I think I should begin this blog post by explaining why I’m writing down such a crazy, somewhat exhausting story. Even as I write this, I can hear myself thinking: “Wouldn’t you rather remember the good memories and lessons you learned? Wouldn’t you rather forget the bad?”
The truth is I want to remember the good and the bad, not only because doing so will make the memory whole, but because the bad sometimes taught me more than the good. I began my study abroad journey to Glasgow with the hopes of proving to myself that I could do challenging things—that while the world may be vast and intimidating, I could navigate it, make friends, and cultivate my own home wherever I went. And while the classes at the University of Glasgow made me a stronger and more curious student, it was the solo traveling and, in particular, moments like these, which taught me in the most memorable ways.
Bleary-eyed and feeling nauseous from anxiety, I checked out of my student accomodations at approximately 7:00am on December 22nd. Already, I was thirty minutes behind schedule. The night was dark and classically cold for winter in Glasgow. My taxi arrived—a friendly Glaswegian man—and we were off! He took me to the airport and was kind enough to tell me where to go, how the terminals worked, and what to expect at security. Grateful and smiling, I waved goodbye as he drove away.
Security went somewhat seamlessly, which surprised me! When I got to the flight information board, however, the first bump in my journey appeared: my first flight had been delayed by nearly an hour and a half… there was now no way I could make it through customs and find my next flight in London Heathrow with that amount of time.
I collapsed into a terminal chair, a stress migraine already forming, as I wondered what to do. My stomach was churning with nervousness, so much so that the only breakfast I managed to eat were some pringles from the airport market. Uncertain of what to do, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Where could I go for help?
Then, glowing like an angel, an unexpected friend appeared. It was Kathi, a psychology student from Germany I had befriended while abroad! She was also flying home, and had the same amount of time to wait as I did. I was so relieved to see a friendly face, and when she plopped down next to me and started to chat about all the flight delays, a new sense of calm washed over me. It would all be okay.
It turns out that my flight had been delayed because the plane scheduled to carry me had had its toilets malfunction. They had flooded the cabin midair! While it was unfortunate that I had been delayed, it was even more fortunate I was not on the plane when it malfunctioned.
The rest of my journey follows the storied tale of traveling during the holiday season; once at London Heathrow, I was rebooked onto a plane that stopped boarding minutes after I received my flight information. A lady in a navy British Airlines uniform jogged next to me as she led me through Heathrow and towards my flight, and, despite the sweat and stress of running, I knew I was lucky to be rebooked that same day. Other passengers on my previous flight had been rebooked to a flight tomorrow, or even later in the week. I had been both lucky and misfortunate; sense a pattern?
On the 12 hour flight back into the states, I was not able to sleep. My brain was too fried from stress, and my stomach was still churning. Definitely a bad thing. However, my lack of sleep allowed me to see a dance of green lights crossing the dark sky outside of my window. The map told me that our plane was crossing over Northern Canada at that moment; I watched in awe at the aurora borealis outside my plane window. I was so lucky to be so unfortunate.
My new flight took me to Chicago—a different destination than my intended Dallas connection spot—and when I landed, customs took so long that I missed my new flight to Oklahoma. Worse? My checked bag had been lost in London, and I would need to put in a request to find it. Tearfully, I stood in line as the American Airlines agent assigned me a hotel room and a food voucher for the night. While I was disappointed to not be in my own bed, the hotel staff were amicable, and my dinner (an American-sized caesar salad and a cold Pepsi) was delicious.
The next day, I woke up exhausted, but incredibly ready to be home. The stress went hand in hand with the excitement. I went through security and boarded the last plane of my trip.
Finally, almost twenty-four hours delayed, I had made it home to Oklahoma.
And despite the difficulty of my travel, I knew that I was one of the lucky ones, and that there were many tired, hungry international travelers that were spending Christmas in the Heathrow or O’Hare airport terminals, waiting for an update to their flight plans.
I had a new appreciation for being able to make it home, and for everyone who had helped me overcome each challenge. Every bad thing had come with a good thing—every challenge, a reward, for persevering. And every terrible situation, a person willing to help.
As I went to sleep in my bed for the first time in months, I felt sad that my Scottish study abroad had ended, but so, so happy that it had even happened in the first place.
