The kids have been spectacularly well-behaved on this extraordinarily long trip home. They've not slept ONE wink despite the fact that Italy-time, they're close to pulling an all-nighter. I have to believe they'll sleep like the dead when we finally get home. Fingers crossed for a quick trip through customs. Fingers also crossed for our plane not being diverted due to the "unruly passenger" who had to be restrained in the rear of the plane by two air marshals; we're all sitting in lockdown for the last 90 minutes of the flight. And I swear to you that a baby to my left is barking like a spokesman for the croup group, while a guy at my 6:00 is hacking up a lung. Blech!
A final fingers crossed that we are not served any more food. In all, non-hyperbolic honesty, the slop they've given us has been absolutely revolting, inedible scariness. Weird rounds of what looks to be potted meat food product, red paprika chips, extremely gelatinous and multi-fruited marble cake with icing, burned "curry". Suffice it to say that I'm glad to have enjoyed a delicious Brie, fig mustard and sundried tomato sandwich on seeded bread back in Frankfurt.
Presently, one of the most affected poser-types I've seen in a long while -he looks like Howie Mandell crossed with Geoffrey Rush and persisted in wearing a fedora and his sunglasses (until he lost them) inside the plane even when the overhead lights were dimmed- is repacking his bag in the aisle (seatbelt sign is on, right?) and wrapping multiple packs of Marlboros in button-downs. During boarding, he had to be told twice to sit down and turn his phone off, and once replied to the flight attendant, "can I just sit on your lap?" Ugh, you lecherous yucky man. The flight attendant just found the previously lost sunglasses, he said she saved his career and he's now, of course, wearing them again. Who the eff is this guy?
Time to get home.