rules, especially lately. Today was my first look at the gate that they have to block people so pilots can go to the bathroom. 2 of use actually asked if it was electrified. With a straight face. My least favorite is the “use the bathroom of your own caste only” rule. The planes weren’t configured for this, the bathrooms are in the wrong place. Everyone breaks this rule with impunity, but I seem to be one of the few who gets physically blocked by the airplane personnel. I was “less than thrilled” at the selective enforcement when this happened recently. It was empty, I was sitting immediately next to the “wrong” one and lots of folks had just tripped over me to get there (and they were the wrong caste too). Seemingly little things mean a lot in AirplaneLand.


Oh well, I told folks I’d write about my “second home” and that’s it. In about 3 hours they wake us up and serve us “breakfast”. Don’t know where the day’s gone…well, OK, I do know.