Hello, America- IIIIIIIIII'm Home!

At 14 1/2 hours, thanks to good weather and a pilot who flew our plane like he stole it, it was a shorter flight than we had expected. This is good because, as anyone who has been on one of those long flights knows, after the first 8 hours it becomes a kind of endurance test and at some point you find yourself looking at the time more and more often, first in amazemnent, then in frustration and then, finally, in resignation.

At some point, you've watched all of the movies and television show episodes that you care to, read every magazine and newspaper on the plane, created your own "playlist" using the onboard music channel, re-arranged everything in your carry-on luggage and read the in-flight shopping magazine. Twice.

Admittedly, I have less right to complain about than most people since I have always flown these long hauls while sitting in Business class. Flying business class deadens the pain, for sure. This time, however, I was even luckier than usual. On this trip our plane was a brand, spankin' new 777 and Cathay Pacific upgraded me from Business to First class.

Folks, this was a S-W-E-E-T ride and I would not have minded if it had lasted another 15 hours. Hot towels? Check. Real silverware? Check. Champagne and caviar (seriously) ? Check. Pan fried Sea Bass with Tomato Concasse and black truffle oil? Check. Constant attention from the flight attendant in the way of pillow-fluffing, immediate refills of Champagne or Coke Zero? Check.

Best. Flight. EVER.

I spent most of my time reading, watching episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm, watching movies, doing crossword puzzles and pinching myself. If I have any complaint at all it's that I was having so much fun that I couldn't sleep.

The first class seat is really more of a personal space than a seat. I suppose this is why the airlines calls it a "suite". It has a good sized desk area, a movable flat screen tv hooked up to a state-of-the-art entertainment system, and a super comfortable seat that can be set in all manner of positions- the most useful of which is flat. Like a bed. What's more, there's ample closet space at every seat and tucked away in there I found a mattress about two inches thick that could be put over the seat as it lay flat, an eider down comforter and a nice, flufy pillow. All of them smelled fresh and clean, naturally. Fantastic.

So, anyway, after our flight we had a car arranged to pick us from JFK and drive us for another hour to our hotel around 57th Street and 8th Avenue near Central Park West in midtown Manhattan.

Dunno what it was, perhaps perpetual motion and sleeplessness had finally caught up with me, but as soon as we got into the lobby I received a rather demanding message from my stomach, insisting that I find a bathroom. Immediately. Quickly I turned to The Girl, said "I think I'm gonna puke", followed it up a fraction of a second later with "Yep, I am" and sprinted off toward the men's room.

I didn't make it.

Actually, that's not entirely true. I did manage to make it into the men's room but that was as far as I got before I redecorated the formerly well-appointed walls and floor with chocolate mousse and Red Bull. As you can well imagine, the new color scheme wasn't pretty.

Howzat for making a grand coming-home entrance?