The machine was an Airbus A 340. I had a seat on the right side, right next to the aisle. My right hand side neighbour was an old man who continously opened and closed his book as if he wouldn't really read it, but I'll come back to that later.
The safety instructions weren't presented by the stewardesses but were screened on monitors that were installed throughout the machine. These monitors were never turned off, they would always display information about the flight, the news or a movie. It seems that airlines finally took into account that (switched on) TV sets have long surpassed the transition from being functional to decorative in nearly every household and decided to add them to their standard interior design. I cannot say that I disliked this fact. On the contrary, it made me feel more at home and complemented the meals.
I like airplane bathrooms. They are fine examples of the skillful and economic use of engineering crafts. Besides that, they are lit by the most unique light. I guess it has something to do with the chrome design and the fact that there is just one small neon light source, but that still does not explain all of the magic of airplane bathrooms' lighting. My skin takes on colours I have never seen before in these cabins. This, a certain disinfected smell and the vacuum toilet are what makes my flight experience complete. If I ever should have any doubts about really being on an airplane, I go to the bathroom.
This also held true with the flight LH 422 to Boston. I found myself in the bathroom looking at my face in the mirror after having flushed the toilet at least three times while contemplating the differences of the airplane's autopilot and that what makes me drift with the masses. Some turbulences startled me, and a look at my wristwatch told me that I had been standing in the bathroom for about twenty minutes. I quickly washed my hands and rushed back to my seat. A little sign above my head prompted me to fasten my seat belts, and so I did as I was told.