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“$600 is a lot of money… Can I think about it a little more?” I said to Steve, hesitating.

“Bridget. We’re talking about ONLY $600 FOR A MONDAY FORKING, GOURD DRAINING ROUND, TRIP TO JAPAN!!” Steve yelled, for a third time, exapseration dripping off of him.

Okay, maybe this isn’t exactly what he said, but I really don’t think I can get away with publishing Steve’s colorful expletives in all their glory without needing many parental advisories on this website.

“This isn’t going to be around to think about for very long. If we want this flight, we need to book now,” he said, his voice as firm as his grip on his phone, open to some cheap flights alert page.

“Ok… Okay,” I said, silently apologizing to my already fairly empty, beat-up old wallet. It was Steve who would regret pushing me into this impulsive decision later anyway, and have to front my share of the rent for that month since I was still learning Steve’s budgeting ways.

We booked the impulsive 6-hour flight to Japan, started scheming our excuses to our bosses for the reason we HAD to take a 2.5-week vacation with only 2 months’ notice, and packed our bags. I had flown a lot as a child, but not much during my teenage years.

Steve was the one with the more recent experience in air travel, so whenever we had traveled together until that point, he usually coordinated the flights and booking. I trusted Steve wholeheartedly when it came to this, but something about this $600 flight business felt a little off to me. And goodness, was I sure right to have been worried about it. Not only did I receive a round-trip ticket to Japan for $600, I received a very interesting experience in travelling, allergies and my diet.

Because the flight was such an unbelievabl price, as anyone would expect, the bags were a little expensive if you went overweight, but the real reason this flight was so cheap was because you were flying with Turkish Airlines and would be staying for 9 hours in the Istanbul Airport on your layover.

NOW, HERE is where I’m going to put the biggest disclaimer EVER. I would like to take the time to make sure that you, the readers, know this is an anecdote of a PERSONAL hell. I will, to this day, die on the hill that Turkish Airlines is THE BEST airline I have flown on so far, and I have also heard that since my time there, Istanbul Airport has gone through major renovations. I do not want the horror of my personal issues to deter anyone from going to Türkiye, as I myself very much would like to go back.

This was also 2017, when getting through customs alone to just transfer flights took at least an hour, so venturing out into Istanbul proper while we waited for our flight, which was about an hour by bus, was very much out of the question.

Typically when flying, despite having done it many times as a child, I still get pretty anxious, and during this period of my life, Steve had to deal with a lot of anxiety driven freak outs whil we were headed onto and in planes.

This time, I had been anxious and whiny as usual during takeoff and the beginning of the flight to Istanbul, but after the first of the meals, things really started to get bad. My feet began to swell in my shoes, to a point where they ached and I imagined the skin of my socks beginning to sink into the skin. This was when they also began to itch uncontrollably.

“Everyone’s feet swell on airplanes, yours are just a little worse because you’ve had surgeries. You’re just freaking out from flying over the ocean. Relax,” Steve told me, rolling his eyes.

Unable to stop my fidgeting, I ran to the bathroom, pulling down my socks to look at my swollen feet. Covered all over were perfectly round itchy spots. I sat dumbstruck. I had never even had chicken pox. I had no idea what this was. But it was the itchiest thing I ever felt in my life. I scratched my poor ankles and watched in horror as the spots climbed up and up my leg, across my calves and thighs.

“Steve, you’ll never believe this.”

“You’re anxious. Sit down. People get hives from anxiety all the time. They’re going to bring some more food around soon.”

Grumbling to myself, I ate my food and watched as more spots slowly and itchily climbed across the soft skin of my wrists and hands.

At this point, I was very sure this had nothing to do with nerves even though I was very much freaking out, because I very much did not even care if the plane went down anymore. Maybe the impact and salt of the ocean would make this godforsaken itching stop.

Steve didn’t seem to be itching, so that ruled out bugs, and he also still very much did not believe me that I was afflicted with some mysterious itching illness and not just absolutely losing my marbles. I had begun suspecting it was some sort of allergic reaction since I had also begun to feel stuffy and congested, but I had no knowledge of having a history of allergies except a VERY small one to pineapple which resulted in a fuzzy tongue, and pollen, making me a little sneezy.

We arrived at the Istanbul airport for our 9-hour layover. I ran to go wash my itching watering face, only to have my aching olfactory senses be assaulted by at least 3 kiosks vending the finest in Arabic perfumes, and found almost my entire body covered in spots.

Still afraid this was some kind of allergy, I decided to start off easy with just a coffee as we settled in and got our bearings.

The coffee resulted in no allergic reactions, but it was then we discovered Istanbul only offered about 2 hours of free Wi-Fi per person per week. This meant we had only 2 hours of Wi-Fi each in the airport for our 9-hour layover.

Itchy and miserable and the thought of having to conserve my data usage, I went to find food. I figured ice cream was also a safe bet. On a good non-itchy day, this man would have been delightful, but today, covered in spots, I stood there defeatedly with my cone held aloft quietly in front of me, just waiting, as the Turkish ice cream entertainer taunted me with a dollop of chocolate and a series of scooping sorcery tricks for the crowd gathered around us. After being taunted, I licked my ice cream cone watching more hives spread everywhere.

“Burger King maybe,” I said, “Maybe if I eat foods like the ones we serve back home, it won’t be so bad.” I was starting to be very sure of my allergy theory, as I noticed I felt worse and worse every time I ate or drank anything in the airport, except our initial cup of coffee. The only thing Steve was sure of was that I was indeed very unwell, but it all had to do with a broken flight or fight response and lack of coping mechanisms.

That was until I took a bite of my burger and he watched the spots get redder and brighter with each bite.

“Holy sweatshirts, I think you’re right, they really are just appearing across your hands,” he exclaimed.

Finally. From that hour on, I thought back on some Sex and the City scene where Charlotte only drank bottled water in Mexico and took that plan of action. Except this was vacation, so for the rest of my Wi-Fi-less 5 hours in the Istanbul airport, I consumed only Beck’s bottled beer.

It was a very sleepy flight to Tokyo.

On my way home, I picked up the wonderful habit of wearing masks from my Japanese friends, as well as the glorious tradition of purchasing Eki ben, prepackaged lunches available in stations, so armed with these kinds of coping mechanisms and I was able to spend the 9-hour layover in Istanbul free from itchy red spots and watery eyes.

I’m still not sure what exactly I was allergic to in Turkish Airlines food, which by all other accounts was incredible and delicious, though after this trip I began to be much more careful about how my body is reacting to the things I eat while traveling.

I can’t wait to get back to see Istanbul’s new airport, and because honestly, between the slippers and face masks, I don’t think any airline has pampered me as much as Turkish Airlines. That is, of course, after I get some allergy tests done so I can be a more prepared traveler!

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