Back in October, 2019, I had the bright idea to go down to New Orleans. On Halloween. Because if you're going to New Orleans you might as well do it on one of the wildest times of the year. Allegedly, Halloween is bigger than New Years in New Orleans (but not quite as big as Mardi Gras) and I wanted to be part of it.
A lot of people asked me 'why New Orleans'. It seemed like an... uncommon choice. Not weird in any way but its just... not the first thing that comes to mind when you're planning a trip to the US. For me, though, it was a plan long in the making. When people asked me why I chose to go to New Orleans, I usually made up some story how I find the mixture of different cultures and religions fascinating (and I do!) but the truth is much nerdier than that. First of all, New Orleans is kind of like the Voodoo capital of the US and we all know how I'm into such dark and twisted stuff. I just can't help to be drawn to the macabre. And the second (and even nerdier) reason was 'Interview with the Vampire'.
See, I was a preteen when I first saw the movie and I fell in love with it. I taped it (back in the old days when VHS tapes were a thing) and watched it almost religiously for months. Like, I would come home from school, pop it into the VCR and not move until it was over. It had everything: a dark, romantic atmosphere, creepy swamps, sexy vampires (yeah, yeah, I know its starred Tom Cruise but back in those days he wasn't crazy and weird yet) and voodoo stuff. I ever read the book back to back several times. New Orleans just seemed so dark and mysterious and magical in the movie/book and even as I grew out of my obsession with vampires, there was still a part of my mind that thought it would be fun to go there one day. I forgot that part for a long time, got into other stuff (I got reeeeally into Asian shit) but when American Horror Story: Covenant came out, my interest was renewed. So, once I had enough money gathered and I had nothing else to do, I bought the tickets and got ready. 'Oh, so this is a story about your trip to New Orleans? That sounds like fun,' I hear you ask expectantly.
Nope. This story has nothing to do with my trip. Well, not the actual trip itself, anyway. This story is about the process of getting to New Orleans. If this was an episode of Family Guy, it would be titled 'The Road to New Orleans' and it would be a hell of a lot more interesting than this hot mess of a monologue, but alass, you must make do with what I am able to provide you with.
My journey began on... uh... a Tuesday? I guess? Who remembers anymore. What I do remember is having breakfast and then taking a two hour train to Tallinn to get to the airport. I arrived with just enough time to get through security and slowly wander to the correct gate before we started boarding. For once in my life I wasn't in the airport 12 hours early like usual but it didn't bother me much. I was still full from breakfast and didn't need any supplies anyway so I was okay (I thought). Spoilers: I did need supplies.
I had my first layover in Oslo. The flight took about... four hours? Three? I don't really remember, but it wasn't super long. The layover itself was less than an hour - something that set me on edge but I figured I would make it, if everything went smoothly. So, as soon as we'd landed, I hurried off to find my gate. I have to take a moment to say that Gardermoen airport is one of the chillest airports I've ever had the pleasure of being in. Everything just went super smoothly. I had less than an hour to get from my arrival gate to a trans-Atlantic flight and everything just... worked. No long security check lines, no waiting forever to show my passport to some bored airport employee who couldn't care less, no endless corridors packed with slow-moving tourist groups. And this was like 6 pm on a Tuesday!
Sadly, since I had so little time for my layover, I didn't have the opportunity to have a look around or even have a bite to eat, because my flight started boarding as soon as I got the the gate. 'Whatever,' I thought confidently, 'This is a trans-Atlantic flight. They'll serve us dinner soon enough.'
BUT! It was... Norwegian Air!!!! *Cue the sound of thunder and the screaming voices of a thousand lost souls*
I knew I was going to have to fly Norwegian when I first booked the tickets and I knew them to be one of the cheaper airlines out there, but I thought it didn't matter that much. I hadn't heard too many horrible things about them and the tickets were cheap, so I just shrugged and thought 'How bad could it possibly be'. Oh, the folly of youth! I was too young and naive to understand what I was getting into. I would have to learn the hard way.
So, I got on and found my seat and the first thing I noticed was that there was no little pillow or blanket on my seat. Or any seat, for that matter. Weird. I had always gotten a blanket/pillow/vanity set combo on all my other long-haul flights but whatever. I guessed they were cheaping out on that front. Well, I had a warm jacket on and I've never used that pillow anyway so I thought it would be fine. The movie options were abysmal, but I was used to that. There were a few things I was willing to watch and it was only an eight hour flight anyway so I figured I didn't need that much entertainment. I got as comfortable as one possibly can get on a tightly packed airplane and chose my first movie. We took off, went though the usual security routine and all that jazz and then it was time for dinner.
'Passangers with pre-ordered meals will receive them shortly. All other passangers are welcome to purchase food and drink items from the food cart passing through the aisles in a few moments. You can pay by...'
Wait... waaaaait a moment... I have to pay? I have to pay for food and water on an eight-hour flight? I have to use my hard-earned money to buy a tiny cup of water... on a trans-Atlantic flight?! Now, I'm a frugal beast at the best of times and I can understand not offering earplugs for free or blankets or slippers or whatever but WATER? On an EIGHT HOUR flight?! What type of sadistic dystiopian logic was that?! I'd paid hundreds of euros for the ticket and literally the only thing I got for it was a seat and a seatbelt? Not even a sip of water?! It couldn't be true! No airline could be this cheap! But they were.
Now, most of you already know how cheap I am so I don't have to explain why I refused to buy anything. Was I hungry? Yes. Did I really need something to eat or drink? Also yes. But was I going to pay for airplane food? Hell no! I have not and will not pay for something so painfully mediocre! I would rather eat raisin bread (an abomination diguising itself as food) than pay for airplane food. I'm not an animal! And thus I went on a hunger strike... that nobody even noticed... until...
So a few hours go by and I finish my movie and everything is still kind of okay. The seat is uncomfortable but they always are so I didn't make a big deal of it. I tried to sleep for a bit but sleeping on a plane is borderline impossible at the best of times (and this was not one of those times). I think I did manage to doze off for a few minutes but soon enough I woke up again. And then things got... weird.
Something was wrong. I couldn't exactly say what it was but something felt... off. I wasn't dizzy or anything but my body felt both hot and cold at the same time and I was just super uncomfortable. I tried taking deep breaths, shiftling in my seat and closing my eyes but nothing seemed to work. I just felt... off. 'Okay, I guess I'm just super tired,' I thought, trying to gather myself, 'I'm just gonna go to the bathroom, splash some cold water on my face and hope it'll make me feel better.' That sounded like a good plan. I wasn't feeling any better so something needed to be done. I undid my seatbelt and got up. And then somebody was softly shaking me.
'Miss? Can you get up? We need to get you out of the aisle. It's not safe.'
Bitch, what? Here I was, minding my own business, trying to get some sleep and some annoying flight attendant was shaking me awake. And what about the aisle? I was safely in my seat! Or... wait... Why was my face pressed against the carpet? And why did it feel like I was horisontal? Oh... oh damn...
'Miss, we need to move you. Can you get up?' the flight attendant asked again, more pressingly this time.
Okay, so apparently I'd fainted. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Well, I could still salvage the situation. All I needed to do was to get up and move to a 'safer spot' like they told me to. I could do that. I totally could. I placed my hands on the ground and slowly lifted myself up.
Except that I didn't. I passed out again. Next thing I know I was laying on my back in the galley, next to the food trolleys, and I was surrounded by people. One of them was a flight attendant, then there was a guy, who later turned out to be a paramedic, then a norwegian woman, who later turned out to be a doctor, and two nurses who were sent away as soon as it was clear I wasn't dying. The paramedic took my pulse while the doctor checked my pupils and asked the usual questions about me (like my name and age) and then went through the checklist without actually considering our specific circumstances:
'Do you know where we are?'
'Uh... in an airplane... somewhere over the Atlantic?'
'What day is it?'
'Umm... you do realise we're flying over several timezones and this is a red eye? We started on Tuesday. I have no idea what day it currently is.'
'Do you know where you are heading?'
'Do you mean to ask where I am headed or where this plane is headed cause those are two different things. I know the plane is headed to New York but I only have a layover there.'
'When was the last time you ate?'
'I don't even know what time it is. Don't ask me to do math!'
'Where are you from?' the paramedic then asked me, probably to make me feel more at ease, because the doctor lady was kind of pissing me off.
'Estonia,' I answered, fully expecting them to change the subject to avoid the awkward 'where's that' conversation.
'Oh, Estonia?' the flight attendant piped in happily, 'Ты говори́шь по-ру́сски?'
Really, girl? Really? I passed out twice and am laying on the probably disease-ridden floor of your cheap-ass airplane and you're throwing Russian at me? I let out a sigh. I just couldn't help myself. Of all the things I'd had to deal with on this flight, this was just the one that broke my resolve.
'No, I don't. I don't speak a word of Russian,' I told her as politely as I could muster.
'That's weird. Estonians usually do. I'm originally from Belarus so it's almost like we're neighbours,' she continued enthusiastically, oblivious of the glare I was giving her.
First of all, she was clearly from Boston but whatever. Second of all, geography was not her strong suit, apparently. To be fair, if you live in the US and you look at a map of Europe then Estonia and Belarus might seem close to each other but... no. Just no. Don't quit your day job, flight attendant girl.
Hypoglycemia. That was the official verdict the doctor went with. It made sense. I hadn't eaten in... a long while, I was under a lot of stress with all the traveling and the lack of any liquids in my system just kind of made things come crashing down. The annoying flight attendant then suddenly found a large bottle of water, some orange juice and a bag of cookies that she was willing to part with, completely free of charge. I know: a whole two cookies! They really did spoil me. It took me like twenty minutes to get back on my feet and return to my seat, having gotten free food, drinks and even a blanket out of the whole ordeal. Sure, I spent the rest of the flight super paranoid because every time I started falling asleep I was uncertain whether I was actually dozing off or if I was about to pass out again. It was very confusing. But, moral of the story is: if you want free stuff on a cheap flight then all you need to do is pass out. Is it worth it? Nope. But is it fun? Also no. Just don't fly Norwegian, kids. Do yourself a favour and choose a better airline.
Oh, and the trip itself went great, thanks for asking. Perhaps one day I'll continue this story and talk about New Orleans itself but that is for Future-Grete to decide. Present-Grete needs to rest her hands now for she is old and tired and has important things to do.
