Flight

I am currently sitting in the SFO airport, eating the most expensive taco salad I'll likely ever cross paths with. While it did cross my mind that I shouldn't stuff myself with Mexican food directly before a 14 hour flight, Andalés was calling my name this evening. Now all I can do is, as they say, let go and let God. 

Prepping for the flight was a bit more cryptic than I anticipated. A mid-morning conversation with my brother, his girlfriend, and my parents took an unfortunate left turn to a discussion of recent international plane crashes, which is never uplifting, much less when you are about to take a long international flight. 

As I attempted to shake off the negative vibes beginning to sneak over me, further conversations with various people throughout the day took similar directions. Warranted and legitimate advice regarding cautions a single traveler should take (always followed by the cryptic sentiment of "Just in case...") caused a few gray clouds to appear over the cheerful oblivion that I had been previously experiencing. I began to wonder: what if the person picking me up is going to abduct me? I don't have a Liam Neeson-character in my family to travel internationally and kill everyone in their wake until I am rescued. It was an abrupt awakening that the world is not full of the kind, trustworthy people I am used to being surrounded by, and I only have myself to depend on for safety. Yikes. 

I blinked and suddenly it was time to go. I packed the car, said goodbye to my mom, and set off to the San Francisco airport with my dad. On the drive my dad mentioned, "Half of me thinks this will be a great adventure for you, and my other half wonders why you are making this trip." I guess I feel the same way. While I don't feel ready to settle down, the thought of leaving my dog in the States causes me to feel sentimental and want to immediately turn back around. I suppose I won't know if the trip will be worth it until I'm living there. I recognized the same apprehensive reservations I felt when going to college for the first time, which ended up being exactly the place I needed to be, so that gave me a bit of reassurance. 

Despite my pre-flight jitters,  the Universe seems to be giving me every sign possible to tell me this is the right move. My suitcase was exactly 50 pounds - the weight limit. My flight was exactly the route I was hoping to get. My flat is exactly the right price, and with two great flat mates. My job hunt landed me a great-paying position right next to the bus stop in Sydney, and will allow me to start the day after I arrive. It seems as if canceling the trip now would be rudely turning a cold shoulder to the Universe's generosity. 

Luckily for me I have learned from previous travel mistakes and have been able to navigate the San Francsico airport smoothly and successfully. A few years ago I flew alone to London and was too inexperienced a traveler to realize that when no one was sitting in front of the assigned gate, a change was probably made in the itinerary. I ended up missing the flight and had to re-schedule (which actually ended up scoring me a better route). This time around, I kept an eager ear out for announcements, and sure enough my gate was changed and I coolly scooted over a few yards, feeling smug with experience. 

Likewise, when I flew to Costa Rica a year and a half ago my bag was several pounds over the limit, forcing me to take items out one by one and re-weigh the bag enough times to where the piercing glares of the passengers stuck in line caused the applicable employee to let me through (my bag never quite touched down at 50 lbs). This time, however, I had the wisdom to weigh my suitcase beforehand and ditch the necessary casualties prior to departing for the airport. It was quite a relief. 

I am being called to board my plane. I am noticing with dismay that it's boarding an hour before liftoff- meaning my 14 hour flight to Auckland will be extended to 15 hours stuck on the plane. See you on the other side!