Inside Scoop

I am writing this post from the future. 

I’ve concluded that since I am now in Russia and eight hours ahead of the US, I can effectively see into the future and can ruin all of your good TV shows for you.  Watch, I’ll show you just how ahead of the game I am by telling you an inside scoop that only someone from the future would know: George Zimmerman is found not guilty.  Mind blown.

Because I am a teenager after all, I woke up after breakfast and instead had a brunch of a Chipotle burrito (the real breakfast of Champions).   And after hurriedly packing up and hoping that I didn’t forget anything (after all, there is a first time for everything…I wish), we met the NYO group downstairs.   I managed to avoid an incident that included almost leaving my travel documents in the hotel bathroom (I don’t think it counts because I remembered them before the bus pulled out) and we began the “adventure” of group travel. 

Warfare has been described as a series of brief bursts of action followed by extremely extensive periods of boredom.  It is the same thing when traveling with a large group.  Think the No Child Left Behind Act, but in an airport.  So we waited first to get our boarding passes, then to go through security, then to transfer to our terminal, then to get on the plane.  All in all, it was a total waiting time of three and a half hours.  I’ve decided that this experience is what purgatory feels like. 

Because it was my first international flight, there were a few things that I learned that I would like to share with you.  First:  If you are flying on British airways, everyone speaks with an English accent.  Don’t laugh, it wasn’t that obvious from my point of view.  Secondly, chefs who prepare plane food should be given their own food chain.  No joking, the pasta I had on the plane could have gotten past a round of Top Chef and was made with half the resources than the mystery meat served in a full-size school cafeteria.  I’m not sure which was the greater miracle: the ability to speed through the air in a giant mass of metal or the flavor in that preserved pasta.  Thirdly, planes are the reasons that Blockbuster went out of business.  Why rent a DVD when you could watch unlimited movies on an airplane?  And it’s free…or it comes with the purchase of an international flight ticket.  On second thought, maybe Netfix was the reason. 

I must have used up all the bad plane karma on the way to Purchase because all of our connecting flights were on time and in a way, it was a tad uneventful.  Oh well, better luck next time.  But, we had finally arrived in Russia. 

And oh was it confusing.  After stepping off the plane, I realized that this is what babies feel like.  Russian characters mean nothing, no one is saying anything you can understand, and the people surrounding you all of a sudden seem very big and scary.  I barely managed to avoid going to the fetal position in the middle of the airport, because I figured it wouldn’t help my status with the Russians.  Our group moved to the customs counter where they would inspect our passports.  Despite the reports of earlier people who had gone, I wasn’t asked any questions and instead just slid my passport under the window to the woman behind it.  I was excited because so far I hadn’t proven I was a total clumsy tourist.  That lasted for about ten seconds.  As I was retrieving the passport and visa confirmation form, my hand flicked the passport at a surprisingly high speed right back onto the keyboard of the customs officer.  And by her reaction, I’m fairly certain that the Russian police, KGB, and Olympic Gymnastics team were on their way to tackle me before the woman realized that I wasn’t trying to throw a weapon of mass destruction at her.  So instead, I sheepishly apologized (in English) and tried to make my way through the gate. 

Having successfully perpetuating the dumb American stereotype, we made our way to the buses to wait for the strings to clear customs.  I’m not entirely sure why they had to declare their instruments and we did not, but I took this as another factor to add to my extensive list of reasons not to play the violin.  And after another hour and a half of spider solitaire on the bus, the rest of the group arrived and we drove into the city. 

I’ve watched the Amazing Race for awhile and always wondered why it was so hard to follow a map and navigate somewhere.  Like what’s so hard about directions?  You know, maybe it’s the fact that the English alphabet has been distorted, rotated, and combined to form new letters and sounds on the street signs.  It gets better.  The H letter, instead of maintaining some level of consistency, makes the sound of an N.  My name in Russian?  HPKKP.  Yeah, now try to figure out how to navigate the highways to Moscow.

But when we finally did get to Moscow, someone must have forgot to tell Russia that buildings aren’t supposed to be gorgeous and instead should be designed with functionality and uniformity in mind.  And in our walk around Red Square, we all gaped like the stereotypical Japanese tourists in New York City.  We had everything, matching NYO T-shirts, cameras, and a complete disregard for the fact that people may or may not be living in the city that we were gawking at.  And when the church of St. Basil came into view, it seemed like something out of Candyland or one of those cheesy animated movies from the same people who created the Rudoph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Christmas special.  It would have seemed surreal and fantasy-like, had there not have been a McDonalds (although it was cleverly disguised by the Russian alphabet).  It was certainly a nice start to my first night in Europe.

So, it is certainly cool to be living in the future.  There aren’t any flying cars yet, but I’d say the architecture makes up for the hover planes and daily space travel.  So, I assume by now you’d like to run and tell all of your friends on Facebook about your inside information on the George Zimmerman case.  Maybe tomorrow, I’ll tell you in advance what the Royal Baby’s name is.