Company of (more than) One

January 1st, that was the day I would get on a plane from San Francisco, and fly back to the Midwest after 8 years in California.

My brother drove across the high bridges while I peered below at the sparkling ocean waterways. Passing through the city, I couldn't help thinking about the last time I was here. That was when I flew to Europe. I sat in between an obliging Frenchman who helped me with my passport, and a middle-aged Brit on his cell phone, eagerly advising his high school kid about the likelihood that he (she?) would get accepted into a California University. Funny thing, I don't actually remember flying home from that trip at all. Sometimes I wonder if part of me is still walking around over there.

* * *

We pulled up to the curb. At least, that was the intent. First we warmed up the pavement as we drove around the airport 4 times trying to spot the American Airlines sign. Ah, there it was! Ethan unloaded by bags while I quickly tried to snatch a handful of books from my luggage to stick into my backpack. With all my heavy sweaters, winter boots, over 30 lbs. of books for school, plus other odds and ends, I knew my luggage weight was just teetering over the limit. A security guard began probing the empty Prius my brother had left to help me. "I have to go." One last hug, and I saw him turn to leave. I can't believe how he has grown up! This new season is going to carry lots of changes for both of us.

The plan was to get my luggage checked at the door so I would be free to walk through security. Ethan pulled away as I waved and tried to keep my luggage near. I scooted my things awkwardly up to the baggage scale, where a smiling Asian man was just telling another passenger about a delayed flight. "Was that the 10:50 for flight 23?" I asked. On the drive in I found the plane would be delayed, and was anticipating the friendly baggage attendant to say the same thing. He entered my reservation number. "Oh, no!" He looked up, "You're not scheduled to fly out of here until 12:30am tomorrow morning. I am so sorry!"

What? My mind traced back to the chaotic events of the morning as things began to make sense.

It was all a slightly frenzied start. I think I knew 6:30am would be a tad tight to get myself and my luggage out of the door. Still, after a slight night of sleep, I slogged, struggling to get my last few items off my bathroom vanity and into my suitcase.

Smiles from Mom, and a tender morning hug. I smelled the green juice she was making fresh. My dad wanted me to wake him for a final hug goodbye. Those hugs will be cherished. I would miss them so! At 7:10 my brother and I pulled out, and I knew I would need to make some luggage adjustments. It was slow getting out the driveway, but once Ethan and I were on the freeway, I began checking my flight on my phone. That's weird, that doesn't look like any of my flight info. I tried again. Still, my screen was reading for a departure on Friday morning, the very next day. What is going on? A little red circle alerted me to an unread voicemail, something I must have ignored yesterday. Now listening I heard the robotic operator, "We are sorry to inform you that your flight has been canceled...etc. etc." What? Could that be! Still, my flight number registered as only being delayed an hour. What now? Did that mean I should turn around go home? That might be nice... Maybe I could figure out these suitcases better. But what if I missed my flight? I called the airport and was quickly told that yes, the flight was only delayed an hour, and yes my takeoff was for midnight. Okay? This has never happened to me before. As the lady explained, my brain registered that my Dallas flight was the one that was delayed so long. Ok, well I guess that settles it. 

Standing here in San Fransisco alone with my bags, I realized this wasn't the case. "Maybe you would like to check inside if they can get you on an earlier flight so you're not stuck here all day. I'm so sorry. Would you like me to watch your bag for you?" The man pushed up the sides of his black-rimmed glasses with his thick hands. I thanked him breathlessly, and waddled inside with the rest of my things.

The line was stretched out slowly, and I was begging to get anxious about making it through security in time for an earlier flight. Disoriented and unsure, I knocked my 2 bags over as "Next, please" called from the counter. An older man with narrow shoulders took my ticket, and I began to explain my predicament. The man typed for some minutes, his fingers insistingly probing the keys while his tired, dark eyes searched the monitor's unblinking glare. There. He clicked, and looked up, handing me a new ticket for a 1:10pm flight that day. What relief! Sharing my thanks, I hoisted my things up and watched the scale. Breath in... 2 lbs. under. Later I smiled, as #livingontheedge shot from my phone to Ethan's. Thanking the man again, I turned away, and saw his hand briefly touch his chest as he nodded and unlocked a smile beneath those tired eyes. It was like he was accepting a blessing.

The glass doors swished by. Tingling morning air. I clipped through the people and bags to return to that first baggage stand. The friendly Asian man turned to me and smiled, "Did they get you on a new flight?" I grabbed my sideways black roller bag, "Yes, thank you so much!" He waved, and I was off. Sliding towards security, I was startled when the guard stopped me, dropping my polka-dot wallet  while I tried to juggle my coat with my backpack. "Hold on Ma'am, this is too big. They won't let you on the airplane with that. You are carrying too much!" He placed my bag over the carry-on sizing rack. It didn't fit. "Take this back to the counter so they can check it for you." Check it? Gripping the handle, I turned around again. Oh, Rebekkah, Rebekkah. What were you thinking? If this bag were checked, I would get a huge fee. I had measured the bag yes, but unthinkingly had measured before filling it with my things!

Again in the same line, I stood now with a different kind of growing anxiety. Called up, I approached the counter where a tight lipped woman in a blue blazer stood waiting. Stammering why I had come back, I handed the women my ticket, and she looked up in surprise, "Oh! You've already checked bags! This one would be $150." Shoot. "I was afraid of that... My brother should be nearby, can I just call him and have him come pick up my bag outside?" The women shook her head slightly and waved her hand like she was brushing away cobwebs, "No, I won't be here then." She began typing while my thoughts tried to keep pace. If I could get my bag to Ethan, He could just ship me anything I needed later, I just don't want to get stuck in security if... "Would you like to fly on the 11:15 or the 1:10." What was she asking? "I, I don't know, is one of them cheaper?" She shook her head again, gold rims catching the artificial light above. "There is no difference. I just need to know which flight you want." I'm so confused. "Um, why don't we keep the 1:10." She offered me back my Drivers License and printed out a new slip of paper while I still held my debit card. SLAP. My roller bag was flagged with a sticker and the whole thing swiftly lifted onto the checking belt. She turned back to me and nodded, "You're all set to go. It's been taken care of." She wasn't even going to charge me. I was struck. She smiled through those thin lips and wished me off. I couldn't believe it, what an incredible blessing! If I doubted it before, I knew then that God was with me, guiding me and helping me by placing people in my path. I made my way toward security and smiled at the old guard as I entered the line. It felt good to be traveling lightly, but it felt better to be ushered on by the unexpected kindness of other souls. And I hadn't even gotten on a plane yet.

Those many hours before my flight I ordered a tea from Peet's and sat down to update my family about the changed flight plans. Chapters read, tea sipped, and new gates noted, I got up to stretch my legs for a bit. Wandering around, I stumbled upon a little yoga room tucked away in a dark corner. Peeking in I saw mats strewn about haphazardly with all the lights turned off. Well that's kind of creepy. I returned back to my gate, and the airport personnel were making announcements, something about checking updates on connecting flights in Denver. Well, I'd better go up, maybe they can update me on my gate. Tugging my ticket out of my sage green journal I went up to ask the brown eyed woman behind the counter."I'm sorry ma'am we're not taking those right now."
"Oh, ok. Sorry about that." My eyes darted across the waiting area as I turned back around toward my seat.

Finally, the waiting area started to clear. Priority, Ruby, Emerald, bling bling. One group after another got up to line up. With only half a dozen people left, I was still waiting for my group to be called. The dark eyed lady scanned the space and caught my eye. "What are you doing all the way over there? You probably can't hear us!" She waved me over with her pretty, thin bronzed hand and a big smile spread across her face. A bit embarrassed, I smiled back and stepped toward the back of the line. The lady then called me over, "Now, let's go ahead and check your connection. We just don't like to mess with the systems over there so early." Another airport employee had joined her behind the counter and started searching the flight schedules. The man leisurely informed me that while I had a tight connection, other planes would likely be delayed because of the spotty cold weather. He hoped my gates would stay the same because they were only a hanger apart. "Fingers crossed." The woman gently took my ticket, and ripped it in half! She printed out a new slip of paper, she smiled as she handed it to me, "This will seat you closer to the front, so you can get out quicker." The two of them wished me warmly off, and I happily ambled down the corridor to board the plane.

Sitting down, I found myself sharing a row with a guy on his way to Florida. While being born and raised in Paris, he was temporarily settled in Miami. As I shared how I was off to Missouri, he told me he had an office in St. Louis. "I visited there in February." He said with his identifiably Parisian accent. "I did not like it." Hours passed and finally we landed in Texas. Knowing I had a tight connection, the young man said to me, "I would push to the front if I were you, so you don't miss your flight." I thanked him and turned to go, but was obstructed by other people clogging up the narrow isle. Another young guy wearing a baseball cap was going to Wichita, and turning slightly back, he said to me over his shoulder, "I'm trying to get out of here too, so you can just follow me." I said thanks and followed his red nylon backpack. "Excuse us, we're going to miss our connection. Excuse me sir, can we get through?" Telling my mom about this little episode later, she laughed. Knowing me, I probably would have just waited and been too polite for my own good!

Clearing the isle, I found myself outside the plane. "Where are you headed?" I asked.
"B hanger."
"Me too." He started to veer toward the left. "I think this way is quicker," I offered. We hiked up our backpacks and started hitting the floor at a run. Oh dear. These books aren't helping right now. Whether or not my thick leather backpack was making me lag, I suspected my fellow traveler graciously slowed his pace a little. I don't think chivalry is dead. At least, not in Kansas.

In and around the horseshoe-shaped Dallas terminals, we ran up and down escalators, angled between passing people, trying to pitch our aim and land at the right marker. No time for fouls. There, the B terminal was in sight, and we pulled up our backpacks higher and made ready for a final dash. Mr. Wichita turned to me and said, "I'm gonna have to leave you now." He nodded me farewell and sprinted off. About to heave through the hanger's opening, I looked up to my right. There it was! My gate. I stopped and tried to catch my breath. I'd made it. Jesus, we made it! The plane had even been delayed 20 minutes because of freezing rain. I sat down next to a pretty blond girl with a syrupy Mississippi accent who was trying to rejoin her husband. We swapped stories for a few minutes until she heard over the loud speakers that her gate had been changed again. "Happy New Year!" and then she was off.

I boarded my plane, and almost wished the short flight was longer so I could fully think over the happenings of the day. But we were here! I had arrived, and soon found myself reunited with my dear grandparents in the deserted Springfield lobby. Though I started out the unexpected adventure of the day as a company of one, by the time I crashed into bed that night I felt I had been aided by so many dear souls.

The best part of all this? My adventure is really just beginning.