“Relax, you’ll be fine! You’re finally coming to North America. The True North they call it.”, my brother’s words resonated in my sleepy head, as I flew miles above the ground in my Lufthansa carrier. Had I really heard those words or was I imagining them? The phone conversation with him just minutes before my 3 a.m. flight was a hazy memory; just some muffled words in my ears, that had now popped, thanks to the altitude.
I desperately wanted to believe him. Leaving much more than just my country behind, my heart weighed heavy in my chest. Apart from the inevitable moving away from parents, leaving behind a well-paying, secure job and a long-term relationship, for good, is no easy feat. There was just too much at stake. All my apprehensions, in that moment, decided to catch up with me. Queasy, clouded and high up in the sky – recipe for disaster!
In a desperate attempt to distract myself, I turned on my phone to read some offline articles about Canada that I had downloaded. Something light for now, I reckoned.
“Words and phrases Canadians use way too often” – the heading drew me in. Scrolling down, I found myself smiling. Some of these words were just funny. I mean, who would have imagined that Loonie or Toonie were actually money! Then there were the “Eh?”, “I know right!” – pretty standard… ‘Timmies”, “Double-double” – okay some of these made no sense. I went back to my musings and waited for the first leg of the journey to be over.
The plane landed at Frankfurt in the morning. I was changing planes for Toronto here. With an hour and a half to kill, I was in no rush. I stepped out of the plane, the backpack on my shoulders and the handbag in tow. Taking random pictures and reading the ubiquitous flyers about the upcoming Oktoberfest, I made it to the security check-in. The crisp morning air, the waft of aromas from fresh pretzel rolls and the general convivial European vibe had managed to calm my nerves. I smiled at the officer at the checkpoint and asked if I had to place the laptop in the tray. He shook his head sideways, answering in the negative. I placed my bags on the conveyer belt and proceeded to be frisked.
“Is this your bag?” the tall, hefty man at the end of the security line asked me. I managed a faint “Yes”. “We have received an explosives alert while scanning it. We have to check the contents of your bag. Please step aside while I call the police”.
It was like some ridiculous movie plot. I mean, what were the odds? I tried to keep my cool. I knew there was nothing in the bag to elicit this procedure. And yet, their stern expressions built an air of hostility, giving rise to fear. The Indian gentleman next to me, significantly older and clearly a more frequent and confident flyer than myself guffawed, “They’re unnecessarily making it more difficult to travel these days. Only last month I was….”. His voice trailed off as I saw two even taller and heftier looking police officers march in my direction.
They began emptying the contents of my bag. Everything, ranging from my laptop to the used tissues wadded in a corner, was pulled out and checked thoroughly. Nothing! They checked and re-checked. And then had a little discussion amongst themselves.
The security personnel told me it was probably just the laptop. He asked me if I wasn’t told to put it in a separate tray at the entry, to which I replied that I indeed wasn’t, despite asking explicitly if I should. To this, he said in disbelief, “That is not possible, miss. That is his job.” I wanted to argue but decided against it. I had a plane to catch and was simply relieved that I was free to go.
I picked up my laptop bag and queued up for the Air Canada flight. The stewardess, Wendy, at the entrance, greeted me with a very polite “Good morning and Welcome!” That put me instantly at ease. I found my seat and strutted towards it. I took off my backpack and placed it on the seat. Next, I reached out for the other bag to place in the overhead bin. And that is when it happened! There was no other bag!
In all the commotion at the security check-in, I had forgotten to pick up the other bag. And this was no insignificant piece of luggage. No sir! This was the bag that held my landing papers, all of my foreign currency, degree certificates – EVERYTHING! In a nutshell, if I landed without this bag, I would be either held at the airport or sent back. The worst part, however, was that I had already boarded the onward place. This was pretty much irreversible. Dizzy and delirious, my blood ran cold.
And then, I RAN. I ran blindly, past the confused co-passengers, a very scared Wendy, past the tens of airline staff at random intervals right until the boarding gate. Out of breath, hands shaking, legs spasming out of control, I held out my boarding pass and my passport to the airline staff. Took me three attempts to explain to her what was happening. She said it was already too late and that it would take me forever to locate my bag. I refused to listen to her. I said it would take me only minutes to return with my bag if she just let me go. In my dazed state of mind, I had completely forgotten that the security gates were actually 3 levels above the boarding gate.
Nevertheless, I somehow managed to talk her into letting me making one final dash for it. I ran like I had never ever before in my life. At this moment, even if had found a bag of gold lying on the ground, I wouldn’t stop to pick it up. Asking for directions in my squeaky, nervous voice, to anyone and everywhere who made eye contact, I finally managed to reach the security gates. And there it was! Lying there innocuously, as if saying to me “How could you!”
I grabbed it and ran again. This time, with optimism. I knew I would make it. I was possessed. Past the escalators, almost knocking the Oktoberfest tout, past women with perfectly coiffed hair and men with almost none – past those three levels that stood between me and my goal. I made it, as promised, within 10 minutes. Superhuman! The airline staff shook her head, rolled her eye and let me past the gate.
I reflected on the events of the past hour and then on the past month. Both had been supremely difficult for me. Both took superhuman strength to overcome. Both seemed like ridiculous feats, but in both scenarios, I knew I wouldn’t give up without a fight. I had known the right thing to do. I had made it back to the plane with the bag. I was fine. I was now headed to Canada. My brother was right. I was going to be fine.
Wendy welcomed me again. She sensed I had left my bag and successfully retrieved it. “Crazy, eh?”, she quipped. “I know right!”, pat came my reply.
