My day began at 5:30 A.M. I jumped out of bed after a fitful night of sleep and hurried to get ready to go. At 6 I left International Village and got on the Orange Line to go to the airport. This is a normal routine, nothing special or weird about it, until I arrived at the stop to switch to the Blue Line that would take me to the airport. Apparently it was closed for some reason, and instead they were providing shuttle buses to the next stop. Turned out not to be too much of a problem, caused a little worry, but eventually I made it to the airport and boarded my plane to Philadelphia. The highlight here was some man passing by with light up wheels on his luggage like little kids sometimes have on their shoes. He turned out to be the pilot. Awesome!
I “slept” for the entirety of that flight. I arrived in Philadelphia at about 10, and had 3 and a half hours to chill before my next flight. I wandered around some, and then found my way into a bookstore. There I picked up A Thousand Splendid Suns. I read a little before finding lunch, and then hunkered down to read and wait for my flight. The highlight of my time here was being pulled from my book by some faintly familiar sound. Music had been playing in the airport in the background the whole time, but somehow this was different. I listened more intently to discover with great joy that they were playing the opening act of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Awesome! Anywho, I waited. And waited. And waited. And then waited some more. And then they tell us that the flight is about a half hour delayed, so I wait even more still. At this point panic makes a brief appearance. I need to be on that flight leaving Phoenix at 6. I need to be back in Alaska at 10 tonight. I need to see my family. I can’t explain this fully; I wasn’t every really home sick or anything during my first semester. For the most part I had a great time there, called home every so often, and thought nothing of it. But this feeling of readiness has been growing ever stronger in my last couple weeks here. It is time to go home. This delay could NOT make me miss my connecting flight. And so when the time finally came to board, I did so praying that the process would be quick, that we would be in air soon, and that we would make it to Phoenix before that looming 6 o’clock deadline.
This five-hour flight passed rather quickly as I read my new book almost in it’s entirety. When the time finally came to land and exit, I hurried to find my next gate (at a different terminal of course) and arrived as they were making a “last and final call for all passengers on flight 138 to Anchorage, Alaska.” Last call. A flustered Emily approached the ticket counter, handed her ticket to the attendant who could clearly read the anxiety in her face and was kind enough to ask if everything was all right. Her reply: I just need to go home.
I boarded and found my seat. Shaken by what force I honestly don’t know, but unbelievably relieved to be on the final leg of my journey. I finished my book (which everyone should read by the way, great book) and then wrote this. I have 2 hours and 14 minutes remaining until we land. Until I am home. And I have never been looking forward to anything in my entire life more than this.
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