~Packing. Moving out of my dorm room was probably one of the hardest things I've had to do all year. Forget mid-terms and finals. Packing everything you own away or discarding it is difficult. What needs to be taken? What can be thrown out? And at the end of the day... how do I make it all fit? That's where the biggest problem came in.
For those of you who didn't know, I went out there with my dad. He packed for one day's worth of clothes and toiletries. Everything else he packed was mine. So, basically, I had an extra bag and a half. The part that I over-looked, however, was that I wasn't going to have those bags on the way back. Yeah. Tremendous mistake on my part.
I thought packing was going to be easier than it was, and since I was moving on the LAST day, most of my friends had already moved out. Essentially, I was alone and way in over my head. My flight was at noon and I hadn't gotten any sleep the day before due to nervous-ness (yeah, I was a little scared about going home). I ended up missing my flight, not eating until 1, and passing out a couple of times on my old suitemate's bed. I also ended up spending $300 to ship 3 huge boxes home that contained stuff that couldn't go with me on the plane.
~Regret. While I currently don't have any real regrets in life, the day I had to pack was the first time I ever really questioned my move to New York. I mean, I obviously spent a lot of time thinking about it... but it was still one of those things. New York? Fuck yeah! I'm not going to lie, living so far from home was really hard. Knowing nobody was hard. Being from an entirely different culture was hard. Trying to pack to send things thousands of miles away was about as symbolic as it was difficult. It showed that I couldn't take the easy way.
If I had lived closer to home, my parents would have been able to come up in the big SUV (assuming they wanted to spend all the money bringing that gas-guzzler), pack all my stuff haphazardly, and drive me on home. But no. I decided to take the hard way. If I had lived closer to home, I probably would have known at least somebody at the school previously, and if not, it would have still been possible for me to visit friends on Spring Break or something. But no. New York was a decision to choose the unknown, no matter how difficult.
~Delta. The airport is a silly place. Millions of people scurrying around trying to go somewhere, do something. Yelling, screaming, laughing, crying. You'll see it all at the airport. I saw it all. When I got to the airport, I knew I wasn't going to have it easy. I missed my flight by about 4 hours and it was getting late. I was tired and hungry but I wasn't anywhere near done yet. I had lines to stand in.
If you procrastinate or have ever procrastinated in your life, don't fly with Delta Airlines. Their check-in procedure is all computer-based which will actually DENY your entrance if you're not there 45 minutes before your flight leaves. That's right. If you're even 1 minute late, you have to wait in the line... and this is a long line. Because mostly everything is computer-based, there's only one Customer Service person to talk to. Likewise, because you're rejected even if you're a little bit late, you have to wait in the line. Needless to say, the line was long. Tons of angry and frustrated customers waited anxiously as we watched the one employee leave his desk. And there we were... waiting for nobody. Time passed and soon it was 15 minutes. If you had barely missed the 45 minute mark, chances are your flight would leave before you even got to see the guy. I then overheard someone talking about a line to stand in if you needed to reschedule your flight. Obviously I needed to do that so I decided to go to that line. Even though I had just spent the last 15 minutes in the wrong line... at least I would be in the right one.
I change lines at a good time, because the new line suddenly got extremely longer after I joined. I stood in front of this Jamaican guy who seemed pretty cool. I started talking to him and he told me he was on his way to Germany to see his goddaughter. I told him I was just on my way home to school. Nothing international, just home. The people in front of me were talking about going to Paris, France. This started to get me a little bit worried, though. All the people in this line seemed to have international flights. Was I in the wrong line again? There was a guy that walked by in a Delta outfit so I asked him about it. He said domestic flights could go in that line too, but I could use one of the black phones to make it easier. I told him thanks and left the line to find the black phones. Unfortunately for me, the phones didn't work, so I had to go back in line again. Luckily the guy, whose name is Demetri, was kind enough to let me have my spot back.
After more waiting--I really don't know how long, but it was a damn long time--I'm the next person in line. There are three Delta employees helping people, a young black girl on the left, and old black guy in the middle, and a middle-aged Asian lady on the right. As I'm waiting in line, the guy in the middle actually yells at the customer he's trying to help because he (the employee!) is getting frustrated. Dude, it's time for you to leave Customer Service. So I'm standing next in line looking at all this thinking, "Please don't let me get that guy." Sure enough, he's the next available person, but wait! The guy, I think his name was Charity, steps out from behind his booth and addresses the line. He tells everyone, "This line is for international flights only. If you have a domestic flight, you must talk to the person over there." And by "over there" he means the line I was originally in. Now this got everyone in the line upset (at least, almost everyone) because they were in the same boat I was. Basically, we were told to go from one line to another, because no one really knew what they were doing.
As the guy started coming back to his desk, I just kinda stood there in shock for a little bit. I asked him, "So, exactly, what line am I supposed to be in?" He points and says, "Over there." I tell him to show me exactly what line was the right line, because I've already been line-hopping all over the place. Thankfully, the Asian lady says, "You've been waiting in the line for this long already, we can help you." I tell Charity my situation and he tells me that I'm gonna have to pay a lot of money for this mistake and he goes on complaining about people missing their flights and how he hasn't had his lunch break yet (and it was way past lunch time). Yeah, whatever. I just want to get home. BUT THEN! The young girl next to him was, apparently, new to the job so she calls Charity over for help. He tells me he'll be right back, but that was definitely a lie. He goes over there and starts helping that customer as if it was his own. No! You solve her problem and come back to me. Alas, I wait for countless minutes--which felt like an eternity--for him to come back. He does, and then goes away again. I stand there, quiet, because I really don't want to make a scene. The customer on that side then says, "You know what, help that boy over there first and then we can solve our problem. He's been very patient."
Long story short, Charity comes back to me and helps me find a flight for the next morning at 7am to LAX. This means I'll have to spend the night inside the terminal because I don't have the money for a hotel or the time to go to Brooklyn and stay at Bace's house for the night. I end up wandering Terminal 1 for the entire night/morning doing whatever I can and taking brief little naps. I also met this cool girl named Kole who was from Russia.
Just before I headed to that Terminal, though, I saw Demetri for one last time. He was sitting alone by the phones. I asked him if he was able to get a flight and he told me no. He said that there was one flight to London that he just missed because of how long he had to wait in the lines. He also told me he could take a different flight tomorrow but that would cost him $2,000. His eyes got red and puffy and he was about to cry when he told me, "I just want to see my goddaughter. My goddaughter, you know? But it feels like I'm just out of options." I felt so sorry for him. When Charity kept leaving me, he told me that I should stand up for myself. He didn't even know me, but he had my back. He was an awesome guy. He, also, was a guy that barely missed the 45 minute mark. If he was a little bit earlier, if there was a little bit less traffic, he'd be on his way to Germany to see his goddaughter. But no. The airport fucked this guy over royally.
I looked around me and I was in hell. I've never seen so many frustrated people before. There was a lady crying about missing the vacation that she had planned her entire year around. There was Demetri who didn't get to visit his goddaughter... something he wanted nothing more than. There were entire families that were just sitting on the floor with nothing to do. All of this because of an airline that didn't care. It was hell.
As I left Demetri, he told me he was going to go back and get a "second opinion" so to speak. He wanted there to be options. There had to be something he could do other than pay $2,000 or miss the trip. I don't know if Demetri ever made it to Germany. He told me he lives in Brooklyn and spends a lot of time in the city, so chances are we'll see each other again... someday.
I did make my flight, however, and I did make it home. Keith picked me up from LAX because neither of my parents could. It was nice seeing him again and it reminded me of all the friends that I left behind when I moved to New York. But it's alright, because I'm back in California and I can see them all now. And I plan on doing just that.
Chatboard (1)