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Flying Solo
When someone asks me what I want to be when I grow up, I don’t really know how to answer them. I haven’t decided on a career or even a college yet. All I know is that whatever I do, I want to be independent. I want to be able to support myself and do things on my own.
Last year on a cold and dark January morning, cramming my luggage into my dad’s small Saturn , we set off for JFK. It was so early that I think the butterflies in my stomach were still asleep. My alarm clock had been set extra early almost to make my journey start sooner. Often times I look forward to the flight more than the trip itself.
And this flight, I was all on my own.
When you think about it, it’s quite miraculous. You are tens of thousands of feet up in the air, moving hundreds of miles per hour in a metal box; something that seems impossible but is made possible through hard work and brainpower...flying is extraordinary.
Like me ? I want to be extraordinary.
The lengthy walk from terminal B to terminal C was surprisingly liberating. When Gate C18 came into my sight, I glanced at my watch. One hour and fifteen minutes until my plane took off. Perfect. Plenty of time to explore. Resourcefully, I ventured to the food court and helped myself to the breakfast buffet, taking my time and even some extra maple syrup. It felt good to be doing things on my own. It felt good to be independent.
Once I returned to my seat at my gate, I settled in and took in my surroundings, immediately spotting a family with a girl around my age. She looked clueless, following her parents like a lost puppy.
I can do this on my own, I am independent.
Eventually, I boarded my plane. Since my bag had been gate checked, the worry of hoisting my bags up into the overhead bin was absent. With my slipper socks on, my bag of cookies ready and my headphones in, I was prepared for the trip. That’s another thing I want to be when I grow up ? comfortable.
There is nothing like relaxation and that is what I had the rest of the flight. I just chilled in my snuggie until I reached my grandfather in Kansas City. As the pilot announced that we were landing, the butterflies began to wake up. How am I going to find my grandfather?
Breathe. In and out. Slow and steady.
When I regained my composure, I realized that there was nothing to worry about. I was a steady rock in a stream; water and a current of chaos charging past me while I remained solid. As well as the metaphoric current whipping past me, I glanced out the window and realized that the plane was making its descent; with trees and buildings flashing past my window.
Prior to hearing the permission from the pilot, I pressed the power button on my phone.
Nothing.
Being the “worst-case scenario” person that I am, my heart began to beat rapid fire and sweat settled on my sweater? I was in panic mode. How am I going to find my grandfather?, Am I ever going to leave this airport?, Do I have enough money for a payphone?, “How do you use a one? and Do they even exist anymore?
Breathe. In and out. Slow and steady.
As I emerged from the jetway, staying calm cool and collected, I began to search for a payphone. With the first jerk of my head, there he was, my grandfather. All that worrying for nothing.
I can do this on my own, I am independent.
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