Getting On A Plane

I looked down at my suitcase and backpack as I clocked out at the upscale restaurant I was working at. I went over and sat down at the marble stone bar to have a drink before heading to the airport. I was so excited I could barely sit still. Donna came over and gave me a big hug and told me to have a great time. We had built a fantastic friendship this past year and I absolutely loved her energy. The cab pulled up as I chugged the last of my beer.

On the way to the SeaTac International airport, I looked out the window and watched everything pass by. It was the end of September, and the air was getting crispier each day. We pulled into the terminal, and I joined the other travelers checking into their flights. I walked up to the counter of Icelandair and handed the woman my passport. She confirmed that I was flying to Iceland for a layover and then to Paris. I handed her my oversized, full suitcase to check in. She gave me my boarding pass, ticket, and pointed me in the direction of security.

It hit me while I was standing in line that I was going on my first international trip! I was heading to Europe! I got through security and still had time before my flight, so I went to the first bar I saw, ordered a draft beer, and slowly drank it. I decided to shoot a text to Jacob.

“I’m all checked into my flight and drinking a beer!” I exclaimed in the text.

          “Rad, enjoy yourself!” he responded. Him and I have known each other since freshman year in high school. We go way back, and I have been living with him and his husband for the past year. I finished the beer and started walking to my gate. I had to go to a completely different part of the airport, the foreign travel area! It was far away and as soon as I got to the boarding area I noticed foreign items everywhere, from chocolate to liquor. I popped an over the counter sleeping pill to help me sleep on the flight. It was going to be 7 hours and a nine-hour time difference, so I needed to sleep, at least a little on the first lag of the trip. I boarded the plane and found my seat. As the plane taxied, I began to relax and look out the window. I watched Seattle get smaller and smaller beneath us until it disappeared below. Again, I ordered a beer as the sleeping pill kicked in.

September 29th, 2015, is what the immigration officer stamped on the fresh passport that I got a year and a half prior. I was in the Keflavik International Airport heading to Paris! It was the middle of the night, dark and freezing. This airport was the hub of connecting flights in and out of Europe. I found the gate to my flight and waited with the European passengers. I was the minority! Everyone looked so elegant and European. I was in awe. The first thing I did was go and get some Euro. I walked over to an A.T.M, put in my card and pulled out my very first international money. The money was so nice and crisp.

 I boarded the flight to Paris, which was only going to be about two hours. I began to wake up and drank a bottle of water. I could see the city of Paris below me as we flew in closer. I looked at the map of Paris for months before this trip and could see the Eifel Tower off in the distance. One of the first things that stood out was that there were not many tall buildings. No skyscrapers. Just the Eifel Tower in this   massive sprawled out city. I was ecstatic to be in a new country!

          After getting my suitcase from baggage claim I followed the signs that led to the train station. I went over and bought a ticket from the ticket stand. I wrote down the stop before I left home, Paris Gare du Norde. I boarded the train and took a seat. I listened to the announcements in French and looked at all the French ads that were in the train. It was all new and exciting and much needed in my life. It had been a shitty couple of years before arriving at this moment.

          I got off at the Paris Gare du Norde stop and was surrounded by hundreds of French people. I was in Paris and couldn’t stop smiling. I walked out of the massive train station and the weather was perfect. It was the beginning of Fall, the air was crisp, and the leaves were turning brown. I saw restaurants across the street with people sitting and drinking coffee. People were walking by fast with places to go and things to see. All my senses were on high alert. I opened google maps on my phone and found my hostel.

          I was staying at St. Christopher’s Inn Gare du Norde. I was nervous because I didn’t know any French except bonjour. I walked up to the counter and handed the young man my passport. He was very nice and spoke perfect English. I was so relieved. He handed me the key and pointed me in the direction of my room. There was a bar/restaurant in the middle of this hotel and all the rooms were above and around it. Looking down, I could see the bar from my room. Now that I was in my room, the jet lag hit me. It was only maybe three o’clock, so I set my alarm for 30 minutes. I just needed a power nap. Power naps always worked for me. I know some people who would take naps and then they would be tired the rest of the day. Not me, I always woke up from a nap recharged.

My alarm went off 30 minutes later and I was ready to explore Paris. I walked out of the hotel and went in one direction. Everything was so brand new to me. The street signs, the people, and the buildings. That first day in Paris was a bit of a blur because of the jet lag, I ended up going to bed early and woke up early the next day.

Waking up in a different country for the first time was exhilarating. I walked downstairs to get some breakfast. All the other travelers were grabbing pastries, fruit, orange juice, and coffee. I grabbed my breakfast and took a seat. I looked around at all the people. They were all Europeans speaking in their native tongues. The thing I liked best about it was that I couldn’t understand them. I was able to think clearly as I was surrounded by all these new sights and sounds. I was able to feel my brain slowly clear out. Being far away from the familiar noises at home brought clarity to the present moment. This was the first time I was living in the moment. I was taking in everything that was happening. The two girls eating their cereal together, the young guy alone looking at his phone and the workers filling up the breakfast bar with more fruit. I was instantly focused on the moment. Before then, I don’t know if I had ever been so tuned into what was happening in the present. I finished my food and went back to my room.

The room was very small, and my suitcase was under the bed. I pulled it out and found jeans and a short sleeved black shirt to wear. Before leaving the room, I checked my purse at least three times for my keys, wallet with my euro in it and checked if my passport was still in the drawer I had put it in when I checked in yesterday. Everything was good, and I started exploring Paris.

          At the front desk of my hotel there were brochures for different tourist attractions in Paris. The one that caught my eye was the Big Bus Tour. Now, if you have ever traveled to any big touristy cities, you have seen these. They are double stacked buses that take you to sights all over the city that you are in. It’s the most touristy thing to do but it is the most convenient. You can get on and off wherever and whenever you want. Stay at a stop however long you want because another bus will be around in about ten minutes. There was a stop very close to my hotel and I went and waited by it. I loved it here. I got on the bus and purchased a day pass. They gave me a ticket and a map of all the stops. I went to the upper deck and found a seat in the back.

It was so relaxing driving through Paris without a worry in the world. I watched the people below me, looking at the architecture of the city and all the little cafes with everyday people eating and drinking coffee. I got off at the biggest attraction in Paris, the Eifel Tower. The park where it sits was huge. People were enjoying themselves by sitting and drinking wine, walking along the trails, and just enjoying life in Paris.

I took a seat on a park bench and focused on being in the moment again. Taking in the sights and sounds around me. It was awkward for me to just sit still with myself. I was still recovering from the last year and a half of hitting rock bottom and slowly coming back to the surface. Being in Paris was nice and soothing to me. I walked around the next few days drinking wine, people watching and just savoring every moment. I was flying out of Paris to go back home so I would be back for one last night.

After four days in Paris, I was back on a plane heading to Amsterdam. Amsterdam was a last-minute decision before I left home. I knew I was going to do Paris and Barcelona but could not think of a third place. One night I was doing research and since I loved smoking weed, why not go to Amsterdam?! So, I booked a ticket from Paris to Amsterdam. I dragged my suitcase back to the train that took me to the airport, and I got on the plane that flew me into Amsterdam.

          The flight was only about an hour and the airport was much smaller than Paris by far! I still can’t believe the first international trip I did was by myself, and I just flew into Paris. Go big or go home I suppose. I got my luggage from baggage claim and waited for a cab. I had my hostel information all ready and handed it to the driver who was super nice. It was early afternoon and Amsterdam’s layout is a circle with a lot of canals and bikes were everywhere! Everyone rides bikes here. I got to my hostel. Unlike in Paris, Amsterdam was super expensive for your own room, so I had to stay in a hostel with twenty other travelers. I was going to be high the whole time, so it would be fine. I got a big locker for all my stuff and locked it up. I grabbed a map and headed out.

          I soon realized that where you smoke weed were at places called coffee shops and they were everywhere. I went into the first one I saw. I could smell the weed as soon as I opened the door. It was heaven. The guy behind the counter was reading a book and was very high and relaxed. I began looking at the selection. They had so many kinds of weed and different forms for you to take it in. My favorite was the pre-rolled joints. I asked for a couple joints when the guy asked if I wanted Indica or Sativa. I had no idea what he was asking. Wasn’t weed just weed? He explained that Indica makes you lazy. Indacouch was the way to remember, but Sativa keeps you awake. I went with Sativa, so I could keep walking around. I also had to buy a beverage if I wanted to stay and smoke there.

          I walked up the four steps to the sitting area. I sat on the opposite side of the room from a couple who were so high. I sat down and opened the tube with the joint inside. I took it out and lit it. I took a huge hit and sat back. I was getting high in Amsterdam! I could feel myself getting even more relaxed. I looked around the room at the pictures and the colors. People were coming in off the streets and purchasing something to smoke. I was slowly getting higher and higher. I smoked half the joint and felt good. I put the other half back in the tube and left the store high as fuck. I turned to the left walking away from my hostel. I marked it on the map and just started walking. Amsterdam is very small and a circle. I enjoyed the cobblestone I was walking on. I enjoyed the little shops I walked by. I enjoyed the fact I was here during my favorite time of year. I enjoyed the fact I was high. I was walking with no plan. Then it hit me. I was fucking hungry! But before I ate I wanted to finish this joint, so I walked into another coffeeshop. I bought another soda and lit the joint. As I sat there, I thought of my mother. It had been 9 months since I last talked to her. I didn’t really know how she was doing. The last straw I had with her was when I was in Portland, and I broke down in front of her. I just started crying in her room and all I needed was someone to listen and just comfort me. I didn’t need her to help me financially. I just needed her to help me emotionally. She pulled out a drink from her closet and handed it to me. Have a drink she said to me. That is the last thing I wanted. I didn’t need a drink, I needed emotional support. She continued to get wasted that night and I slept in my little brother’s room.

          I went back to Seattle and continued my life. One night I was having the worst pain in my vagina, and I had no idea what it was. I was lying in bed with my legs open and a box fan blowing on it to soothe the pain. My Facebook messenger went off and it was her. I looked at the message and it was something I had heard my entire life. I could tell she was drunk and although I was in pain, I responded with, “for so long I’ve wanted you to be happy and healthy, I have no energy anymore to fight. I can’t do it.” She blocked me on Facebook and a few days later I went to therapy.

As I finished the joint, I took a deep breath in, stood up and left to find some food. I came across this cheeseburger place, and it was packed. I ordered a cheeseburger with mushrooms and went out and sat on the edge of the canal to wait. When they called my number for the cheeseburger I grabbed a seat on the second floor, so I could watch everyone in the restaurant. I took one bite of this cheeseburger and fell in love. It had the perfect amount of blood, and the mushrooms were cooked just right. I ate that cheeseburger with such passion.

          After filling up my stomach I headed back out. I walked around the streets and canals for hours. When I had decided to head back to my hostel I looked on the map of where I was and where I needed to go. I headed in, which I thought was the right direction. Remember, I was high, and this was my first night here. I would look at the map, then the street sign and go in the direction I thought was correct. I would even double check the map when I got to the next street. One thing that kept happening was when I would be on the right path, I would let my high mind wander and walk to far and get all turned around again. Also, Amsterdam’s layout is a circle.

          I stopped to look at the map again right outside a house and as I was trying to figure out where I was, the man who lived there was coming home with his son. I asked if he could help me. He put his bike in his little house and came back out. I showed him where my hostel was, and he very kindly pointed me in the right direction. He asked where I was from, and I told him America.

          “You guys sure love your guns” he said.

          “Oh, I know” I replied as I rolled my eyes. The primaries were just beginning, and I told him that I was very scared because Donald Trump was running, and he was doing well in the polls. He told me not to worry and that it would be between Hilary and Jeb Bush. This is all just for show and ratings.

          “I hope so, thank you for giving me directions” I said as I sprinted off towards my hostel.

          When I returned to my hostel I took my phone out and opened my tinder dating app to start swiping. I was only going to be here three days, so I needed to make something happen. I got a lot of matches and started talking to a few different guys. One guy stood out from all the rest. His birthday was the following day which made him only a few days older than me. My phone only worked while I was in WIFI and we planned to meet the next evening. I went to sleep that night high as fuck in a room with 20 strangers.

          I woke up the next morning and headed out again. Since I was only going to be here two more days I went into a coffeeshop to start my morning. After smoking another joint I decided to go to the Van Gough museum. I didn’t really know Van Gogh’s art, but I had just went to the Louvre in Paris and I was in Europe, that’s what you do.

          As I was walking around the gallery I was thinking of what my next step in life was going to be. Then I came across one of his letters to his brother Theo and the words spoke to my soul and still do.

“I needn’t rush myself, for that does no good – but I must carry on working in calm and serenity” 7 August 1883.

          A tear fell from my eye in the middle of the gallery as I read that. I needed to see those words at that moment.  I rushed around all the time. Working at a job where you had to rush around, rushing to school while stuck in traffic, and rushing to figure out my next step in life. I didn’t need to rush. It doesn’t do anyone any good. So, I stopped rushing in that moment and slowly walked through the rest of the gallery.

          When I was back outside, I remembered the guy, I was messaging last night but I needed to go somewhere with Wi-Fi. I went into a coffeeshop. I bought a joint and sat down. He messaged me telling me the bar he would be at that night. I told him about my Wi-Fi situation but that I would try to make it. I started walking around again, high as fuck. I loved Amsterdam.

          As I was walking along, a girl came up to me asking for directions. After that first night of getting all turned around, I knew exactly where I was, always. I didn’t want to get lost again. She was an American girl from the east coast who was doing a semester abroad in Paris. Wow! I thought to myself. She rented a bicycle and didn’t remember where she parked it. She was high. We began walking around and went into a coffeeshop together, I wish I could remember what we talked about, but I don’t. This girl and I continued to get higher and higher through the evening. By the end of the night, we were so high that I don’t remember how we said goodbye. I do know that she found her bike.

          I got back to the hostel and had numerous messages from the guy I had plans meeting earlier. I messaged him that I ended up meeting a girl and we walked around getting high all night. He said he understood, and I went to bed. The next morning, I woke up and it was my last day in Amsterdam. I messaged the guy and told him I would meet him later for sure. I needed to have sex in Europe. I strolled around all day, walking in and out of coffee shops and enjoying every minute.

          That night I dressed up in something nice and was meeting a French man at a bar in the center of town. As I sat there waiting, I noticed that a few crisp leaves were beginning to fall. I had a glass of wine and still could not believe this was happening. I saw the man I was meeting at the front entrance. I stood up and waved at him to get his attention. He walked over and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. We sat down, and he lit a cigarette. We started talking and I told him I was visiting from the USA. He was originally from France and lived in Korea for five years. He had a son who was half Korean who lived in Korea with his mom. I loved hearing a story from a man who was my age who grew up on the other side of the world. He also lived up to the stereotypes of the French being romantic. At one point he took my hands and spoke to me in French while he looked straight into my eyes. It felt like I was in a movie. Who was this guy and where was I? It was unreal.

The next morning, we woke up and he made me coffee. My flight was at 10:00 and I still had to go get my stuff from the hostel and check out. I jumped on the train and looked at the clock. Shit, I didn’t think I would make it. I got off the stop where I met him the night before. I ran to my hostel through the streets of Amsterdam. I was going to be so late. I got to the hostel, ran to my locker, opened it, and grabbed everything inside. I threw it in my backpack and rushed to check out. I didn’t have time to grab a taxi, so I just ran my ass off to the airport. Amsterdam is very small, and I booked it. I was sweating when I arrived at the airport. I checked in and got in line for security. I had my backpack on and put it into the scanner. It beeped so they had to take it out. There was a water bottle in it. They threw it away and I got through. My fucking gate was the last gate in the airport. I was running as fast as I could through that airport. Sweating and everything. I got to the gate as the last twenty people were boarding. If I would have showed up five minutes later. I would have missed my flight! I sat in my assigned seat, sweating, and probably smelled. I looked down at the shirt I was wearing. I had bought it from Katy specifically for this trip. It was made from a bamboo material and had the ability to be worn four different ways. This was the first time I wore it and as I looked at it while sitting on that plane I smiled and felt so much love inside.  I was off to my third destination and where I would spend my 31st birthday, Barcelona, Spain.