Have you ever noticed how airport gates are simultaneously happy and sad places? I mean, take me for example. On the one hand, I’m upset about leaving my home, my Dad and everything I’ve ever known that exists in this tiny little country. On the other hand, I am getting on a plane bound for California, and no matte r what, its gotta be better than boarding school.
Okay, maybe I should back up a little, like explain why I am getting on this plane. It’s kind of simple really: I needed a change. So when my Dad told me that he had been transferred again, this time to the Middle East I told him I wasn’t going to go to another boarding school.
See, I applied for this essay contest where you could do a year studying in California. You get a host family, make new friends and generally have an awesome time.
At least, that’s what the brochure said. Brochures don’t lie, right?
I took one last look back at my father, standing alone in the airport. I raised a hand, gesturing farewell.
“So I guess this is it.” I muttered to myself, and walked into the bright light of the tunnel.
Now at this point I could explain how the flight was, the terrible food and make a joke about the fat guy sitting next to me. Let be honest though: you’ve been on a plane. You know the way it is. So rather than that I am going to take this opportunity to introduce myself. My name is Alec. Right. That’s it. Yeah. I guess this explains why I never did so well in English. I guess you are just going to have to work out the rest for yourself.
Quick note, I really have to say that being an unaccompanied minor on a plane ROCKS! Seriously, the flight attendants are all really nice to you
“Ladies and gentleman we have begun our decent.”
I slipped my iPod into my ears as we landed. I know, I know, you’re not supposed to but the fat guy next to me had his in and was playing “Party in The USA,” loudly enough for the whole plane to hear. I hope goes deaf at some point. Somehow I doubt the plane will crash from two iPods.
So, I had to choose the song I wanted to be listening to as I got off the plane. It would have to be something appropriate. I briefly considered California, you know, the theme song to the O.C. but I decided that it was too clichÈ. I then considered California Dreaming but again decided against it. Finally I had it: Feels like Woah by Wes Carr. It really summed up my feelings.
Thanks to my indecisiveness the opening guitar chords of Feels Like Woah hit me just as the plane touched down.
I unbuckled my seatbelt. I could see skyscrapers and blue skies, a far cry from the cloudy Heathrow that I had left. The seatbelt sign switched off and I grabbed my bag. As I walked towards the door of the plane I was overcome by a feeling of being, finally, at home.
So I got off the plane in LAX… Wait, sorry, that’s party in the USA. Dammit I’m gonna have that song in my head. Wes Carr had long since finished, so I put my iPod in my pocket and took out my phone. I sent a quick text to my Dad and walked across the hot, sunlit tarmac into the arrivals terminal.
It was at this point that I realised that I didn’t know what the person I was meeting looked like. I didn’t even have a mobile phone number.
A security announcement interrupted my worry with a strong American accent informing me not to leave baggage unattended.
All around me were people reuniting, hugging, and I was reminded of something my friend said: “there is nothing worse than arriving at an airport, if no-one is there to greet you.” He was right.
Then out of the crowd of people I saw a large cardboard sign. I half expected it to read ‘Free Hugs’ or ‘Spare some change’ but it had a name ‘Alex Coleson.’ I went up to them.
