Escape from Fortress USA

I did not sleep the night before I left the USA. How could I sleep when I had booked myself a one-way ticket out of my home country with no idea of when I was to return? Most of the night was spent packing. Some of it was spent consoling friends who were calling in hysterics over my departure. "What will you do? Where will you go? You must promise to stay in touch" etc etc etc. Such conversations were touching, as I never figured I was that important to anyone outside of my immediate family. Ever wonder if anyone would care if you were no longer around? I had tried not to until that night, but I was relieved that there are those out there who really do care. To them I am eternally grateful.

In my family we have a tradition of bad luck when it comes to traveling. You name the horror story, and chances are we have lived through it. The day of my departure was no different. With an hour to go before my flight was to depart, I was still at home. This would be enough to unnerve even the most steadfast, and indeed, even I was biting my fingernails as my brother pulled into the driveway with the family car. "Sorry, had to get you a renewable battery recharger." Have you ever become so overwhelmed by rage that you almost blacked out? It does happen, almost a natural mechanism your body goes through to prevent you from committing homicide on the spot. Well, I was seeing stars as I took shotgun, hands clenched in tight, sweaty fists. We got to the airport with 25 minutes to go. Needless to say the farewell I would have liked to have had with my mother, who was in tears at this point, did not happen. It's ok bro, I'll try not to hold that against you.

At the automatic check-in station I punched in my entry code, only to be rejected because I had typed it incorrectly in my haste. I tried again, and this time it told me that automatic check-in was no longer available due to the proximity of the departure time. Great. Flash over to the check-in counter and the lady was telling me I'll have to take the next flight, which might get me into LAX 20 minutes before my connecting flight was to leave. I told her, as calmly as one could, that I could make it through the gate in time if she would please give me my boarding pass. She did, and wished me luck. In situations like this I hate being wished luck, because you never know which kind you will get.

Halfway through the security line I realized I left my sunglasses at the automatic check-in station. No big deal, they were free, not going back for them now. I brisked through security, grabbed my bag, threw my boots on without bothering to lace them, and made a mad dash for the gate, which was conveniently placed at the very end of the terminal. I made it to the gate while the last passengers in line are giving the ticket lady their boarding passes. Phew! I gave the lady my ticket and she scanned it. BEEP BEEP BEEP! A red light turned on. My heart skipped a beat. "This ticket is for the 9:00 AM flight." So this is the luck the lady at the check-in gave me. She printed me a boarding pass for the next flight, thinking that there was no way I would make my own. I ran over to the gate's check-in desk and asked the lady behind it to please print me my original pass for the flight that was <5 minutes from leaving. Even the ticket lady was on the loud speaker making the last call for all passengers. As she stepped away from the intercom and began to close the door, my heart was in palpitations. "NONONO, please, 2 more minutes!" She looked over to the lady behind the desk. "Sheila, can you get him on the flight or not. They need to go, and they need to go minutes ago." "Sure, sure, it's printing up now." Ticket in hand, I thanked Sheila once, but repeated it 10,000 times over in my head. A few minutes later I was in my seat. I made a call to my mom, and sang her some lines from John Denver's "Leaving on a Jet Plane". She began crying some more. I told her it would be ok, and that I loved her very much. What more could a son say?

I slept the whole way to LAX. It was a rather uneventful 2 hour layover, most of it spent slipping in and out of consciousness. While boarding my flight to Philadelphia, the overhead space ran out. And guess who they turned to first to start checking bags? Muah. Wonderful. The last thing I wanted to do was check my bag on a cross-country flight. The margin for error was low, but the impact would have been astronomical. As the lady checked my bag outside the plane door, she asked me what my final destination was. Even though I was heading to Bonn my last stop with this airline would be Dublin. I told her Dublin. She asked me what I was going to Dublin for. I told her I was going for the Irish spring. She told me she heard that was a lovely time to be in Ireland. I told her I was going for the soap. She handed me my checked bag slip with a look of scorn. I smiled cheerfully and took my seat.

In Philadelphia I found myself hungry and facing another 2 hour layover. With $40 burning a hole in my pocket, I ducked into the nearest cheese steak emporium and had one of Philly's finest. When that was over, I was left with ~$35. Not wanting to save it for Europe in anticipation of a crappy exchange rate, I took refuge in the nearest pub. There I proceeded to get hammered. It was going to be a long flight to Dublin, and I was particularly cranky at this point. Even though I had managed to get this far without any major disasters, spending that 4.5 hours in a tube from the West coast to the East coast had put my mind in a dark place. I maintained my composure while boarding. I blacked out in my seat. I woke up in Dublin. Against an improbable stack of odds, I had made it out of the country.
Mission accomplished!