It has been such a wild ride today. After waking up at 2 am and contemplating the universe, my parents and I hopped into mama’s car and made our way down to the airport. Everything was still pitch black outside and the air was quiet and tired. As we drove we passed by landmarks that were barren that I was used to seeing full. The conversation between the three of us was gentle and pleasant as we waited for my departure.
Eventually we found ourselves standing in the Delta Airlines check-in line to drop off my baggage and then eventually in front of the TSA security checkpoint. To me the checkpoint was a threshold and crossing it meant I would have to learn how to be dramatically more independent and self sufficient. To my mother the checkpoint was a behemoth, ready to swallow me whole while she had to stand helpless to the event. We stood there for a moment or so, hugging and say our good byes and our I Love Yous. I felt bad having to leave mom as she waved goodbye to me, weeping and seeking refuge in my father’s arms, but eventually the Band-Aid had to come off.
Granted, I did not walk through nonchalant and unaffected. As I turned the corner, moving further and further away from them, my throat clenched as I tried to hold back the emotions I was experiencing. Even though my parents and I don’t get along all the time (especially with politics) I am really going to miss them. Of course I am going to enjoy my time abroad immensely, but for sure they will be missed.
So, the flight leg of my flight went well. I sat on an aisle seat, my neighbors were courteous and kind and there were two toddlers around to keep me entertained. However, once I got off my first flight, that’s when things went… not as planned.
The original plan was to land, grab my bags, check-in, and then relax in luxury in Delta Sky Club for the rest of my 13 hour layover. Sounds nice, right? I thought so. LA had different plans though. Once I got off of my flight I was instructed to grab my bags and make my way to Terminal 3 to check in. Easy enough, right? So I grab my bags and make the mile long trek down to a deserted Virgin Australia Check-in desk in Terminal 3. As it turns out, their check-in doesn’t open until 3:30 in the afternoon. 3:30…. it was 10:30…
Some friendly security guards pointed out a little area to wait in the interim for the next 6 hours while I waited. I made my way over to the International terminal, sat down to a tuna sandwich, and before you know it a sea of protestors flood the terminal to protest the Immigration ban exec. orders that our Commander in Chief made. The protests lasted for several hours as they marched in circles around the terminal and then in the baggage claim area. Eventually I was able to check in my bags and proceed to the terminal ( that was almost five hours ago and I still don’t know which gate I’m going to…. ha…).
I am not quite as tired as I was expecting to be. By the time my light takes off I will have been awake for a full 24hrs, but here I am and the tired I feel now is the same tired I feel after spending 8 hrs at the customer service desk at Publix. Hopefully I’ll find out my terminal soon, but we’ll see.
Until Next Time…