Wow, what a trip. Incredible. I wouldn’t have believed it if it didn’t just happen.
So Saturday I get to the airport only to find out that my flight to Amsterdam is cancelled. Thankfully, I was immediately rerouted through Atlanta and Paris, due to arrive home at around 11:45 Sunday morning. I found the situation rather ironically typical. A two-hour drive to get to the airport three hours in advance after hours of meticulous packing to be sure the baggage was underweight and two nights of restless sleep. And did I panic? I think not. I was unusually calm about it all. In fact, I found it rather humorous. It was almost a typical “I’ll be home for Christmas…not” kind of story. Freshman year of college, first time flying alone, parents are in another country, and I’m rerouted through Paris (which only my family will know the horrors behind). Oh yeah, I was smiling. I’m telling you, I was far more worried about my luggage being over the weight restrictions and my parents’ reaction to the news than I was about the flight being cancelled.
The interesting thing is, major events don’t faze me in the least. It’s all the teensy, tiny issues that cause me to stress out and eventually break. For example, I’ll tell people I’m afraid of heights, but to be more specific, it’s the falling part that I’m afraid of... Along with the kersplat at the end, but that’s beside the point. The dark has no hold on me, I can be enveloped in it and not be afraid. It’s the things IN the dark that get to me. With roller coasters, it’s more the “my world just got yanked out from under me” feeling than it is the speed. While we’re on the topic of fears, excruciatingly loud and very sudden noises terrify me. I only fear balloons because of their potential for evil. Give me a horror movie like Evil Dead or some zombie movie over The Ring any day. Wow, severely off topic. Back on track.
Airplanes. Take off kills me every time. Touchdown is probably my favorite part of the whole flight, besides the flying itself. The part that really gets to me is the ear popping business. I’m ok with my ears popping in the plane as long as they pop back once the flight’s over. I got really, really stressed out last time we came to the states together and the main issue that irked me to my breaking point was that my ears hadn’t popped. There was just this ringing and I couldn’t hear what anyone said to me and I couldn’t feel my ears. See? Details. With major events such as moving from home, going to a whole new environment, and airline troubles, I’m more worried about how my parents will react. Off topic again.
Where was I? Ah yes, flight got cancelled and I was almost laughing while trying to convince the people who brought me to the airport that I was going to be just fine. I ended up staying the night at an elder’s house with a friend of mine. Did I know these people? Nope. Never met them before in my life. Did things work out? They most certainly did. The people were especially nice and I was able to get a good night’s rest.
“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.” ~ Romans 8:28
Do you believe it? I do.
Had it not been the Lord who was on our side... ~ Psalms 124
So, I get up at about 6:30 Sunday morning and head over to the airport about an hour later. I get checked in and past security without any difficulty. I grab a sandwich, find my gate, and chill for a good 2 hours (DS came in handy). Guess what! My flight was delayed. Not to worry though, it was only delayed about 20 minutes. I make it to Atlanta a little late, but still manage to navigate between terminals and get to my Paris flight on time. In fact, it was the last call for the flight. Here’s the fun part. Because they rerouted my cancelled flight, I’m placed in business class on this flight. Having never flown anything higher than economy, I think, “Ok, I’ve always wanted to sit up here.” My seat is in the very second row. I sit down and go, “Whoa … this is actually pretty comfy.” I then discover business class has a full 3 course meal with more than two options. My first thought? “They have MENUS?!?! :O ” I place my bag on the floor and still have plenty of room to stretch my legs. In fact, I can’t even reach the seat in front of me without leaning over and reaching for it. I’m not used to so much space. They had mini water bottles, hot towels, assorted nuts (pecans and cashews), actual glass drinking glasses, and they had real silverware with two forks and three different knives. When dinner came along, I had tomato and basil soup, salad, steak, and ice cream for dessert. Now that I think about it, I feel more like the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Anyway, if you thought it couldn’t get any better, guess what one of the movie options on the individual TV screen was.
*allows a moment for suspense*
Inception. ^_^
*continues reciting the adventure*
They served a breakfast that consisted of cereal, yogurt, fruit, croissants, and orange juice. The cereal left much to be desired, but the croissants were actually pretty good. Just as we were starting to descend, the man who sat beside me the entire flight decided to start a conversation. Turns out, he was on his way to Germany. He had a flight to Amsterdam that was cancelled the day before and they rerouted him through Paris.
Intrigued yet? He certainly was with my end of the conversation.
Anyway, the plane landed and I made my way to the last connecting flight on my list. The Paris airport was a little harder to navigate, only because the gate on my ticket said 2E and the gate they were directing me to was E28. Either way, I ended up at the right gate, but not before having to pass anther security check. The lady nailed me for having a water bottle from the last flight, but not for having a sandwich. Logically, there shouldn’t be that much of a difference between deadliness, or lack thereof. *shrugs* Then again, I tend to question a lot of people’s logic. I could just be really tired… I mean, have you noticed how many times I’ve gotten sidetracked from the tale? Yeah. Go figure.
Security check, there we are. I was happy to hear Russian again, even if it was only the people in line in front of me going on the same flight. It’s only at the gate does Paris start looking familiar. Truth be told, the only thing I can remember about Paris from previous trips is a lot of running and watching our plane take off without us… after they held it for us. Good times.
Back to the story. I got on the plane, but there didn’t seem to be very many people on it. They eventually filtered in, but there were still plenty of open seats. This was the roughest flight I had, solely because it was a never-ending cycle of drifting off to sleep and waking up a few seconds later. I kind of regretted then that I didn’t even try to get any rest on the flight before. Probably not the smartest move I made that day.
Rough flight, but I only remember bits and pieces of it. I think we sat in the airplane for over an hour waiting for the snow to let up before we could take off. I just remember being interrupted by the flight attendant and the guy in the window seat: washcloth, bathroom, breakfast, and luggage. I couldn’t really relax either cause the guy who sat behind me had long legs. As anyone knows, economy class and long legs don’t mix well for anyone. I think the main issue was that my mind pretty much just turned off for the rest of the flight. I’m fairly good at being able to be fully awake and alert when the time calls for it, after that my mind goes numb. Take the Acts final, for example. I almost fell asleep before the test, but during the test I was wide-awake. Course… maybe the candy and cookies had a little help in that. After the test though, I was totally out of it...
Back on track. I was out of it for that flight. I guess my mind thought its job was done, considering this was the last flight I had to worry about. By the time we landed, I had enough energy back to make it past the last stretch. -5 Celsius cold and snow galore greeted me as I got off the plane and rode the bus to the terminal. The very last obstacle was the agent behind the passport/visa counter. That was a little weird, but I made it through. You think the adventure’s over? Not hardly. I get out and look around for any sign of my mother. Not there. I wait. Then I get the brilliant idea to go over to another terminal. What I was not aware of were the various changes made to the airport while I’ve been gone. Apparently, all the arrivals are located in the terminal directly opposite from the main terminal. Thinking my mother would go to the main terminal first, I brave the snow and tote my luggage through the vast parking lot to I know what you’re thinking: “Brave the snow? But you’re from there. You ‘re used to snow and ice.” Technically, yes, I am. But I’m used to facing the snow wearing a lot more than jeans, tennis shoes, a jersey over a long sleeved shirt, and a jacket made more for looks than practicality.
So yes, I was cold. And tired. And sore by the time I got to the other side. What should I find but that departures now flood the area where arrivals once stood. Realizing that was probably the worst move to make, I turned around and went back. No working phone to call my parents, no national currency, no free internet access, and no way I’m going out in the cold again without a decent plan. What did I do while I waited for my parents to come find me? Read the Bible and wrote this post.
If you’re reading this: A. my parents found me and brought me home, B. I somehow managed to hack into the airport wifi, or C. someone stole my computer yet was nice enough to post this for me. Options A and B are looking pretty good right now.
“You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger.” ;)
