Up in the (Korean) Air

You were promised a tale of my journey from the rolling foothills of Northeastern Tennessee to the smog-filled streets of China; well, here it is. Tuesday night, my last night at home, was spent packing. My family room became a metaphorical deli counter for suticases. Scales and piles of clothes
littered the floor. The weighing and re-weighing was seemingly endless- each checked bag had to weigh less than 50 pounds. Anyone who knows me knows that with the sheer amount of clothes I have, this was certainly an ordeal. It was an endeavor that required a lot of undignified stomping on my luggage
and straddling my bags just to close a zipper. When the last bag had surrendered to my desperation, I went to my temporary bedroom for a few hours sleep. The next morning, I woke up in eager anticipation of my last American shower. I couldn't wait for the blistering, lava-hot water and the jet stream of water pressure. Who knew if China could provide the same showering satisfaction? The water was freezing. However, my tiny morning rampage fell on deaf ears; it's kind of hard to feel sorry for someone who was about to set off on the journey of a lifetime. After several false starts, we finally left the house. We sped along through Virginia listening to Colin Cowherd on ESPN Radio, with DC getting closer by the mile. The next step for me was dinner at my favorite restaraunt- Filomena Ristorante in Georgetown. It has the best Italian food I have eaten thus far in my entire life. And at $40 an entree, it's just the kind of awesome Western gluttony I needed before my long trip. Once we hit Reagan Airport, my mood darkened a little.. I came to the realization that I had never traveled alone. And here I was with 3 flights ahead of me and not a second of international
traveling experience. Of course, we all know how friendly airport workers are. So that definitely made things easier for me. Thanks, TSA, for doing your job with a smile. By the time I had boarded the plane in DC, I had pretty much lost faith in the decency of mankind. As a product of the American South, I expected smiles and kindness, and was met everywhere with cold indifference. Clueless expressions and a complete lack of knowledge about the minutiae of traveling didn't help matters too much either. By the time I was in my seat, I was forlorn. An exhausted flight attendant mumbled the safety procedures and we took off. Country fried hillbilly that I am, my face was plastered to the window as that awesome, sinking stomach feeling of takeoff spread through me and the plane sped upward. Once we leveled, I took a second to look around the plane. It was like a cigarette with wings. It was, without a doubt, the tiniest form of air travel I had ever seen. I half expected the flight attendant to give us instructions on how to prepare for the upcoming parachute jump.
But it never happened. Approximately 45 minutes later, all dozen of us were on the ground at JFK. My time in New York was spent trudging from terminal to terminal- endless lines and luggage mishaps contributed to my exhaustion. When I had reached the Korean Air counter for the second time, I was a sweaty disaster. I handed my passport to the woman at the counter (who I thoughtfully nicknamed Jersey Shore) and I was informed that I could pick up my "luggages" in Shanghai. I quickly realized that this flight was going to be different. The gate was full to the brim- mostly with Koreans. Their chanting, sing-song language filled my soul with horror. I looked around and found some White dudes, and they were even right around my age. But they were less than welcoming. After some eavesdropping, I realized they were military men of some sort. They took one look at my Kindle and Sperrys and decided I wouldn't really be much use in a conversation. Even though I was 4 feet away, and the only other English speaker in the vicinity. For 2 hours. Thanks, guys. Semper Fi, or whatever. I lugged by broken duffel bag up the ramp an onto the most giant plane I have ever seen in my life. There were 2 aisles and 7 seats per row. And over 100 rows. I didn't really have time to take it all in; I was too busy attempting to shove my 7,600 pound duffel bag into the overhead compartment. It didn't work. I was being glared at by scores of pissed off Koreans, until a 90 pound flight attendant whisked my bag away to a larger compartment. After firmly establishing myself as the village idiot of the entire plane, I took my seat. By this point, I had literally never felt more alone in my entire life. I missed my parents and my friends.I knew there was no turning back, but I didn't want to go home. I just wanted someone to have a conversation with me. Fortunately, an English speaking Korean businessman seated right next to me did just that, and thus restored my faith in people. Over the course of the 15 hour flight, he told me what in-flight meals were best, and how to eat the Korean foods I was being given by the incredibly hot
 Korean Air stewardesses. The conversation periodically lagged, and I watched a few movies in my complimentary in fight slippers. Now this was the life. I fell into fitful sleep, not knowing or caring what time it was. When I woke up, my flight companion informed me that we had just flown over the North Pole. It was the coolest thing I had ever done. After I had been given some advice and wished good luck by my new friend, I "de-planed." As in all other flight-length comeraderies, I never learned the man's name. But he had done me a lot of good, being helpful and friendly when I needed it most. I will never forget the feeling I had when I took my first steps into the Incheon Airport. I looked out the windows, wide-eyed at the unfamiliarity of it all. The tiny, foreign cars. The Korean scribblings on every sign. The roof of my mouth was dry as my mind tried to take it all in. It was my first time outside the Continental United States. I was bewildered, excited, and scared. For a lifelong travel fanatic, it was the bizzare and amazing realization of a long held dream. I floated through Incheon, by this time a far more seasoned and confident traveler. I found my gate quickly, and scoured the airport for a Starbucks, with no avail. I then waited for my group to arrive from LAX. They came, and we left for Shanghai. We quickly formed bonds over bean curd, and my mind was finally at ease. We had all touched down in Shanghai, most of us for the very first time,
preapred for adventure.