My 7 week “welcome to retirement!” adventure has two acts.
Act 1: 3 weeks cruising with Jeremy in Alaska (get the rundown HERE)
Act 2: 4 weeks traversing around Thailand.
Connecting the two is a seemingly endless 40 hour intermission of travel from Alaska to Thailand.
July 3rd
Whittier to Anchorage
4pm: I give Jeremy a tearful goodbye as I leave the ship. There’s no cell service as the bus hurdles through the Alaskan countryside. It’s just me and my thoughts– a sometimes dangerous combination. What if I missed an entry requirement for Thailand? What if I get stuck in Seoul? What if the flight is canceled? What if the bus crashes and this is it?
5:45pm: I get to the airport, find a seat, open up my laptop, and distract my mind with work. I overhear surrounding conversations of other cruisers in similar hurry up and wait scenarios. One particularly loud woman behind me wouldn’t stop gabbing about every detail of the cruise that displeased her. In fear of turning around and snapping at her, I moved seats.
10pm: My heart races as I head to the Delta check in counter. “Do you have your proof of vaccine or negative COVID test and a Thailand travel pass?” I pull out my binder of travel materials with shaky hands. The young man gives them a look, then gives me my boarding passes. I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
July 4th
12:15am: I’m laying in the fetal position on the seats watching the midnight sun burn. In the summer, it never really gets dark in Alaska. Boarding begins. Somehow I end up in “Delta Comfort”, meaning I get to board right after first class. Pretty fancy, huh?
Anchorage to Seattle
Delta Comfort has comfier seats and more leg room. Great! There’s no one in my row. Super great! But the arm rests don’t flip up. Meaning I can’t sprawl out and get cozy. Not great. The frigid plane AC begins to blast and I curl up with my brown sweater hugged over my knees and arms inside the sleeves hugging my body– I look like a russet potato with my head popping out like a little spud.
I routinely fall asleep then startle awake from the lower backpain that comes from my contorted body position and the arm rest jutting into my kidney. Geeze. I’m not 22 anyone that’s for sure.
5:15 am: I exit the plane and immediately scout out the closest source of caffeine.
6:00 am: I find a table with power outlets and start getting work done while enjoying my overpriced coffee and breakfast sandwich that I bought using the remainder of a Starbucks gift card.
9:00am: I wander over to my gate, S16. I sit. Take a lap. Sit again. Lap again. Riveting stuff.
10:15am: Excitement alert! All passengers are called to get their documents checked. I eagerly bolt to the line, proof of vaccine and Thailand pass at the ready. A green sticker is slapped on my boarding pass. Phew!
10:50am: Boarding commences.
11:50am: Take off.
Seattle to Icheon (Seoul)
The next 11 hours are a blur. I watch The Big Lebowski, an obscure indie film, and an M. Night Shyamalan thriller called Old. My aisle seat position put a damper on my sleeping plans. As did my lack of NyQuil. Putting the pillow on the fold down tray and laying my head forward was the most successful strategy. Although “success” is a loose term.
Meal time is always the thrilling highlight of long haul flights.
For meal 1, the options were chicken, beef bulgogi, or pasta. “Beef please!” The attendant handed me a plate with the beef, veggies, rice, pasta salad, and little tub of ice cream. The beef was surprisingly tender and not totally bland. I didn’t care for the pasta salad—the seaweed in it was head scratching. The salted caramel chocolate chip ice cream was the star.
Passengers got a triple chocolate cookie as a mid flight snack. Ultra fudgy and chocolatey. I devoured it all.
Meal 2 was an egg and cheese sandwich with fruit. The sandwich reminded me a gas station number, and it was exactly what I wanted in that moment.
Somewhere in the sky it became July 5th
3:30pm: The plane lands in South Korea, and after 11 hours of sitting, my legs are screaming for some movement. I oblige by walking through the different wings and gates, scoping out the designer stores I’ll never shop at and various food options I know I won’t splurge on.
I come across a flamenco dancer performing to live music and a procession of traditionally dressed men and women. There are a few directional robots roaming around. I noticed that people would leave their backpacks and suitcases outside the bathrooms. Man does it feel great to be back in Asia.
5:00pm: My legs are telling me to move, my brain is telling me to sit. A Dunkin’ Donuts is located next to my gate so I grab an Americano to keep my eyelids propped open.
6:20pm: A woman walks through the seats with a sign saying “Please Come See Me.” My name is written on that sign. Shit.
She informs me I need to get my documents checked at the transfer gate. I arrive at said gate to find a line 10 people deep. The woman in front of me says, “I’ve been waiting for 40 minutes.” My flight boards in 30. SHIT.
More travelers come running over with flights leaving sooner than mine. Tensions are high. Stress sweat drips down my arms. The two women handling everything are starting to lose their composure.
The lines reshuffles as people with later flights gladly step aside. I make my way up behind two young American backpackers. I explain my situation, and the man with tanned skin and long hair replies, “We have a 22 hours layover here and want to get on that flight too, sorry.”
I respond, “I paid for this ticket and am close to missing my flight, and you basically want to take my spot…”
He shrugs. I raise my eyebrows and say nothing.
6:59pm: The two backpackers make their case and get turned away.
7:00pm: The woman furiously checks my vaccine and passport, gives me a green sticker of approval, and tells me to run.
7:05pm: I make it to the gate with the attendants rapidly ushering me through.
7:10pm: I take my seat, the doors close, the airplane gets ready for take off.
The next 5 hours are painless. I doze in and out to the sound of some movie. The dinner is surprisingly good– chicken that’s not dry, a light quinoa salad, and a piece of cake that ended up demolishing even though I told myself I’d only eat half.
11:00 pm: “Welcome to Bangkok.”
I shuffle through the airport in a daze that’s disrupted by immigration.
“Ma’am you arrived in Thailand in January 2020 by boat, but we have no record of you leaving.” SHITTTTTT.
Somehow my brain was able to switch on and I pulled out my old passport. It proved that I did I fact leave.
The man chuckled, good thing you had that!
Yeah… good thing.
11:45 pm: I exchange USD to TBH, get a SIM card, collect my luggage, and hop in a cab to my hotel all in a zombie like trance.
July 6th
12:15am: I arrive at THA City Loft, check in, and collapse on my bed in relief.
I made it from Alaska to Thailand.
1 thought on “A “Welcome to Retirement!” Trip Intermission: 40 Hours from Alaska to Thailand”
wow epic! That’s quite the route. cant believe the selfishness of the people before you in the line. people these days I tell’s ya Katie! still youve made it now! yay!