In that zone of too excited to sleep and too exhausted to do otherwise, I fantasized that our two young children, Charles and Ginger, would be in dreamland for hours after our already tiring day of multiple plane changes. I pulled pillows and blankets from the bin above our bulkhead seats and optimistically constructed our nest for the seventeen-hour flight to Lagos, Nigeria. Carl rolled his eyes and groaned as the three young men in the next row whooped the opening toast of a trans-Atlantic party.
The stewardesses, all looking like models out of Vogue, removed their white gloves and perky hats and served dinner. By the time they gathered the trays, and the clinking of china and silver died away, the next row’s decibel level began to climb. Between fitful catnaps, wrapped in the economy cabin’s coarse blanket and recycled air, my mind touched down here and there on events that had led to this life-altering move. Bee Bloeser, in Vaccines & Bayonets
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