Plane food

Dear Pantry,
I never thought I’d say this on a trip to Colombia, but I miss you. I should know better than to refuse food on a plane, but when they came around offering waffles or chicken tacos my stomach was confused.

My stomach has Indiana Jones delusions, but the truth is that it can’t handle too much change or excitement. Needing to be at the airport at 3:30am, it seemed best not to go to bed. My stomach hates it when I skimp on sleep. An anvil of tiredness hit me in the head the minute I got to my seat, but I woke up when we were taxiing and about to lift off: my favorite part.

That moment when the plane starts going down the runway as fast as it can until it feels as though it can’t go any faster and then it daintily stands on tiptoe. For a second it feels like just that, a light tilting, and the stomach does a little flip of joy and you know the improbably has happened: you are flying in the belly of a great big hunk of metal.

As soon as I made sure we were safely in the air, I fell right back asleep and woke up parched, to the waffle or taco question. I was too thirsty to even consider a sweet waffle, so taco it was. But when I lifted the lid I knew I couldn’t do it. A chicken taco at 5:30am and without drinking. Wasn’t happening.

Taking the taco out of the equation left me with a small serving or fruit and a dinner roll, which I ate. But now it’s nine am and I’m starving. Thinking of you, dear Pantry.

Once I get to my parents (late lunch!) you won’t hear from me much, Pantry. But I’ll bring you something yummy!

Hungrily yours,



Majo

PS. Camera says hi. Slept the whole way, resting up for Colombia. Not much to see on the plane anyway.

Update: after almost missing my connection in Panama City due to excessive blogging, I made it home. Glad to report there have been no more hunger incidents since then.