Departure
I was in quite a rush before leaving for the airport. All those ‘little’ jobs that I put off doing, thinking “That’ll only need five minutes or so, I’ll do it on Wednesday before I leave” suddenly weren’t so little. For a start, I’d promised my mum that I’d leave her with a nice, tidy, clean room. Of course, I never thought that that would require only five minutes of work, but I didn’t think it’d need more than an hour or two. And honestly, who wants to spend their last few days in the country cleaning out a room, while they could be out spending time with friends while it was still possible?
Needless to say, the room was left in a fairly horrid state. Mum told me simply to stop making an attempt at it, and just make sure I was completely ready to go, that I had everything I needed. I was all packed and ready, most of my stuff had been so since Sunday, I was so afraid I’d forget something important. Tickets and Passport were in my ‘travellers belt’, hidden below my T-Shirt.
The drive to the airport I was not feeling to good. I felt physically sick. I was trembling. I had quite a voyage ahead of me, and suddenly, I didn’t know if I wanted to go anymore. I checked in, seeming in a dreamworld, the lady behind the counter asking me what seats I would like. Window, of course. She gave me what I later decided was the best seat on the plane. The very last window seat. You only have one person sitting next to you instead of two, so it’s a lot easier to get in and out. You aren’t too far from the toilets. And, best of all, there’s this space behind your seat for if you feel like standing up.
My luggage was checked through, but I somehow forgot about my razor-blades in my hand luggage. Of course, with the US being so anal about such things, I couldn’t take them on the plane. I explained my plight to the lady who’d checked me onto my flight, and she actually took me around the back to where they were loading bags onto the trailers ready to be taken out to the plane, and told me to find my bag and put the blades in it. All I thought at the time was ‘hey, that’s so nice of her’ but when I think back, it’s also pretty damn dangerous. How was she to know that I was only putting razor blades the bag? That it was even my bag? For all she knew, the box could have been filled with drugs and I could have slipped it into an unsuspecting persons bag to be collected later on.
Of course, I did only have razor blade, and it was my bag, so everything was fine.
Some friends came to see me off at the airport, which was very nice. They even brought me some presents, which surprised me, and also created a bit of a problem as I had hardly any room to put anything. Thoughtful little things, such as buzzy-bee boxers, a little kiwi, and of course, the obligatory condom. I treasured them during my time away. The kiwiana, that is, not the condom. That just sat in my wallet, waiting…
When my call finally came, I could hardly believe it. Here, in the small airport room, was everyone I loved and I was about to leave it all. It was all I could do not to cry. Perhaps a tear or two slid down my face as I walked up the stairs to the plane, and paused dramatically for that final look back, but I held the rest in. I did not want this year to start badly.
The girl in front of me, who it turned out was also going on exchange with the same association I was, was however bawling her eyes out. Still, I was shook up enough about it all that I had significant trouble doing up my seatbelt.
After the plane took off, I started to calm down a bit. Much of the nerves slowly loosed down, and I looked out the window taking in every last drop of my country that was flying past. Towns, roads, it was so green. And, when I think back, so empty.
The plane arrived in Auckland after about an hour, where we (the bawling girl in front of me and I) were met by a couple of STS representatives, sporting oh so lovely bright yellow jackets with ‘STUDENT TRAVEL SCHOOLS’ emblazoned on them. We were briefly scolded for not having worn our STS T-Shirts to identify ourselves, but I didn’t see the big deal. The T-Shirts were gay, and it’s not like we couldn’t see our guides anyways. But, grudgingly, we put them on.
In Auckland airport I met the other thirty or so students about to wing their way to some foreign nation for a year. The atmosphere was buzzing with emotions. Excitement, nervousness, fear, homesickness, it made for a bit of awkwardness coupled with a general recognition by everyone of everyone as being in some way the same.
When we went to get on the plane, I noticed in front of me this huge guy in a wheelchair. My only thought was “oh god, he’s going to be next to me I know it” When I was allocated my seat (that great window seat at the back) I was told that the one next to it had already been reserved, it just made logical sense that someone as big as him would want to sit near the back where there are fewer people to annoy. I was not looking forward to it. Especially as we started making our way down the plane, people slowly branching off to their various seats, yet still the fat guy was in front of me, moving down towards the back. I prepared myself for the worst.
As luck would have it, he sat three rows in front of me. And I was damn glad. After seeing him, I understood why some airlines are starting to charge grossly overweight people for two seats. He was overflowing into the next seat. Had he been next to me, I would have spent the entire time squashed up against the wall.
The guys who was next to me, in the end, was a frequent commuter between the US and NZ, who had long before recognised the benefits of the back seats.
With the usual small talk made to people sitting next to you, more to calm my nerves than anything else, I buckled myself in. I had never seen a plane as big as this, it was huge. It honestly seemed like a house to me. So many people in one compartment…
The pilot came on the speakers, and introducing himself, and said that we’d be taking off in just a few minutes. Meanwhile, the air hostesses performed the safety routine for us, to which I paid much attention. I was not going to not know what to do should something go wrong. My heart was beating like crazy.
As we began taxi-ing out to the runway, my nerves was balled up so tight that I once again thought I was going to be ill. The plane began to accelerate down the runway, it’s speed showing up on the in-flight entertainment screen. I watched the slowly increasing numbers… and the the jumping numbers. Suddenly, we were going at over 350kph.. I looked out the window to see the scenery flashing past.
The pressure kicked in, and a huge grin swept over my face. My nerves unbundled themselves as adrenaline surged through my body. The plane rose up into the sky… and I was on my way.
First stop: America.
I’m sorry, I can’t help laughing about how dramatically cheesy I just wrote that… anticlimax I know. Thing is, that is exactly how it happened… I didn’t alter details to make it sound better. It’s all in the language used 
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Adey Ben, 2 months without a post is terrible. Get moving!!!!!
yojoe What about Missile Pops?
Shannon OMG. Check it out… http://mudhead.uottawa.ca/~pet e/beard.html
Ben A singular beer won’t quite cut it. But you’re on the right track…
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Yay buzzy bee boxers! Do you still have them?
Of course.. two pairs!
Had already bought one before I left… but hey