Getting Through The Port
It's not always easy, but it's always worth it.
Wanderlust, a word many teenage girls have thrown around to
describe the ever-increasing sensation or desire of getting out and leaving
whatever town they inhabit. Travel is important. In fact, I would say travel is
a necessity. Although that may be true, travel can be expensive and a lot of
travel opportunities aren’t afforded to everyone. As a young woman who spent
majority of her life in Georgia, I too had the constant persistent urge to get
out, but I never had the cash to act on those urges. Since traveling is so
expensive, my family never took vacations. I remember when I received my first
car (this was around the same time I headed out to college) I felt unstoppable.
Like the world was mine to explore. But there was only so far my lime green little
boxy car could take me, and believe me, I pushed that green machine to its
limits. I was road tripping all over the southeast with friends, and even going
as far as San Antonio Texas. I loved mobility, but like with anything else,
getting a taste of travel only made me crave more. At 24 years old, I finally
embarked on the trip of a lifetime to France, and if I can do it, anyone can.
For many first time abroad travelers, like myself, the
planning stage for a big trip usually consists of figuring out what kinds of clothing
to bring, as well as what fun activities and attractions to do upon reaching the
destination. However, the actual plan for getting there can easily become an
after thought. I started planning for my France adventure nine months in
advance. I was reading articles with titles like “how to pack for five weeks,”
and “how to get the most out of your trip in Paris.” I thought I was prepared
for everything. I didn’t think much of my lack of air travel experience. I was
new to the whole flying thing and I had no idea how I would react to a
nine-hour flight once I was actually in the air.
Upon reaching the Airport, a nervous sensation began to spread
making my stomach feel as though it was doing back flips. I blew it off as
nervous excitement, not recognizing the early stages of anxiety. As I rolled my
suitcase over to the baggage checkpoint, the sensation only grew more and more;
still, I ignored my sweaty palms and mild chills. After turning to my mom one
last time to say bye, I then marched making my way through an endless maze of
ropes in order to go through the security checkpoint.
“What do I do
now?” I thought frantically, once I was near the front of the line. Luckily for
me there were plenty of people to observe, so I followed their lead. Shoes off.
Belts off. Everything off. As I placed all of my belongings in a little cubby I
began to panic, hoping, praying I wouldn’t get pulled to the side and searched
like the man in front of me who either was a terrorist or had forgotten to
unpack his razor blades or some other harmless contraband that would make him get
pulled aside by TSA. My mind started to race, begging my brain to remember
everything I had packed. “Next,” the TSA worker shouted at me. I had passed
through the scanner machine without incident, praise God. As I waited for my
cubby and bag to go through the x-ray machine, I continued stressing, hoping I
didn’t pack too big a bottle of contact solution or somehow accidentally stuffed
a rifle or butcher knife in my bag. This was the beginning of my irrational
thoughts.
Once, in the main airport I began heading to my terminal.
Thank goodness I spotted some individuals who I also knew to be on the trip
with me, or I might still be wandering around the massive airport. As I slyly
followed the crowd, probably looking conspicuous, I gaped in awe at the
magnitude of the airport, which looked more like a shopping mall. There were so
many stores. I couldn’t help wondering if people paid for flights just so they
could come shop or eat at the fancy food court. Fighting the urge to do some
shopping myself, I finally made it to my terminal. After waiting for what felt
like hours, they began boarding us. I was very nervous about who I would sit
next to and prayed I would have the window seat. Lucky for me, I sat next to a
very friendly individual and I was tucked away right by the window!
Who knew how shaky airplanes were? During take off, the
plane shook so much I thought for sure it would fall apart before we made it
off the ground. I clutched my seat so tightly the color began to drain from my
fingertips. The side ways tipping back and forth sent me over the edge. I began
praying so earnestly; I felt a spiritual growth occur right then and there.
That’s when the deep thinking began. I started reflecting on faith and how
every individual who flies has to have faith regardless of their belief system.
I thought about how many people were currently floating in the air at that
exact moment. I thought about the clouds and how my plane looked like a ship
floating amongst the clouds. I thought a lot. And as the anxiety and thoughts
about death by turbulence subsided, I began thinking about the wonders of the
sky and the majesty of the huge hunk of metal floating, transporting us miles
and miles across the world. That was all it took. I was hooked. As scary as my
initial ascent into the air was, I was finally traveling. The memories of getting
there is a journey of it’s own, and make up a huge part of the experience.
Without them, my wanderlust wouldn’t be complete.
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| Taken from the Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt. Photo by: Kimberly Chandler |
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