On my way

I was so excited with my trip, I wrote this on the airplane, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean:

So I have yet to make it to Europe, but I am already in love with the continent if this airplane ride has anything to show for the continent. From the “Bon voyage!” farewells to the variety of languages, I am in heaven. I am currently debating between listening to Portishead, Led Zeppelin or Aretha Franklin from my personal playlist. The playlist that I get to pick my own songs for. Out of a multitude of albums from fantastic artists. Like I said, I am in love.

Unfortunately, listening to Justice and Mika makes me realize just how small of a space I am confined to for several hours more since I cannot dance in my seat, so I have ruled them out for the rest of this flight. I’m hoping that the rest of this trip continues to fascinate me with all the small details.

Unlimited wine, gourmet meals and a great entertainment selection is apparently what I find bliss in. There is also a chance that I am delirious, given that the only sleep I’ve managed was from 4-7:30 a.m. this previous night. I know I should probably get some rest, given that I’ve already watched “With Love From Paris” (appropriate title, but John Travolta has def lost that Danny Zukko flair) and an episode of “Mad Men,” but all these possibilities on my little TV screen have me captivated.

Hopefully, my adrenaline rush can come to a stop soon so I can get some rest. I’m thinking of putting on Coldplay now, but this just makes me wonder about current personal events. It’s funny how some people come into your life unexpectedly, but they manage to stick around with significance for so long despite how easily you can logically dismiss them. And how one or two songs will always bring you back to them, even when the lyrics’ real significance occurs from events after that song was added to your iPod by them.

On that emotional note, I’m hoping some “Sex and the City” will help my fall merrily to sleep, with dreams of Manolos and my journalism career being just as fabulous, like it does at home. Maybe my Mr. Big will even happen to be in Paris too. A girl can only hope.