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.
“Hi, are you with the exchange program?” I asked.
For the first time, I was able to see the women holding the sign. She was about forty, was wearing a pair of sunglasses and was short and a little chubby, in a friendly sort of way.
“Yeah, my name is Rose, you must be Alex.”
“Alec, but don’t worry, people make that mistake all the time.”
“Alec,” she pronounced it slowly, as if it was foreign, which, I suppose in some ways it was. “I’m parked outside, are you ready to go?”
“Yup.” I said. There didn’t seem much point in staying in the airport much longer.
“Okay then.” Rose said. “Welcome to the city of angels.”
For the next hour we took a scenic route through L.A. and I was amazed at how large it was. It was nothing like London. Instead of businessman in suits and holding briefcases, the city was full of young people. Every five seconds we would pass a coffee shop and it would be packed with people working on apple laptops.
“Wannabe writers.” Rose said.
“What?” I asked.
“The people you’re looking at, they think that in order to write something good they have to be drinking expensive coffee.”
“How come you know that?” I asked, not entirely sure if I believed it, I mean, they couldn’t all be writers.
“Because back in the day I used to be one.” Rose said.
She continued talking, telling me about the city, why she had moved to the suburbs and the crime and corruption that existed. But I was lost. The Hollywood sign had just come into view and we were driving towards it.
“Its an advertisement you know.”
“What?” I said, frustrated about being jolted out of the semi trance.
“You know, I thought you Brits were polite! Didn’t your mum ever teach you to say pardon me?”
“Yes.” I said, quietly.
“That’s okay, I’m just joking.” Rose said in her characteristically loud way. “ I was just saying that the Hollywood sign was actually built as an advertisement for a housing estate. I always think that is one of the only honest things in the city. We turned an advert into a landmark. But I guess it’s totally different in England right? All that history?”
I spoke about England and how the weather was terrible and the reasons that I wanted to come to California.
As we drove out of the city I went to sleep. Even though it was 3PM in L.A. my body still thought it was in England. Plus I had been up for a long time. I never sleep on planes.
I woke up sometime later and we were outside of the city, driving down residential streets.
“Are we there yet?” I asked with a smile.
“Actually, yes.” Rose said as we pulled into a driveway.
The sun was setting and so it was pleasantly warm outside the air condition car. I lugged my bag and wheeled it up to the door.
Rose opened the door and called out to her husband. The house smelled of cooking. Meat. Possibly chicken. It was only now that I realised how hungry I was.
I was looking at a short corridor, with two doors on the left hand side, one door at the end, and a staircase on the right. I could vaguely hear music coming from upstairs. It sounded suspiciously like punk.
From out of one of the doors came a man, heavily built, with a pink face, as if he drank too much alcohol. He was smiling and greeted me with an energetic handshake. It was a world of difference from the cold demeanour of my father.
“Hi Alex,” he said, “my name is Bob and I’m the ruler of this little family.”
“Hi,” I said. “Um, its actually Alec, but whatever.” I wasn’t trying to be difficult but I wished the company hadn’t spelt my name wrong on the form. Maybe I should just change my name. Might be easier.
“Alec, I’m really sorry about that.” He said. Bob then held up one of his fingers. “I just realised that Kimberly isn’t here.” He turned to Rose. “Honey, do you mind getting her? I think its time to eat anyway.”
“I can do it,” I offered. I figured a meeting with my new sister would be less awkward if there were no adults around.
“Okay then.” Rose said, “You go upstairs and it’s the second door on the right.”
The stairs were covered in a thick carpet that was comfortable even through my converse. The upstairs seemed similar to the downstairs, except there was orange light streaming in from a skylight.
I knocked on the second door on the right. The music was louder hear and I could identify that it was the Ramones. At least this Kimberly had good tastes.
The door opened and I was greeted with by a girl of about 17 wearing scowl. She had a phone that she was holding to her shoulder by cocking her head. “Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Alec, I’m an exchange student?” The directness of her question had surprised me. I took a breath and regained my composure. “Uh, your Mum and Dad wanted me to tell you that its time to eat.”
“Fine.” She sighed, as if eating food was a massive waste of her time. “Come in, I just need to finish something.”
She opened the door and I walked in. Posters lined the walls in a disorganised way as if they had simply been slapped on. Indie bands, movies, and print outs of digital photographs. There was no doubt about it, the room had a personality.
I sat down on her bed, as she stood beside her desk. The desk had two computers, a laptop and a desktop, both macs. She typed something which I can only presume was, ‘sry gtg’ into the desktop and waved into the laptops webcam.
Done already, she walked out of the room expecting me to follow her. I took one last look around the room.
“Hey, Johnny English, get the hell out of my room.” There was a fair amount of aggression in her voice.
“Oh, sorry” I said, and quickly walked out. I didn’t want to get on her bad side, at least, not on the first day.
So it turned out that I was only half right about the food. It was chicken, but it wasn’t exactly homemade. I recognised the buckets as being from KFC and immediately felt very at home. We used to live less than a minute from a KFC, although I guess being London, everyone does!
I sat down, and then suddenly felt extremely awkward. Would I be expected to pray? How long should I wait to eat, what was-
My doubts were laid to rest as Bob grabbed a piece of chicken from the bucket and was immediately admonished by Rose.
“Robert! Offer some to our guest first!”
There was an impish grin in Bob’s eyes as he said “But I thought the point of the program was for him to be our son!” He pushed the bucket towards me, “here you go.”
The first dinner was surprisingly un-awkward. Rather than attempt to include me too much, I was allowed to simply listen to the conversation. I must admit, the dinner seemed to be a sort of tennis match: Rose attempting to draw Kim into the conversation and Kim quashing her attempts in as few syllables as possible.
After a while Rose suggested that Kim take me out and show me around. After throwing several plates (note: not a metaphor) Kim agreed.
Kim’s car was parked outside, I mean, how annoying is that?! In America you can drive at 16!
I looked over at the house opposite. A girl about my age was taking the rubbish out. Kim saw me looking. “That’s Emily. She’s in the same grade as you.”
“Oh.” I said hoping that by saying nothing Kim would volunteer more information.
Now, I know its not exactly the typical love at first sight situation, I mean it’s a girl taking out the rubbish. But there was something about Emily.
“Look, do I really have to take you with me?” Kim said.
“Well, I guess if you really don’t want too”-
Before I had even finished my sentence Kim had kissed me on the cheek, got in her car and drove away.
“Um… Bye?” I said, into the darkness.
“She ditched you huh?” Came a voice from behind a large rubbish bag. ‘Emily’ threw the bag onto the pile and came over. “Guess it sucks to be you.”