Flight

Leaving is almost always a strange experience for me. I guess my mind doesn't really wrap around the idea too easily or quickly. It always hits me later.

After many last minute preparations, with the great help of mom and dad, I packed my last bag and went out the door. At the airport, I hugged my parents for the last time in a long time and went through security. It wasn't until I was halfway over the atlantic that I realized how alone I was and how much I would truly miss them and all of my friends.

On the seven hour flight from chicago to dublin, I sat next to a little girl, who was probably five or six. In fact, probably 30 percent of people on that 767 were under the age of 8, and at least half of the flyers were Irish, probably coming back from holiday in the states.

I got a meat lasagna dinner during the flight. It was somewhat humurous to see the meal, since I used to be quite excited about them when I was a young kid. I am still fascinated with the modular and segmented design of food prep and serving products on airplanes, and how they fit together like a puzzle. The meal was much less exciting. I watched Ghost Town, with Ricky Gervais as a selfish, cynical dentist who starts seeing ghosts. It was ok, a bit cliche, and Ricky is much funnier unscripted.

I did not sleep, except for about 30 minutes right before they woke us up for breakfast, mostly because it is impossible to get comfortable in coach seats on an airplane. We arrived into dublin and I had about 10 minutes to catch the flight to glasgow. The dublin airport was surprisingly busy for 8 am. I caught the plane to glasgow and watched out the window the whole 50 min flight, trying to get a good look at the land in which I'd be spending the next 6 months. Unsurprisingly, except for a few holes through to the rolling hills and pastures, it was coated with clouds. I wish I had taken pictures. As we approached the airport, the unmistakeable forms of grassy hills and stone buildings came into view. There were sheep pastures all the way upto the outer fences of the airport, and when I stepped out of the plane doorway the smell of cowpatty surrounded me.

We walked into the airport after taking a bus, and I was surprised to find that were no customs or immigrations officers. My checked bag was also missing. I talked to the aer lingus baggage people and to the airport security and they said that if there was not an immigrations officer available, then I could just go. I went to an atm, took out my first batch of pounds, got on a bus and went into Glasgow.

New Years Day 2009