A Right Of Passage

Early Friday morning, the autumn air was crisp, the sun was just beginning to peek out over the tree tops and I was tired. However, that was no excuse. It was the day. It was the day for the rite of passage, the day for distinguishing the men from the boys. Err, the girls from the women. It was the day for my first-ever flight by myself.

So I set off in that early morning light, with my mom driving, of course. It's incredible how close T.F. Green is to my house. It only took us a few minutes, and by that I mean 15, from door to door. Now, the plan was that Mom would walk me to the gate, but the mean United Airlines lady at check-in had a different idea.

Needless to say, at 8 in the morning, neither Mom nor I were planning on going toe-to-toe with the airline lady who was BENT upon making our lives difficult. Alas, we were turned away, fuming. Yet, I was very much unconcerned with this turn of events. I am 16 years old, and this is T.F. Green. I mean, come on, there are only two, very-well-marked directions you can go after making it through security. Needless to say, I was fine. I even managed to get a Starbucks, which was a huge and much-needed bonus.

Despite some creepy old man at the gate, my departure was otherwise easy.

Now, what was my destination? Washington D.C., Dulles International airport. A WHOLE lot harder to navigate than our little T.F. Green.

After I disembarked, my goal was to find baggage claim. Well. Easier said than done, apparently. It took me about 20 minutes to get myself to baggage claim, during which time I had to go up and down about 12 escalators and flights of stairs, and somehow navigate myself and my purple duffle bag through a SEA of people. I'm pretty sure all of D.C. was in that airport. However, after about a mile of walking, I somehow arrived at what I thought was the final escalator, panting and red-faced. I was greeted by a concrete wall and two monorail tracks. And suddenly, the ever-so-helpful bright yellow baggage claim signs disappeared.

I feared I was to be lost in the underbelly of Dulles International Airport forever, subsisting on the trail mix I had packed that morning. Hope came in the form of a yellow-shirted Dulles employee, who, sensing my sheer and utter confusion, promptly directed me to the correct track. Thus, I happily found baggage claim and my trial came to an end.

"I get pretty much all the exercise I need walking down airport concourses carrying bags."                                                                                             - Guy Clark

Until next week!

Rach

P.S. Oh! for those of you who are planning on attempting to navigate Dulles Airport in the near future? It's the monorail track on the left.