I've always disliked flying, but I've always loved everything surrounding it; namely airports.
I remember that surreal feeling, being at the airport, knowing that it was coming. My moment to get on the plane, pursue my dream, go to the city I've longed to see for years. It was such an abstract idea. It felt like a line I'd been rehearsing for a play til now. I packed six month's worth of my life into three whole bags, only two of which actually counted as the kind of bags for traveling: the biggest rolling suitcase you've ever seen in your life and the packing backpack I'd live out of for two of those months. Carefully packed...or so I thought.
I remember the fear striking as I checked in for my flight, and my giant rolling suitcase was something nasty like six pounds over the limit. Instantly anxiety-drowned, I angrily pulled my suitcase to the side of the counter, and knelt down to tear things out of it. I laugh now to think that I actually believed the minutes would count. Shampoo would have to be purchased there. I could live without peanut butter. Back down just enough weight to move this whole process forward. Off to a great start.
The security line was ages long, so then it was time for goodbyes. It was maybe stupid of me to have a whole hoard of people see me off...but I'd secretly wished even more of them were there. The important ones, you know. I hugged everyone several times, I don't remember many specifics, it's mostly only a blur of tears. However I can still feel the ache of knowing I wouldn't see them all for six months. One of the more bittersweet moments of my life.
I stood in the weaving line of fellow travelers, a weeping mess, wiping my nose on my sleeve; sniffling. People around me stared. It felt like I was at a funeral and I was the only one who actually cared. Finally I had to tell my family to just leave, because the sight of them only made me continue to cry. I knew that once I was through security, and I was stuck in this...I'd be fine.
Flash forward to Charles de Gaulle. Landing there felt all too like a sham. Sure they told us over the intercom we were in Paris...but surely it was a hoax. Also, when you get off the plane it looks nothing like you imagine, so even more so you could be in Russia for all you know. The exit leads you immediately down a flight of stairs, right onto the runway. Great. This is how they do it here?
I was already wimpy at using my french, when a traffic control guy, maybe even younger than me babbled something at me in french. I couldn't even think of how to respond to pretend as if I'd only not heard him - ignoring my terrible comprehension. I probably blurted something so simple as "Ici?" and pointed at the boxy vehicle packed with people. I reluctantly boarded, and it drove us sardines to the main airport. I remember going to baggage claim. It looked like a joke, and yet it felt like I'd been there before. Once I got my reduced suitcase, I followed the current of people, thankfully that worked as there were little signs. At the exit, I found my pen-pal, Amber Korneliussen for our long awaited real life meeting.
I remember re-packing countless times my last night in Paris. Excited and in disbelief of my supposed return home. They told me that place still existed, home, but I felt like it'd be an over-the-top version of candid camera; even more painful than the original, in which America no longer existed and my family was a figment of my imagination. I packed and re-packed, into the wee hours of the morning, despite needing to wake up...in the wee hours of the morning. It didn't even phase me to think that someday I'd miss Paris. I missed it already, but I missed my family more. My best friends. I slept in the clothes I planned to wear on the plane.
My heart races now to think of it. The feeling's both a bad and a good feeling. It feels kind of like a nervousness combined with an adrenaline, sprinkled with an excitement, and then watered down by an unattainability. I categorize it as an ache because I know that I can't ever have these moments back. I can never live them to the vivid fullness of they first occurred.
That night, I'd parted with my now even dearer Amber, only to see her again whenever the dear Lord should bless us so. My now dear Carrie was accompanying me to the airport. I think I told her we'd pretend like it was nothing til the moment it had to be, or maybe it just happened that way.
(As a dry aside, CDG is far easier to fly into than out of - fyi, plan extra time for being lost and confused.)
Once we finally found my correct line, and Carrie and I said our goodbyes, I did my best attempt not to go into hysterics and change my mind about going home...successfully. It helped that I told her she didn't have to wait while I waited in line. Cut the cord.
Once through all the security, just waiting to board...I went to the Relay. I bought what would be my last pain au chocolat in Paris. I felt a bit melancholy. There was a long journey ahead, and again it was bittersweet - but I didn't think about the bitter. I only saw the daunting task that is spending seemingly endless hours in airports and airplanes until you can feel at ease again, in a place you haven't been for six months...
I sat in a far wing of the Toronto airport, my back in great pain from the combination of the heavy packing backpack that I managed to float by as a carry-on and my side-bag with my laptop in it. I sat for six hours. The first, oh, three seemed to nearly fly by. Partially because I went through customs first. As I stood in that line, I held back tears several times at the thought of returning to my country. I've never been so darn patriotic in my life.
The bits of that last plane ride are more strong in my mind. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen, the sunset and clouds out the window. It distracted me from the cracker-jack size of our plane. I switched seats to watch it. I grew increasingly excited knowing that these types of plane rides seemed insanely short in comparison to a transatlantic. In a matter of what felt like no time the pilot announced our upcoming descent to Minneapolis. The words brought tears to my eyes.
The clouds were huge and lit-up. I wish I could picture it more accurately in my memory now, but what's stronger is the rest. Just as it'd been when I returned from Denver two summers before, we circled the city as part of our descent. As I laid eyes on that familiar cityscape, I couldn't help myself. I broke into sobs. Lucky for me the surrounding seats were empty, because it was hitting me. There was snot. I don't know if I've ever been so happy to see a single place in my life. My heart stopped - I was taken aback. Home!
Knowing my family was there to receive me, I decided first to stop into the bathroom. I didn't want to have to pee from the moment I saw them til the moment I went to sleep!
I remember the pure exhilaration that hit me as I walked down the empty halls of MSP with the other weary travelers. I thought, "if only they knew how excited I am; that I haven't seen my family in six months and that they were there WAITING for me!" Not that I was walking that fast, but as the reality that I was about to see my family hit me, I started hyperventilating.
I think my favorite part of the MSP airport is that the exit to the baggage terminal is down an escalator. I stood on that escalator, tears welling in my eyes, tapping my foot. As the next level down came into view and I saw that, indeed, familiar faces awaited, a smile broke onto my nervous face. I ran through the sliding doors and as I attacked my sister who was the closest person, I began to cry hysterically. It probably wasn't a pretty moment for me, but I think it will forever be one of the fondest moments of my entire life. It was beautiful.
After subsequently hugging my brother, he told me that my best friend and my cousin were down the other end looking for me. As I walked that way, making their figures out in the distance, I began to jog, then throwing my side-bag (with computer in it) on the ground, yelling "I'm having an epic airport moment!" I ran towards them.
I'd spend six months away, just to have a moment like that again. I felt out of my skin for days; in a dreamland. That return will always be one of my favorite memories of my life. In an airport.
