Leaving America

Lost Five Pounds at Ohare Airport

No, unfortunately not five physical pounds. I wish it were that easy because an instant loss of five pounds would really make my day.

My family and I arrived at the airport at 5am, Sunday, August 8th. I checked in at the ticket counter and was promptly informed my largest suitcase was five pounds over the weight limit. Ugh! After the packing woes I'd faced and conquered, everything was squeezed into the suitcase in a meticulous and precisely planned order. What the heck could I get rid of or send back home with my kids to drop the excess five pounds? Feeling pressured by the huge line forming behind me (at 5am on a Sunday morning?!), I found two things that would solve my dilemma: a stack of magazines or a large ziploc bag full of bottles of perfume. Ultimately, I chose to keep the magazines because I love to read and already had two bottles of perfume stashed elsewhere in my luggage. The reading material won out, in a heartbeat, over smelling good.

Ahhh...the Smells of Air Travel

I have an acute sense of smell. Most of the time, I have a great appreciation for this. I love the smell of lilacs in May, the scent of coconut-anything transports me to the beach instantly and fresh food smells allow me to enjoy the food without eating it.  Morning isn't morning without the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and who doesn't love the smell of a tiny, newborn baby as you gently kiss their skin? But there are times when I would love to be able to turn off my acute sense of smell since unpleasant aromas are just as strong to my sensitive nose as the smells I enjoy.

All was fine in the terminal as I waited for my flight. Coffee shops and restaurants were all around and the smell of breakfast and coffee wafted through the air. After a short delay, I finally boarded the plane and was immediately struck by the "smallness" of the cabin. At that point, I was only thinking of my physical comfort but, shortly thereafter, I"d be thinking of my olfactory comfort, too.

The first class section was decked out with individual pillows and blankets on each seat along with a small bottle of water. "Nice touch," I thought. Then I entered the coach section where my seat was located and was immediately assaulted by The Bad Breath Brigade. Oh lordy! Bad breath at any time of the day is not a good thing but, for some reason, my sense of smell is heightened even more in the morning and the onslaught of sinus breath, garlic breath, Everything Bagel breath and coffee breath just about knocked me back to the gate. I discretely tried not to breathe as I made my way to the back of the plane toward seat 19A. Thankfully, not many people were in the back of the cabin and my seatmate was a pleasant girl with equally pleasant breath. To ensure that I did not inadvertently become a member of The Bad Breathe Brigade I made sure to have an Altoid in my mouth the entire flight. Life is to precious to have to die a slow and agonizing death from suffocation at the hands of The Bad Breath Brigade. Word of advice to travelers: Carry mints, lifesavers, lollipops or even cough drops in case of a breath-related emergency. It happens to the best of us, but please don't let it happen in a small airplane! The flight crew won't allow me to hang my head out the little window in an effort to find some fresh air.

John F. Kennedy Airport

JFK Inernational Airport

It was my first time, ever, in New York City. Or New York, for that matter. Or even on the East Coast. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a view outside the windows of the airport but the airport itself was huge with eight different terminals, more shops than you can imagine and plenty to keep a person busy. Since my layover at JFK was seven hours, I was thankful for so much to see and do.

After walking around for awhile with a 25 pound carry-on duffle bag slung over my shoulder, I was ready to find a seat and escape to the relaxation of my laptop computer. An eclectic group of people busied themselves around me as they wait for their flights, speaking in more accents and languages than I could count.  In one corner, a couple kissed for minutes on end...not a young couple, just a couple enjoying only each other despite the crowd around them. A large group of ten French-speaking people gathered around twice as many suitcases piled in a mound that closely resembled one of the Great Pyramids of Egypt. Alone stood a man, holding a bouquet of red roses. He wandered around the area, alternately looking for someone and texting. I was curious to see with whom he connected.

I had found a seat in a small grouping of about ten chairs, pushed closely together. When I sat down there, I was the only one sitting in the area...which is why I chose the location. A bit of peace and quiet and maybe some time to focus and write for awhile. Within five minutes a family of nine descended on the remainder of the area, speaking what sounded like Nigerian or Ethiopian. They were very animated with their hands as they spoke and I could tell this because I could see, from the corner of my eye, appendages flying about every which way. The group included five children who alternately ran around the seats in a make-shift game of tag, then sat down quickly when one of the adults took notice and hollered at them to sit. One little girl of about four years old, sat next to me once in awhile, peaking over at my computer.

I'd been at JFK for three hours before I was finally able to check in at the Air Berlin ticket counter at 2pm. From a seating area on the first floor, I made my way up to the third floor of Terminal 8 to check in at the Air Berlin ticket counter. Despite the fact that I'd arrived at the ticket counter fifteen minutes before it was open, the queue leading up to the ticket agents was completely full and then some. I joined the end of the line and began to people-watch as I inched my way forward. Right away, I noticed the Americans and Germans were dressed very similarly except for one man who, I never was able to determine as either German or American, was dressed in a madras plaid sport coat reminiscent of the used-car-salesman look of the 70s.

The people in line spoke a mix of German and English and, once in awhile, another language such as Italian and French would pop in. Reality struck me in the middle of the queue as it sunk in that soon, I would be surrounded by the German language more than any other language, including my native language of English. Though I had certainly considered all the changes and differences I would encounter once I moved to Germany, nothing makes those changes more real than experiencing them. Standing in the line to the Air Berlin ticket counter was a glimpse of things to come. For a second I was nervous, then I chose to let that nervousness go in favor of looking forward to all the new experiences I was about to encounter.

People have asked me frequently if I was nervous about going to Germany, especially as the day of departure drew closer. I kept saying "no." Even Mario had a hard time understanding how I could be "cool as a cucumber." But I was and I believe it's because I only get nervous about stupid, inconsequential things not worth getting nervous over or things that give me a bad feeling in my gut. Moving to Germany to be with Mario has neither been viewed by me as stupid or bad. In my heart of hearts and deep down in my soul, I know this for sure. When you are so sure of something, so sure of someone, there is no reason to be nervous.