A week from today, DD and I shall be on a plane heading to Athens. The one in Greece. The ancient city one. From the west coast of Canada, it’s going to take almost 15 hours to get there (almost 20 hours, if you count connection time, but I’m not going to. That’s too depressing.).
We have to take three separate flights to get there. We have to take three separate flights to get back home again. In between we will take a few bus trips, an overnight ferry ride, and two more flights. All this in 18 days.
All this because DD has graduated from university (with a very high GPA, too, said her proud mama) and when I offered her a grad trip, she chose Greece. I agreed, then suggested Istanbul too, seeing as how we’d practically be already there. That’s the two extra flights in between getting there and going home: a flight of less than an hour from Crete back to Athens, then another just a bit longer than an hour to Istanbul.
That’s eight flights within eighteen days. That’s also a problem. I often, though not always, suffer from incredible sinus pain whenever I’m in a descending plane, and it’s gotten worse every year. The only way to curb it is drugs. Copious amounts, according to the pharmacist I consulted the other day. I should starting taking them a couple of days before flying, he advised, so as to keep those sinus passages open.
“Okay,” I said dubiously. “But what about all the flights I’m taking on this trip?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s probably a good idea to take the pills the whole time you’re away then.”
He handed me a box of fifty tablets. “That should do it.”
As I paid for them, he added this little gem. “And the only problem might be that they’re non-drowsy. You might not sleep very much.”
I might not sleep very much, he said. For eighteen days. But my sinuses will be clear.