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Flying High on Hydroxyzine

Or: Flying in the Era of Swine Flu

By Mimi SonnerPublished 12 months ago 4 min read
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The view from my window

It was my first time traveling to Japan as an adult. I'd flown the 12-hour flight many times since I was a child, and I never, ever had the ability to sleep on a plane. Every flight I've ever been on, I got to watch jealously as everyone else napped while I tried to crochet, read, or watch movies on the screen on the back of the plane seat.

This time, I thought, would be different. I had a plan. A few weeks before my flight, I had a severe allergic reaction and was prescribed the very strong antihistamine hydroxyzine. I flew from O'Hare airport to LAX, and while I was at LAX waiting for my flight to Narita, Japan, I would take the hydroxyzine so I could sleep through twelve hours above the clouds.

Oh boy was I mistaken that the plan would work.

When we boarded, I was assigned the window seat, with two brothers sitting next to me towards the aisle. It was their first time flying, so I happily left the window open for them so that they could watch our ascent and enjoy the view from the clouds. Not that long after we hit cruising altitude, we were served dinner (curry chicken) and the brothers fell asleep.

The hydroxyzine started to kick in and I was ecstatic. "Taken" was the in-flight movie, so I turned that on to entertain myself when the flight attendant asked me to shut my window.

The movie ended, and I was still awake. Drowzy and loopy from the medicine, but awake. I started playing "Taken" again. To this day, I have no idea how many times I watched the movie. Not only was I awake during the entire flight, I was feeling increasingly high from the powerful antihistamine.

Now, this was during the era of swine flu. When we landed, people in full hazmat suits boarded the plane, collected our trash and handed out questionnaires. I filled out the customs forms, which I'd done what felt like millions of times, and then became incredibly confused when there was a new form.

It asked if I felt any cough or cold symptoms. No, I checked off. Then, the form instructed me to observe my seat mates. Did they cough or sneeze at all during the flight? No, I checked off, suddenly feeling strange that the airline, or government, would ask me to snitch on my seat mates to prevent the spread of disease. My drug-addled mind understood, but still felt odd that everyone on that plane had to answer the same questions.

When we deplaned, instead of going through the normal passport and customs checks, we were routed to a quarantine area, where more staff members in PPE checked our temperatures and questioned us about our symptoms, if we had any. Maybe my slurred speech made my interrogator suspicious, but I was healthy, and passed through the quarantine checkpoint with a disposable face mask and a paper stating in English and Japanese that I passed quarantine.

So, some details about O'Hare airport. When you exit the plan and make your way towards baggage claim, there are escalators that lead you down to the luggage carousels and signs to point you towards trains to the city, since O'Hare itself is fairly distant from the heart of Chicago. It's the same thing with Narita airport. You exit your terminal, go down some escalators to baggage claim, with signs pointing you towards trains to Tokyo, since Narita isn't as close to the city as one might assume.

I was high and had just watched "Taken" about three times, and dealt with more people in PPE and hazmat suits than I ever had in my life. I was scared, because the similarity of that section of Narita airport and O'Hare airport was uncanny. I anxiously thought that somehow, the plane had turned around and I was back in Chicago. Nevermind that most of the signs were in Japanese.

I always pack light, so I didn't have any luggage to wait for. As I have done since I was a child, I walked up to the ticket counter for the train to Tokyo and struggled to ask for a ticket. I was high, and despite Japanese being my first language, I'd forgotten the word for "ticket."

The counter attendee helpfully asked, "Kippu ga hoshii desu ka?" Oh, KIPPU. "Kippu" means "ticket!" I answered in the affirmative. I paid her and she handed me the ticket, and informed me that in the future, I could purchase a ticket at nearby automatic machines. Things had changed since my last trip to Japan, apparently.

Embarrassed, high, and running through Liam Neeson's lines from "Taken" in my head, I boarded the train to Tokyo and swore that I'd never use substances on a flight again.

Years later, I would go back on that self-oath, but that's another story for another long, fully-awake flight.

travel
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About the Creator

Mimi Sonner

Just another liberal arts degree holder looking for career fulfillment in all the wrong places.

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