June 30th 2012:
The day that will be forever lost
to me. Flying across the Pacific might well be my version of hell. I began the
morning of June 29, 2012 an excited graduate student arriving with perfect
eagerness 2 hours and 20 minutes before my international flight. I was prepared
for my 3 hour layover in Chicago: I’d finish my manuscript edits, I’d talk to
the man on the phone for a while, and I’d delve into the multiple trashy
magazines I bought. Enter now the 2-hour delay on my flight to Chicago. I begin
to get nervous. My palms start to sweat. I tell myself “Self, you are okay
you’ll still have an hour in Chicago.” So I calm myself and finish those
manuscript edits right as the STL to Chicago plane begins boarding. I will
still have an hour right? Wrong, after sitting on the Jetway for 30 minutes in
STL and a 40 minute taxi in Chicago, I find myself sprinting to my gate 6
minutes after my Tokyo flight was supposed to leave. Luckily they held the
plane with just enough time for me to send a quick text to the man and off I
went. Twelve and half cramped hours later I landed in Tokyo to make my
connection to Taipei. When I finally arrived I was exhausted and sore, but
ready to make Taiwan my home for the next two months.
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