Frankfurt: not as delicious as the name suggests

As the broad readership may well know, international flights are just barely less unpleasant than getting a colonoscopy and a root canal at the same time. Spending eight hours cramped into a tiny space with the worst possible Hollywood drivel for entertainment is no one's idea of fun (unless, like me, you're an aficionado of the "Momma's House" series).

But I've got to say this was the second-best international flight I've ever experienced (the first by a long way was flying from LA to Melbourne in business class when I was like the only person in the upstairs cabin of a 747--it was like being the Dalai Lama and the Sultan of Brunei all rolled into one).

Yet this time around the plane (an inauspiciously named Airbus) was quite spacious and comfortable. There's also a feature that allows you to select your own movies (I watched Momma's House like four times). And the guy in the seat next to me was even skinnier than I am (plus, I noticed on the way in that the two fattest people on the plane were seated next to each other in the same two-person coach class row in a brilliant moment of karmic justice--the one on the outside literally had to lean out into the aisle thanks to their collective girth).

Now it didn't thrill me that I couldn't cut down on my six-hour layover in Frankfurt (where I am now), but that's afforded me the chance to come into the downtown area of the city and look around, which has been, well, not that great really. But despite staying up all night I'm juiced on travel adrenaline and not even that much caffeine.

Now got to run; my wireless time here in Frankfurt Hauptwache is about to run out (yeah, I'm at a Starbucks, what of it?).

{Original time of writing: 7am, Sunday June 12.}