Just Trying to Get Home!

It’s been 5 days since our flight home via Finland has been canceled. A volcanic eruption in Iceland has caused the massive shutdown of airspace throughout most of Europe. The pluming clouds of dust and minute glass particles are feared to destroy plane engines, thus making any air travel dangerous and impossible. At first, Brian and I decide to wait it out, figuring it would last no longer than one or two days. An extended vacation to work on my tan is welcomed and appreciated. I have no idea or any practical insight that this dilemma would extend indefinitely. By day 3 and bordering on irritability, we make several trips to the airport in an attempt to find an alternate route. We are consistently met with rejection. Our cruddy hotel is fully booked, rooms packed with Europeans stranded on their holidays. Many are families with children, who are now missing both work and school. High anxiety circulates the air, as every morning a crowd assembles into the lobby seeking guidance on the latest updates. Brian and I spend our days constantly checking the Internet, glued to BBC news, waiting for any acknowledgement that air traffic will resume. By day 4, I am nearing on breakdown. Now sunburned and constantly hungry, the lack of information easily frustrates. We incessantly deliberate on what to do, where to go and how to make it back to New York. Hours are spent researching flights, many of which are either canceled or extremely expensive. Although I realize we are safe and healthy, I still cry daily over the inability to do anything. Quite the harsh reminder that we are not in control, forced to obey Mother Nature whether we welcome her or not.



We finally agree to forfeit our previously bought plane tickets and purchase a new set. Finding a flight through China, we are scheduled to arrive home by Wednesday afternoon. Verging desperation, we depart for Shanghai at 2am. Never before have I been so happy, thankful and relieved to a leave a location, especially one in the midst of ongoing political uproar. Never before have I wanted to be home so badly.


Arriving to China in the early morning, a thick white fog makes visibility near impossible. The cold, wet air bites at my body, as I have become accustomed to tropical warmth. Brian and I make our way through the quarantine, where every person is checked for sickness. Questionable suspects gets their temperature taken. Because we were not issued a connecting ticket in Bangkok, we are pulled off the customs line and detained in a private holding area. The ONLY reason I do not have yet another breakdown is because there are two other travelers also held, one American businessman and a young British woman, both en route to New York. There is a sense the airport officials are unsure of what to do with us, talking swiftly and intensely, walking in and out of the room in great fury. My stomach in knots, I start imaging being held in China for days before I am allowed to go home. I feel myself sweat as once again my nerves are tested and pushed.



After thirty minutes of anticipated waiting, our small and exhausted group is escorted through the airport. Luckily, we manage to locate our stranded bags next to the now empty conveyor belt and lug them through the terminal. The four of us are placed on a bus, informed that we arrived at the wrong airport due to inclement weather. I question whether we were being told the truth, but quietly shuffle onto the bus and obey their commands. Over an hour driving through Shanghai traffic in the rain, we arrive at the correct airport. Queuing on extensive lines, we are ordered to check in, pass security repeatedly, and legally get out of the country. With numerous small scares and aggravating nuisances , I feel lucky we make it to our gate with a just few minutes to spare. With intense hunger and resulting headaches, we quickly stop at a small restaurant. I excitedly discover "porridge" on the menu, thinking it must be to the likes of oatmeal or cream of wheat. Unfortunately, what I receive is a watery broth, with a few scattered mung beans and some broken pieces of rice. I imagine this is the kind of meal inmates get at a maximum security prison!



The flight is delayed over two hours, as we patiently wait on the runway to depart. The plane is crammed full of sick people, sneezing and coughing through the entire trip. I am constantly scrubbing my hands to ward off any infectious bug, especially since the passenger next to me has sores covering most of her mouth. A handful of babies scream for hours, their cries piercing and alarming. The plane is kept cold and dark, as we are forbidden to open the shades to allow the bright sunlight to filter in. Stewardesses are unfriendly, disappearing for extended lengths of time and refusing to provide extra food or drinks. We are barely fed, agonizingly famished through most of the 15 long hours. Despite feeling as though the flight will never end, we do finally make home, back to the greatest city in the world, the place I appreciate more than ever.....NEW YORK!