In the Beginning

This is the first post from…China!!!! I’m here and have been for a few days now. It’s taken a little while to adjust, but I believe I’m getting the hang of things here in the Orient. It’s only been four days so far, and I’ve already done so much. Where to begin….? Ah yes! The flight:

4:51 is early. Terribly early. But I was willing to take the hit on account of that’s the time I needed to be up for my flight to Atlanta and eventually Shanghai. Stewart and I roused and dressed ourselves, blearily preparing to face the two days of flying ahead. Airport on time? No issue. Checking luggage? Pas problem. Heartfelt (albeit short) goodbyes? Pie. Security? Astonishingly easy. This is the point where I began to feel some trepidation. I have not been through airport security once without setting something off, having my bag run through a couple times, or being stopped and scanned myself. However, I was willing to accept this event as the start of something new. We got to the gate and hooked up with our fellow expatriates with plenty of time to board. We were seated and ready to takeoff ahead of schedule. This was another new occurrence, and now I knew something was wrong. My fears were confirmed as the pilot crackled over the PA of our little aircraft (that comes into play shortly) and announces that there is an immense amount of fog in Atlanta, and, though it is landable, no new flights are allowed to take off for the airport until runway space is cleared. Drat. The pilot raises our hopes a bit by calling it a “short” delay and saying we’d probably get preference because we were fueled and ready ahead of schedule. That was when he took a lighter to our Hindenburg of Hope. He told us it would be at least an hour until we could leave Nashville. For those of you who don’t know, I had a small window of leniency (sometimes called a short layover) between my flights. Our Nashville plane was originally intended to land at 8:37 and the flight for Shanghai was intended for departure at 9:45. Not much, but enough time to cross 5 concourses and board the plane without too much hassle or hurry. Well, I fell asleep and we took off with me out like a light; thanks Mizmom & Pops for 19 years of flight experience. Our plane made great time to Atlanta and we landed without issue. However, once we’d already taxied to the gate, we were informed it would be another 20 minutes to get a parking spot, even though there were plenty of open spaces. Time was crunching. Yikes. Like a sign from the airport gods, though, Stewart received a text telling us that our plane to Shanghai had been delayed to 10:00. A new sun shone. We weren’t out of the woods yet, however. The plane finally parked, docked, and began to unload. Four of us dashed straight off the plane and up the ramp. Now, remember how I said the plane was small? One of Stewart’s carry-ons was too large and had to be stowed. He got to wait impatiently for it, but, when offered a companion to stay with him, he shouted like that wounded friend in every war movie: “Go on without me! I’ll make it on my own!” Our hearts were heavy, but we had zero time to waste. We set off at a power-walk that rivaled that of a suburban mother in a velour tracksuit. Motoring along the airport corridor, we rounded the corner that took us the Halliest of Halls: the Concourse Connector Tunnel. John, Jason, Sarah, and myself set down the escalator at full tilt and hit the floor with a hefty momentum. Our hopes to catch a tram were dashed by a mocking sign of 1 minute, 32 seconds. Too long to wait (or so we thought). We pressed on, ticking off yard after yard of our 4000-foot journey. Passing Concourse B, we saw that, again, we had just missed the tram. Onwards. Keeping our gait, we hit Concourse C. 30 seconds. We three males decided that we could be halfway to Concourse D before the train even arrived and nearly there before it could park into the next terminal. Sarah had had enough; she dropped out of our race against the moving sidewalks and waited for the train. Pfft. Women. Onward we sped. Concourse D. 9:35. Time was whipping away. Then, like The Lady of the Lake rising from the deeps of her soggy abode, the doors for the tram opened. We lunged aboard at the first door only to find…..STEWART!!! He had made it, and, better than that, caught us. Still no sign of Sarah, but this was the boost we needed: a ride down the final 1000 feet and a comrade reunited with us. Oddly enough, though, the train hadn’t begun to move in the time it took for our reunion to cease. We should have been well on our way by now. “Is the train working?” we each wondered aloud in our own manner. John and I looked at each other decided to give it 30 seconds and then boot it. Ten seconds passed. 20. 30. Gone. We detrained, Stewart quickly taking the lead at full sprint, overlarge overnight bag clasped in both hands going left-right, left-right, left-right in front of him. We all followed suit, hitting the moving sidewalk at full tilt. There it was: Concourse E. The terminal from which all international flights originate and terminate. We were here. Almost. Up the escalator, two steps at a time. Checked the sign while running, and hurried past the food court. Down the hall, past the bathrooms, a cheer and fist pump from the janitor. As we made our final turn (a left turn, if I remember correctly) the PA crackled to life and named each of us still missing. No mention of Sarah. Did we hear that right? No time to worry now. Silly girl just had to wait for the train. Pfft. Women. We quickly indentified ourselves, scanned our boarding passes, and implaned. We’d made it. We spotted Louesa, who had wisely moved her flight from Nashville up an hour (mental note for next time). Now we could worry about Sarah. Had she made it? They were about to close the doors. There wasn’t anything we could do. And there she was. Nestled between two older Chinese women. I suppose waiting can pay off. Pfft. Men. We found our seats, Stewart and I settled in next to each other, and steeled ourselves for 15 hours in an aluminum bird over the continental US, Alaska, the Pacific Ocean, and Japan. Mission accomplished.