Airports to Home
It’s funny. The title of this post is “Airports to Home”. But the location and meaning of “home” has changed several times, seamlessly. Home is a bed in a living room, a room on a cruise ship, the room my cousin let my borrow, etc. Place to sleep, don’t have to worry about my things while I’m gone, I feel safe? Then it’s “home” for now.
Back to the topic now.
I looked out the window as the plane was leaving Bucharest. The sun was rising, it was beautiful. But I was deeply saddened. I would miss my family. I would miss the food, and the sounds and the people and the open fields of wild flowers.
Layover in Warsaw, Poland. Spoke to a Romanian grandmother and her nephew, who were on their way back to Canada from vacation in Romania. I enjoyed hearing someone speak in Romanian. I knew this would most likely be the last person I’d get to speak to, besides my family, in Romanian.
Yet again my gate was changed. I find it funny that I’m always the one who seems to have something unknown about their flight. Found the new gate, and tried to find a plug to recharge my music player. A nice elderly couple was speaking in German. The woman was trying to find a plug as well. Battery was nearly full, so I motioned to her. She began speaking to me in German, and I assumed she asked about the plug, so I said Yea. She kept on speaking and I said your welcome. At least that’s what I thought I should say based upon what she seemed to be saying in German. She began to speak quickly and I said I was sorry, I didn’t speak German. I moved and let her plug in the phone, smiled and walked away.
There was a little boy, a toddler, running around happily. I and the others sitting near him smiled and waved hello to him. He’d smile and stare, then go back to running around some more as his parents watched close by.
Landed in Chicago. I thought the airport was really nice. I enjoyed the light system overhead in one area. I saw a woman taking a photograph. My battery had died, and regardless, I’d been traveling for over 24 hrs, and just wanted to sit in front of my gate and rest. I found my gate and sat there. Two handsome young sailors dressed in uniform sat near a plug. The only one I could spot nearby. A young girl came and they began to chat. Outside a bad thunderstorm was occurring, and it caused our flight to be delayed on 2 separate occasions, by 2 hrs or so. While I waited to board the plane, a little boy, maybe 4 or 5, was loudly laughing and playing. He began speaking a passenger, only, it wasn’t in English. Maybe Polish? I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep in a place I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed. He came to me and I made him laugh, I told his parents he was cute. Sometimes, having someone make you smile by their silliness and sheer enjoyment of being alive, is exactly what you need. In this case, it was what I needed.
We boarded the flight. I feel asleep, then woke suddenly. I looked out the window, then heard that we were still at the airport, we hadn’t been able to lift off yet, and had been there for nearly an hour. Apparently since multiple flights had been delayed due to the weather, we had to wait till we could leave as well. Though being on a runway for so long didn’t seem to be something the pilot was comfortable with.
When I arrived in FL, it was so refreshing. I saw my sister and was very happy to hug her and the tiny baby growing in her belly. I liked speaking in Spanish on our way there, even if certain words I used from other languages. It felt easier than the harshness that English seemed to have when I spoke it. Whenever I come back, it takes a bit to get used to not speaking a romance language. I had felt bad though, they’d had to stay up that night late to pick me up. Got home around 2 or 3 a.m., had been traveling for 30some hours.
This post may seem long and boring to some. However, I think the journey to a destination is a story as well, it’s important. Shows it’s not always what you’d expect it to be. It includes long lines and gate changes, sometimes kindness, sometimes people you have a random conversation with, to those who you still speak to even months after you meet them, etc.