Fright to Vietnam

Singapore-Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
I didn’t sleep well because I kept thinking I would snooze through my alarm. I didn’t. Brad and I woke at 8:15, got ready slowly, and caught a taxi to the Singapore airport. I’ve been to many airports all over the world. I’ve slept in many airports all over the world. I think that should be the standard to a fine airport—if one could sleep comfortably within its confines. The airport in Singapore met and exceeded that criterion. I just wished it could have been one that I slept in, but, alas, we were only there an hour and a half before our flight to Vietnam.

A trend I’ve noticed in some of the Asian airports are internet terminals to check email or to see how the Padres are doing (American baseball, for those who don’t know). I had a few messages (thanks guys!) and found out that the Padres are still tied for first place in their division with the Dodgers. Next to the internet was a game station where one could play Playstation on a plasma TV. On either side of the wide thoroughfares, are shops of every nature selling duty-free items. Fortunately, I had exhausted my supply of Singapore dollars, so I was not able to be tempted by their wares. Continuing down toward my departure gate, I was noticing all the nooks and crannies where I would sleep if I had to be there overnight. I found the ultimate place, a movie lounge. Why couldn’t they have had that in Bangkok where we slept on the crummy floor for hours?

At the gate we wondered if we had the right flight because there were only five of us waiting for a flight that was to board in minutes. I looked over my shoulder and discovered the others: a gaggle of either Vietnamese or Singaporean tour group members were going through the metal detectors.

Garruda Indonesia was the carrier that was to safely transport us to Vietnam. We got to Ho Chi Minh all right, but it could have been better. I think I can, with great certainty, claim that it was the worst flight I’ve ever been on. Let me explain. Most US airlines board first class first, then those needing assistance or have young children, then the economy passengers beginning at back of the aircraft and finally the seats just behind first class are allowed to board. That is the most efficient way to board a plane. Garruda’s method was to board first class first, then it was open season for the rest of economy class. The plane was already an hour late boarding because of its late arrival, so maybe the tour group was already flustered or something. But I don’t think that was really the case. My prognostication was that they had never flown before, so they were ignorant to the whole procedure and etiquette of plane boarding. Chaos ensued. People were standing still in the aisles, going in the opposite flow of traffic, waiting in line for the toilet and on and on. The reservoir of the flight attendant’s patience had long run dry and she was tersely telling these people to find their seats and sit down. They stood, waited in line, and switched seats until finally seconds before taking off everyone was seated in their proper place.

The pilot indicated we had reached our cruising altitude by flipping off the seatbelt sign. Brad and I were poised, waiting to see the aisles flood with people. It wasn’t as bad as we imagined it could have been. The queue to the toilet was usually four or five deep. I know this because I was in the aisle seat in the last row in front of the toilets. Eventually I had to use the facilities, so I waited until I didn’t see anyone in line. I stood and decided to use the door on the right; the one showing the green “vacant” sign on the latch; the one that was slightly ajar. Now, to reinforce my prognostication about the gaggle never having taken a flight before, was my surprise (and to her astonishment) to find a young lady squatting on the pot upon my last investigation of its vacancy. She shoved the door in my face and the flight attendants had a little laugh at my expense while telling me that the other “vacant” toilet was, in fact, not vacant. I returned to my seat.

Aside from that, I wish I could tell you that the flight was at least smooth. Nope. I can’t do that. Turbulence was achieved several times throughout the short flight. The queue for the toilet bumped against me with every bump in the flight pattern. And while the plane jostled, the flight attendants navigated the filled aisles passing out drinks and food. The only redeeming part of the flight was, in fact, the food. I had some spaghetti with a meat sauce, but it was spicy and nice. But, once again, Garruda managed to be inefficient in their sustenance delivery and waste removal. The food was passed out from the back clear to the front two trays at a time so the attendants were hustling up and down the aisle. Later, when the food was eaten, they came back and took the trays two at a time with the garbage piling up and overflowing sometimes to the floor. Garbage bags. That’s all they needed!

I was hoping to sleep on the plane. But obviously that wasn’t going to happen. I did, however, start to doze off on our final descent just up until we encountered a firm landing. By firm, I mean my eyes popped open and I nearly jumped from my seat. Firm.

But we made it to Vietnam and at least the purpose of our mission is to travel and not to fight.