So, I am on the returning flight from Chicago. Fall Break only has a few hours until it wanes completely. I leave behind the Illinois air, my two puppies, my mom’s chicken pot pie. I love St. Olaf. I am looking forward to returning. I love everything about the school. Correction: I love everything about St. Olaf except the distance from home. My hometown is a suburb of Chicago six hours away from Northfield. For certain aspects, being far away is a positive. I get to live in a completely new place. However, the distance has its negatives as well. For one, to avoid long car rides, I had to fly. I glance around the airplane. A woman sits nearby, heels crossed, life together. I watch as she opens a magazine, as if this 9pm flight is part of her Tuesday routine. As I wipe the sweat off my forehead– overheated by my poor choice of clothing–, she turns the page. She is calm. She is at ease. This woman, and all women equally put together, are frequent flyers. These women have the airport mapped out, never to miss a step or get lost. These women have a routine. They know what days to book, times to travel, clothes to wear, people to call. These women have flown a million times. I, on the other hand, have not. I am not a frequent flyer; in fact, the flight from Minneapolis to Chicago was my first flight without a parent by my side. My flight coming back was my second. Walking around the airport, I pretended like I knew what I was doing. But let me tell you, my lack of experience in the travel department was obvious. Us first timers are easy to spot. Thus, here are the tell-tale signs of a first time flyer.
Antisocial Much?
“28B…28B” I chant to myself walking through the plane aisle. As I sit, my first thought is one of victory. No passengers sit beside me. But my luck does not last. In the last moments of the “the gate is now closing” announcement, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum appear. I become the center of a stranger sandwich. My response? Earphones in, world out. Little known secret: once the earphones go in, the world does not just go out. The world actually stops trying to talk to you. It is a wonderful thing. So, for the hour long flight, I plugged in my earphones and squelched my social butterfly nature. In all honesty, I was not listening to anything. I would have listened to music–trust me, silence was the last thing I wanted–but airplane mode stifled my radio station and I am too cheap for Spotify Premium. Welcome to the sad life of a first time flyer.
Wearing the Wrong Thing
Frequent flyers have entire Pinterest boards of “Airplane Outfits”. I, however, wore my heftiest sweater, bulkiest boots, and puffiest vest. This outfit is A-okay for a trip to the Arctic Circle. Yet, the Illinois to Minnesota weather ranged from 70-80 during this fall weekend. Calling myself “toasty” is an under-exaggeration. As I trudged through the airport, sweat rolled down my forehead and my vest created a portable sauna. This was not the only problem with my OOTD. My wardrobe choices actually set off airport security. It turns out, my adorable, sparkly sweater is made of metal sparkles. It was not so adorable as I was walking through the airport metal detectors. My sweater lit up the security screens like the Fourth of July. Yes, I was pulled aside. Yes, I proceeded to be felt up by security in the middle of O’Hare Airport. No, I will not wear that sweater on an airplane ever again.
Losing Everything
In my prior flying experience, I handed my ID and boarding pass to my wonderful mother. She encouraged this, knowing these valuables would be safer in her pockets than in mine. My pockets many a time have misplaced gloves, money, tickets, wallets–you get the picture. My pockets cannot be trusted. Flying alone, this was one of my main concerns. I did everything in my power to keep my personals on my person. I checked my undependable pockets at every stop. Nevertheless, my pockets lost my ID. Fast forward to my freak out…
Step 1: I panic.
Step 2: I check my wallet. I check my backpack. I check under the seat. I check my neighbor’s bag. I crawl on the floor and check under shoes. I check Burger King. I check the hallway. I check the entire airport. I check…
Step 3: I check my wallet. I find my ID.
Step 4: I stop holding my breath. I hit myself for being such a buffoon.
This is a four step process most infrequent flyers experience at one point or another. Maybe this flyer loses his boarding pass or glasses or phone. But, you can always spot a first time flyer by the sheer look of panic on his or her face.
Running
People running in airports are either criminals, airport security, or first time flyers. I think you know which one I was. My plane arrived in Minneapolis at 10:37pm. My bus arrived at terminal 1 at 11pm. My bus ticket explicitly said, “Busses will not wait for passengers. Tickets are nonrefundable.” The nonrefundable part was enough of a motivator to get there on time. A 15 dollar ticket is valuable (a.k.a. broke college student). But the “will not wait” line sent me sprinting across the airport. The 11pm bus was the last bus of the night. Either I got there on time or I slept in the airport overnight. As great a story that would make, I was not about to miss that bus. A frequent flyer might call ahead, order a taxi, have a backup plan. Not I, my plan A, B, and C was to get to that bus as if my life depended on it. Hence, the running. First time flyer or not, I made the bus…with 6 minutes to spare.