Here's what you can expect:
You'll want to sleep, but you won't be able to because your bed is now a chair and the chair moves at odd moments.
You'll arrive dying of thirst because you drank little other than the booze, because the booze was free, and free booze obligates us.
You'll arrive fatigued, not because you spent 11 hours sitting in a chair doing nothing, but because the air you were breathing for 11 hours was somewhat deficient in oxygen content and was supplied to you with somewhat deficient air pressure.
You'll arrive constipated and will stay that way for several days. Many hours sitting in a vibrating chair has a way of lulling your bowels to sleep. After the third day of this, your breath really starts to stink from the backlog.
If you take an overnight flight, you'll arrive in Europe when it's way past your bedtime. Unfortunately, it's now time to wake-up because it's morning and you haven't slept more than 10 minutes in your vibrating chair.
You'll arrive feeling you're in a Twilight Zone episode because several weeks at sea and several months on horse and wagon have been replaced by several hours in a longitudinal metalic tube which has materialized in a place where people speak funny, have funny money, and drive on the wrong side of the road. And what's worse, you can't even buy a refreshment to quench your terrible thirst because you haven't figured out the exchange rate yet.
And finally, you'll also arrive feeling somewhat relieved. Because, like me, you'll be greatful that you survived the controller's err, the pilot's mistake, the cargo door that stayed shut, the fire that never started, the air pocket that missed you, and the suitcase that you suspected was ticking below you in the baggage hold waiting for its big moment. You cheated them all. This time.
But you might not even notice any of the above because being your first flight overseas, you're still suffering from Gee-Wizz syndrome.
Enjoy your flight.
An optimist robs himself of the joy of being pleasantly surprised