I flew out of the little airport at New Bern, N.C., on Thursday at noon. For the first time, the plane from New Bern to Charlotte was actually a jet, not a propeller-driven aircraft. It was a 50-minute flight to Charlotte, with a three-hour layover there.
At New Bern Airport, passengers walk out onto the tarmac with their carry-on bag to get on the plane. If their carry-on is of any size at all, the ground crew requires the passenger check it through to Charlotte. A crew member stands out next to the plane with a cart to collect all the large "carry-ons."
On its path to Charlotte, the plane flew down the southeastern N.C. coast to about Wilmington, and then it turned west for the descent into CLT airport. I had a window seat and took some aerial pictures of barrier islands and coast inlets, which I am posting here. I also read an article about chickens in the U.S. Airways in-flight magazine. The article was informative and entertaining. It was an excerpt from a soon-to-be-published book titled Birdology by a woman named Sy Montgomery.
My flight to Paris departed from Charlotte and was direct. Security was very light. At New Bern, I had to take off my shoes and jacket. My carry-on bag was x-rayed. There was a perfunctory search through the bag as I walked out of the terminal onto the tarmac to board the plane. Oh, and U.S. Airways charged me $55 dollars for baggage since I checked two suitcases through to Paris. I was not happy to pay that extra fee, which came as a surprise.
The three hours at CLT passed quickly. When I checked in at gate D2 for the direct flight to Paris, there was no security check at all. The ground crew looked at my passport and then asked me how long I was planning to stay in France. They had noticed that I didn't have a return ticket. I told them I live in France and showed them my resident's card. That was that.
When I got on the plane, an Airbus 330, and sat down, the man in the seat next to mine held out his hand for me to shake and said "Hi, I'm Ken." I replied, "Well, hi, I'm Ken too." We talked for a while — he was traveling with his wife to Avignon, where their daughter is a student. They used to live in France, the couple said — in Besançon, in the east. They were planning to go on a car tour with their daughter, who is on spring break starting this coming week.
Then I watched a movie and some HBO TV shows on the screen on the back of the seat ahead of me. The screen was larger than any seat-back screen I'd ever seen before. The picture was good and so was the sound. The plane was nearly but not completely full. The food was chicken or pasta. I didn't sleep. We landed early, at 6:35 a.m. Paris time.
I had a good two hours to kill before catching my TGV down to Tours. I did that by reading magazines and having a cup of tea and a croissant in an airport café. The TGV left on time but it was a zoo. This was Good Friday, and a lot of people were traveling for the Easter or spring break, I assume. They all had a log of luggage, as did I, and they piled it up on seats and in the little lobby-like space where the train doors and bathrooms are.
I'm glad to be home but it's rainy and chilly. Things are greener than when I left. Callie was delighted to see me again. I slept 11 hours last night but I'm still in a daze.