First Class Arrival

TOKYO

As I type this blog, I am 7 hours deep into my flight to Tokyo. Under normal circumstances, I would probably be experiencing cabin fever, but we were lucky enough to be dealt extraordinary circumstances. After a blurry, rushed morning, Kelsey and I and all of our family reached gate F2 in hopes that we would get a seat on this flight. Flying standby is risky. Whether we were separated in coach or flying first class, we didn’t care, we just wanted to be in the air. After the Delta agent worked silently on his computer and tons of people boarded, we still stood holding our breath.

“Good news,” he said handing us two boarding passes. “You two are flying first class side by side.”

Tears started flowing. Weeks of accumulated stress and work and worry had finally culminated into the most perfect start to our journey, VIP style. I hugged Kels in happiness, relief and shared congratulations for our long road of preparation ending in a job well done. 

Tears continued as the line trickled away and they called our name for final boarding. There stood my beautiful family, who, for the next 10 months, I will only see on my computer screen. I hugged my daddy first, and when he said, “I love you baby,” I couldn’t hold back. My mom, who had begged me not to cry, was next. You don’t realize how prominent a person’s presence is in your life until you’re saying goodbye. My sister was next and this was especially heart-wrenching because I will be gone for her first college experiences. But I expect to be getting email attachments to edit, and I couldn’t be more eager to help her from half way across the globe.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, we rolled our carry on bags through the gate and turned around for one last wave. Through the foggy tears, I tried to meet eyes with each member of my family and hold onto their gaze, taking it with me.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Kelsey reassured me like she always does.

And here I am, reclined in a roomy seat with hundreds of movies at my fingertips, pillows, slippers, headphones and all the free champagne I want! After a four course meal and a glass of wine, I settled back, sort of wishing the flight was longer than fourteen hours. I am 35,000 feet in the air and as close to heaven as I’ve ever been. And closer to Russia too because we just crossed the International Dateline.

BANGKOK

Sitting through a long layover in Tokyo, we were finally called to the desk to get our tickets. After having flown in the most prestigious of first class seating, moving to separate coach seats would be a sad downgrade. Luckily though, we got our tickets (which happened to be beside one another) and made our way to the back of the line.

Moments later an agent held up sign beckoning “premium” riders to a non-existent line. We looked at our tickets, saw the word premium, and wandered toward the gate, daring not look at each other for fear of jinxing what we thought to be true. We bypassed the line and went through a gate that ushered us into yet another first class flight. We were speechless. Sprawling out on our expanding seats after a nice dinner of veal and champagne, we slept contentedly for the next 5 hours, only waking up 15 minutes before the plane wheels touched down in Thailand. 

Here I sit, in the Bangkok airport, still not believing our first class experience and waiting patiently for the ticket counter to open for our next and final flight to Lampang. It’s nearly 2 am here, so we decided to find some chairs to get a little sleep until our flight at 6 am. Being spoiled to a bed, I couldn’t drift off on these cold metal chairs, so I grabbed a sweater and began watching passersby. Then, out of nowhere, two extremely trendy Thai guys wandered toward me, and in broken English, asked for a picture. I smiled and reached for the camera to snap their picture, but they shook their heads. One of the boys came over to me, put his arm around my shoulder and threw up a peace sign. Shocked, I smiled toward the iPhone, and we took a picture together. Then they switched, and I got a picture with the other. I’d like to think the picture was because I looked super American, and they thought of the snapshot as a souvenir, but if it was at my expense because of my disheveled hair and makeup, I wouldn’t mind. Maybe this sort of admiration (or harmless gawking) will continue- It’s nice to feel appreciated, even if it is just for a random picture with an Asian guy.

And so the journey begins.

            We had just topped a curvy, mountain road, and biked down the other side of the mountain loop when Kelsey expressed her homesickness for traveling. Having backpacked across Europe last summer, she was no stranger to the thrill of adventure. Kelsey had moved to Chattanooga, where I was also resident, only a couple of months prior, and having sensed an adventurous nature akin to mine with only a glance at her Facebook profile, I knew we had a lot in common.

           

            Without hesitation, I suggested we go somewhere new, somewhere with a purpose in mind. She mused aloud, tossing out the idea of teaching abroad, an idea I immediately accepted. So many instances in my life, I’ve heard people express their desire to do memorable things, never actually following through. I vow never to be that person. And that's the day I knew we were going to Thailand.

            How relevant of a metaphor those 30 miles of mountain terrain became as I looked back on the day I spoke the idea aloud, thus giving it life. For several weeks thereafter, we spent every spare moment learning about foreign cultures in which we dared immerse ourselves. But how would we save for such a trip?

            Within a whirling span of 2 weeks, a time on which I now reflect without the slightest recollection of detail, we made the decision to move home to our college town, a place we vowed never to return yet were so reluctant to leave. Laying low for a several months, I tried to avoid conversations of "Why are you back?" for fear of being thought of as the one who'd given up. Worries aside, the past seven month have possibly been among the most blessed and amazing of my life to date. Untapped opportunity, cherished time with my family, a once-in-a-lifetime friend and an unprecedented trip are among the things I’ve gained.

            A few weeks ago, as I mentally prepared for a Skype interview, I wondered if it might finally yield the answers we'd been wanting. Nirund Jivasantikarn, president of a Thai University, was about to hand us the dream for which we’d been relentlessly searching. I learned about Dr. Nirund's desire to unite Thai and American culture and his keen interest in the English language. He humbly expressed to us the prestige of his organization, one which sent out only the most qualified to infiltrate local schools and be their primary teachers, instilling them with proficient speaking skills, writing abilities and an interest in literature.

            Signing a 10 month contract, we are now entrusted with young lives we've yet to meet. We embrace the fact that we will be without certain luxuries and living with meager means not unlike the people we will be serving, but that in itself is an experience. We aren't expecting American fast food, ample air condition or for our hair to cooperate in Thailand's 100% humidity. Being able to relate to a person half way across the globe will hopefully give me the human awareness I need to come back home and appreciate the aspects of life I take for granted every day. Putting aside materialism and appearance yet being accepted and revered by a culture is a true testament to that culture's true character and the importance it places in relationships. I'm not even there yet, and I miss them.

            We leave for a flight across the globe on May 28th and fly into Lampang, Thailand to begin our adventure. Really though, the adventure began that day last Fall when we decided to take this journey. Mine and Kelsey's commonness and friendship has grown abundantly since the time we biked over that mountain, and I know it will be strengthened on this trip. I couldn't think of anyone else with whom I'd rather share such an adventure. For her dedication to this vision, I am truly an admirer.

            As for the wonderful family I will be leaving 12 hours behind, they are my anchor. Not an anchor keeping me stagnant, but in a figurative sense, my foundation and my home. My mom, from a military family, lived in Thailand for several years of her childhood, so I feel as if my trek is only a nostalgic continuation of that adventure from decades ago. Being the avid yet amateur writer I am, I will be keeping folks back home updated with blog posts. But if this is that last you hear about the girl from Gadsden who moved to Thailand, just be comforted by the fact that small town people can indeed do extraordinary things.