#02: My Arrival.

A flash of light, the sky is entirely illuminated, just for a moment, then a suffocating darkness again. My heart races. Lightning. The plane has begun it’s descent. Despite our delayed take off, we’re landing right on time, it’s just gone 8pm and it feels like midnight. My body clock is confused, I’ve not slept and my muscles ache. Irregardless of the weather, we land smoothly, the captain wishes us a nice night, the passengers don’t applaud.
Next stop: customs. The walk isn’t too long but my bag straps have returned to their cutting into my skin as I walk, I’d put on my other jacket  for resistance but I’m too hot, too stuffy. I’ve not had a breath of fresh air since 1:30, nearly 24 hours ago I guess. How gross. The queues aren’t too long but they’re taking forever, the Federal officers, I think that’s what they’re called, are taking finger prints of everyone they speak with. I’m dreading it already. I move up the line and take out my passport, it doesn’t look much like me anymore, it expires in October. I get called up, it’s my turn. He’s very polite, a very Southern drawl to his voice, a handlebar moustache. I hate to stereotype but… he asks me how I am, how long I’m in the country for, where am I going, what am I doing here, who am I staying with, for my finger prints, he takes my picture - all necessary security devices I imagine. We chat, he’s friendly but he’s doing his job. He asks me what my Aunt and Uncle do to which I’m rendered clueless, I tell him my Uncle was in the Military and he retired just recently, my cousin just graduated high school and my other cousin works in a health store, I told him other than that I really, actually don’t know. “Now Emily,” he says, “you’re in the country for a mighty long time, how do you plan to financially sustain yourself?” I stumbled over my tongue as I told him I’d saved up enough and that my Mum would send me dollars if I needed them via my bank. “Huh, ok.” There’s a pause as he looks at me, I smile. “So you’re not planning to work illegally are you?” I’ve practically gone from bomber to immigrant in the space of a few hours. “God no, Sir! Not at all. I’ll be too busy enjoying your fine country to want to work. I just finished college, this is just a nice, long break for me.” I guess I sound sincere because he hands me back my passport and my visa form. “This red mark here, Emily, is where I was going to send you in for further, intensive questioning, but I changed my mind because you seem like you ain’t gonna do nothing illegal now so this red mark here says you’re alright. Now, when you hand this in they’re gonna look at this for a while but you’re ok, because I’ve said so. You don’t gotta worry, ok.” I tell him I’m on my best behaviour this coming ten weeks, I promise, and thank you very much. He sends me on my way to secondary checks which is just where I hand in my form and then I can be off. True to the guys word, when I hand in my form they do look at it for a while but decide it’s legit and let me on my way. I have to pee before I get my baggage. It doesn’t take too long to find a restroom in which I leave my bags on the counter outside the cubicle because, quite frankly, I’m too tired to faff about now. I splash my face and the cool water trickles down my neck, it’s greedily welcomed by my skin. It’s a glorious sensation. Back outside and our luggage is chugging round the carousel. I’ve spotted mine already, I’m about to haul ass with a bag on each shoulder and a suitcase when I spot trolleys. there’s a cacophony of hoorays echoing around my mind. This is exactly what I need, they cost $4 but right now, I couldn’t care less. Alas, it’s not meant to be, the stupid machine won’t take my money. I try the next one along and meet the same ends. I’m too tired to try another, I position my bags as best I can and follow the signs that say arrivals. I’m a bit nervous, I hope I dno’t look too shabby. I wonder who’s going to be there to pick me up. There’s excitement in my veins. I walk down the arrivals catwalk and recognise no one. I double check but still nothing. There is no one here to collect me. I breath in deep, there’s no point freaking out, let’s be rational about this I tell myself. They’re probably just held up because of the storm. I look out the window and the rain is just cascading from the sky, it’s relentless. That’s definitely it, I tell myself. I phone my mum to tell I’m safely on the ground and my current situation. She freaks out, starts fretting - do they know it’s today? I’m like yes of course Mother, what. It’s then she realises we have no contact number for the place of which I’m laying residence to while I’m here in this country, how did I not think to take anoyone’s number? I feel somewhat idiotic. I’ve now been sat an hour, perhaps there’s been an accident in the road and they’re waiting in the traffic, that happens, right? I’m trying to think of rational reasons as to why they could be an hour late. I’m sat alone, because everyone else has been collected and taken to where they belong. The whiteness, the cleanliness of the building just reflects the light, making it seem bigger, making me seem smaller and even more alone. It’s now an hour and a half and I’m bored. I pace but that doesn’t help. I can’t read, my mind is not in the right place to read. All I can tolerate is music. I realise I have to pee again, do I risk going to the toilet and hope they don’t turn up while I’m in there or do I wait and end up nearly peeing myself? I sit for a little longer to decide. No, I really, really, have to pee. I pick up my bags and make my way back to the toilet, bags in tow. I don’t even lock the door, my brain is no longer functioning with any sense of coherency whatsoever. Ugh. I’ve been here two hours and my mum phones, she tells me she’s phoned my Aunt in Florida and left a message on her answer machine, that my sister has left my number on all their Facebook walls with instruction to call me and to please, let me know what’s going on. I’ve been on the ground for perhaps two and a half hours now. My phone rings, a number I don’t recognise but the area code is 0013 and I know that’s America. Finally, someone. It’s my Aunt, she’s a gush of apologies and excuses. They didn’t think I landed until 10:19. I don’t know where they got that number from because I was never going to be that late. My Uncle is on his way, she tells me to sit tight and to keep an eye out. She keeps me on the phone while she phones him, tell hims where I am etcetera. All is well. I have to pee again but I’ll wait, I’ll go when he gets here. another fifteen minutes pass and finally he steps out of the elevator. I’ve never been this grateful to see him in my entire life. We talk the entire hours journey home until I nod off somewhere twenty minutes from destination. I wake up and we’ve pulled into the garage. An abundance of hugs and kisses and sorrys come my way but I don’t care anymore. I was waiting nearly three hours but I’m here now, that’s all that matters. A bacon sandwich is trust in front of my and I scoff it with appreciation, I pee, we talk, I go to bed. I find my pyjamas, i don’t even bother to wash my face or brush my teeth, I just collapse into bed with my iPod in and, I swear, I’m asleep before the first song has even finished playing.