Flying Alone

[Personal Story Time]

Bonjour tout le monde. Ça va? (Good day everyone. How are you?)

Hope you had a great start of the day because I sure had quite a morning.

I'm pretty sure you're unaware of this (unless you follow my personal Instagram account) because I didn't tell anyone, but I went to Jakarta with my family over the weekend. It wasn't really an official vacation, since the main reason why we went there in the first place was because my parents were participating in the Jakarta Marathon.

No, I'm not going to tell you all about my trip and how we visited the National Museum, Cathedral, Istiqalah Mosque or even the zoo (but yes, we did visit those places), because that isn't what this personal story is about.

This, today, is about my first flight alone. Yep, me, 17 years, 3 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days old (good luck figuring out when my birthday is). I had to go back to my home country earlier than the rest of my family because my physics class was at two later that afternoon and I couldn't afford to miss it. Hence, I took the 8:30 am flight, a few hours before my family's 1pm one.

I woke up at 4:30 am (Indonesian time), right when my alarm started ringing. My brother had already sprung from the bed the second it started playing loud guitar riffs, pulling the sheets and repeatedly telling me to get ready. I was in the lobby by 5:31 am with both my parents by my side. With nervousness in my veins and longing in my heart, we called a taxi over. A promise to message them as soon as I landed and a hug later, I was off to the airport. Alone.

It was nerve-wrecking really, sitting in a taxi with no sister to make stupid jokes, no brother to be understandingly sweet, no father to talk about economics to, no mother to comfort me, and most importantly, no Wifi to contact anyone. It was either do it right, or go missing. I was lucky enough there were bright bougainvilleas sprouting out messily like untamed hair in between road dividers, each one calming me down as we drove past.


We reached a little less than an hour later, the taxi ride being Rp 200,000. I quickly hustled into the airport, and went through all the security checks despite my deteriorating travel bag. Upon inspection, they pulled out the three liquids from my backpack: a bottle of water, pink milk (watch Charlie and Lola, you'll understand what I'm referring to), and olive oil. My first thought was Crap. I completely forgot that my toiletries are in my backpack. I was aware of the milk and water, and planned to drink them before takeoff. What I wasn't aware of was that my toiletries included a bottle of olive oil that I use on my face every night before I go to sleep (I don't use face wash, too much chemicals). "You should've put it in your luggage," they told me, referring to my travel bag I had just checked in. Welp, there goes my facial cleanliness for the next week.

They were nice enough to allow me to finish up my water and milk (in which I hid it in my bag for later because I was already bloated by the amount of water I drank), and I was off to the departure gate. When I got there, passport in hand and all, the lady by the door told me that it wasn't my flight's turn yet. It was 6:45 am Indonesian time then, and so I looked over to my boarding time.

7:50 AM.

Well.

That makes sense.

Retreating to a trio of empty seats (where I claimed two of them as my own HAHA), I pulled out my French book and started conjugating verbs (动词). Funny how I'm still confused at what "verb" means, but when someone says 动词 (dong ci), which is basically the same meaning, my eyes go wide and my mouth forms an 'O' shape and go: "Ohhhhhhhh". Sigh. The disadvantages of being semi-bilingual(?).

Anyway, I bought myself an apple tart (Indonesian food is really good, I can't live there. I'll go fat and then be sad) before going back to my gate at 7:30 am and took a seat among the patches of people seated inside. It felt weird, seeing groups of people flocked together, wearing the same clothing (no, they're not cults), couples cuddling under the air-conditioner, families huddled in packs, and here I was, sitting alone. I was fine really, being alone. I spend 98% of the time with myself. It was just that I wasn't used to doing these things on my own. I couldn't even do my homework or listen to music in peace, staying alert at all times to make sure I didn't miss the boarding time. The adult world sure is tough.

It was at 7:53 am when they announced that the flight would be delayed for around half an hour. Needless to say, I (and probably the rest of my co-flight buddies) wasn't happy about it. A delayed flight meant a delayed arrival time, and a delayed arrival time meant I would get back to school later than the estimated time. What if I was late to my class and miss the first few parts of the new chapter on physics? What if I completely missed my class? What then?

From that moment on, I was a walking ball of anxiety. The AirAsia airplane arrived around 8:36 am, where I quickly shuffled in line and climbed aboard, sneakily hiding my pink milk from the public eye. My seat was the furthest from the window,  right before the main walkway. I didn't mind that it was closer to the busyness (No, not business. Actual busy-ness.) of the aircraft, as long as I had my peace and quiet, I was good. I closed my eyes and hoped that no one would come over and sit next to me. That was the last thing I needed today. Three seconds after I had plopped down comfortably in my seat, a pair of guys came by. They were my seat mates.

It seemed that I didn't pray hard enough.

They shuffled in quickly, whispering to each other in Mandarin. Turns out, they were local Chinese from my home country, since they didn't have any fancy China accent and recognized a local Chinese slang or two. Either way, it didn't matter. I was too done with my current situation to bother listening to what they were saying.

Bored, I opened my book and started to write the next chapter of Broken, something I hope you, reader, are excited for. Not even a dozen words later, I ran out of pencil lead. I looked up to the luggage compartment above my head, where my pencil box was most probably sitting rather comfortably in my backpack. I couldn't get up and take it, we were taking off soon. I resisted an urge to sigh. Why do I do this to myself?

The airplane was in the beginning stage of lifting itself off the ground when I heard something. Something throaty and hoarse, something... unpleasant. It didn't take me long to find out that it was one of the passengers in the row behind me, snoring. Why. I didn't even bother turn around and find out who the culprit was. My motivation to go on was already failing me. Don't even get me started on how the person in front of me chose to push their seat into a decline once the airplane was drifting comfortably in the air, decreasing the already narrow space I had as an airplane passenger by a quarter.

The rest of the flight was spent typing away on my phone, writing what you're currently reading right now while listening to a frequent transition between French, Japanese, and American music. Most of the passengers ended up nodding to sleep, even the two guys next to me. But I didn't. My productive mood was too strong to let me do such a relaxing activity. I would've done my macroeconomics notes and revised them but that would've taken a lot of space and would take a messy amount of hurried time to pack up.

We landed at 12:03pm, surprisingly earlier than I expected. The moment I stood up from my seat and pulled my backpack onto my sore shoulders (we went to the gym back in Jakarta, and so I currently have sore pectoral muscles and calves), I immediately regretted it.

I needed to pee.

Why oh why do I always do this to myself? This was the same thing that happened when we landed in Jakarta four days ago. Stationary on an airplane for two hours, and an urgent need to go to the toilet the moment I stand up. I followed the crowd and shuffled through the halls and went through security, all the while trying my best to look for a toilet nearby. It was when I arrived at the luggage claim area that I dashed to the toilet (not so) nearby after asking a lady at a counter. I really have to stop doing this. One of these days you never know if something bad happens to my liver and whatnot.

I left the toilet a few (probably ten) minutes later, just on time to see my flight's luggage being spluttered out from the luggage system-thing. I quickly grabbed my travel bag, a 9.5 kg ugly thing, and rushed to find the exit.

I ended up outside after minutes of frantic searching and nearly panicking. I called a GrabCar and spoke to my family via Whatsapp while I waited for the driver to come. They were at the airport, waiting for their flight. My parents told me to send me a picture, and so I did.


A little over five minutes later, I hopped onto a GrabCar, and made my way back to school. And there you have it, my first experience taking a flight on my own. Hope it isn't considered too bad.

Anyway, I'll see you soon. Bye.

- Nukey

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular Posts