The First Step
- Sasha Albrecht
- Jan 5, 2016
- 5 min read
I couldn't sleep. I was sitting on a bed in a hotel, listening to the steady snoring of my mom. I was anxious and excited, but above all completely restless. The year had passed in a flash, as time does when you're trying to prepare for something important. It was difficult to believe that I was actually going --- that I was actually leaving the country. Six months didn't feel like it would be long enough, but even if it went by quickly, it was better than never going at all.
I perched myself on the counter with my feet in the sink while I tried to fix my hair. My mom and I had decided that we ought to stay at a hotel the night before my flight because of the precarious driving conditions. Oregonians from the Willamette Valley are known for their inability to drive in snowy conditions, and the weather had been uncharacteristically cold for the entire week leading up to my flight. Having grown up in South Dakota, my mom wasn't horrible at navigating in crappy conditions, but she knew better than to trust the other drivers on the road.
So here we were. It seemed sort of wrong to be spending my last night in the United States in a place that I'd never been. I'd said my goodbyes to friends and family in the previous days, given the dogs hugs goodbye, and hauled the two pieces of luggage that would get me through the following six months out to the car.
My flight was at 6 am, and because it was technically international, we'd planned on arriving at 4 am. However, when the airport shuttle dropped us off at departures, it was immediately apparent that we could've waited another hour. Everything was still dark, and there were people scattered throughout the airport sleeping on top of their luggage.
Check-in opened at 5, so we waited in relative silence until it was time to queue up and check my bag. From there, we found an empty table in the food court (it was easy, everything was still closed) and quietly talked for about another half an hour or so, until the security check opened.
It was surreal, sitting across from my mother, recognizing that this was the last time we'd be sitting together like that until the end of July. Saying goodbye was definitely emotional, but I tried not to tear up too much --- the last thing the too of us needed was a blubbering, tearful goodbye at the security check; I was already conflicted enough.
Security finally opened, and my mom joined me in the queue. I was surprised at how quickly I reached the front of line, and before I could register what was happening, I'd given my mom a hurried hug goodbye and was emptying my electronics in the security bin.
The rest of the morning passed in the an exhausted blur. I texted my mom from the terminal until it was time to board the plane, then said one last goodbye before switching my phone into airplane mode for take-off.
The first flight to Chicago passed in the blink of an eye --- mostly due to the fact that I fell asleep the moment we were in the air, and didn't wake up until we were over the massive city. Having never been to Chicago, I gawked awkwardly out the window, completely in awe of how massive the Lake Michigan was.
We landed around 10 am, and I had 8 hours to kill before it would be time to board my flight to Heathrow. I knew that many of the other USAC student would be there for that flight, but I was sure that the majority of them wouldn't be arriving until closer to departure, so I wandered aimlessly around the airport, chatted nervously with my mom on the phone and ate some lunch before finally finding my way to the international departures.
I have to admit, for whatever reason, I had expected going through customs to be a lot worse. Apparently, the US doesn't particularly care what you leave with, but I'm sure it will be a mess when I arrive back at home. It only took half an hour or so to get through the passport check and security, and I still had an entire 2 hours to kill before boarding. I exchanged all of the American money that I'd brought with me, found the gate from which I'd depart, and tried to get comfortable.
I talked on the phone a bit more (knowing that before long, I wouldn't be able to call anyone at home), wrote in my journal, and camped out next to the charging station so my phone would have a full battery before I left. I noticed a large group of my future classmates congregating near the terminal --- a few of them were wearing the USAC shirts (I'd forgotten mine at home), so after my phone had sufficient battery, I walked over to join the group. Everyone seemed to be just as nervous and excited as I was, so I quietly listened to them chatter, occasionally adding a remark or two to their conversation.
Finally: It was time to board, and we all mobbed toward the gate excitedly. When the flight attendant scanned my ticket, she informed me that my seat had been changed. After talking to the woman at the boarding desk, I ecstatically rejoined the line: my ticket had, for some reason, been upgraded.
I quickly found my seat on the plane. I couldn't believe my luck: the chairs were bigger and much more comfortable than the ones in economy, and I had a complementary package of toiletries resting on my seat. Before take-off, the flight attendant gave everyone champagne, and I settled in to a movie while I sipped on the bubbly drink. I couldn't wait to tell my mom about my good fortune.
After two movies, dinner, and two (maybe three) individual-sized bottles of wine, I fell into a restless sleep. When I woke up, we were flying over Ireland, preparing to land. We landed in London, and I couldn't properly process the fact that I was no longer in the US. We had to pass through security upon arriving, and I groggily pulled apart my carry on (again) before being able to enter the rest of the airport.
Our gate wasn't going to be announced until close to a half-an hour to our departure, but I was too tired to really worry. I joined the rest of the USAC students sitting near one of the departure screens, trying to make conversation. Like me, however, everyone was exhausted, so I resigned myself to silence.
When our gate was finally announced, we were disappointed. We only had a half an hour to reach our gate, and we'd have to take a train to reach it. Everyone jumped to their feet and rushed toward the gate. The panic was for nothing though; when we arrived, the gates still hadn't even opened yet, and everyone was queued up outside with their luggage, waiting to depart.
By the time we were finally seated on the plane, I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. I managed to stay awake only long enough to watch the ground fall away as the plane departed before closing my eyes and falling asleep.
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