Greece, Day 1

Dearest readers,

While I write this (on a British keyboard, which hides some of the important keys and makes it difficult to type), most of you are still asleep. Because it's just shy of six o'clock in the morning.

But I, like the world traveler I am, have been up for HOURS. (Which is just a fancy way of saying I haven't slept yet.)

My mother, father and I left New York last night and, as a gift for mother's day, my dad upgraded two tickets to Business Class. And I, because I'm cute, charming, and the apple of my dad's eye*, actually got to sit with my mom in Business Class. That's right, folks, I flew Business Class. Where the seats recline (and incline, and do yoga poses all at the touch of a button) and the staff are extraordinarily nice, and they give you free wine and cheese and warm towels and free Burt's Bees moisturizer, and just stop short of stripping you of your clothes, giving you a massage and returning your clothes to you washed and pressed.

This, my friends, is the way to travel.

I ate warmed nuts. (Keep your comments to yourself, I'm traveling with my mother!) I ate ravioli. I ate a cheese plate. I ate Ghiradelli chocolate. I ate the airplane.

My mother and I engaged in a little bit of earplug theatre (a special kind of puppet show where the puppets are little, yellow, foamy, better) and we flung sleep masks at each other. We had seat races. I watched 1/3 of Dr. Zhivago. (Omar Sharif used to be cute!)

And now we're in the British Airways lounge in Heathrow, where they have free cereal, internet, juice, CHAMPAGNE, guys with cute accents, all the coffee you could possibly want, and slabs of meat. (It is Britain, afterall.) And cookies. Lots of cookies.

Our flight to Greece has been delayed, so we have another couple of hours to kill here. I plan to keep eating, listening to the cute accents and trying to stay awake.

Because on the flight to Greece I'm back in coach.

*sigh.*