Vietnam Day 1: The Journey Starts
The sky was still dark out when my eyes opened. It was the last morning I was going to be waking up at my parent's home. Just about 30 days ago I sold my entertainment company in Atlanta, GA and was in dire need for a long walk.
Hugging my little sis, it was time for a shower then out the door at 7:39 am. My father volunteered to do the 2.5-hour drive into New York (JFK Airport) to drop me off. We had a small bit to eat at a local diner, then put down some miles.
As we drove, I had a slew of mixed feelings and thoughts. Like, why am I doing this? I don't feel ready for this: how will I survive? Did I make a poor choice? Just a week before, my mother got upset that I was setting out. Perhaps it was just motherly love, or maybe it was that I was not ready? Whatever the case, you have to move forward.
As we rolled up to Terminal 8 at JFK in NY, my dad gave me a big hug and wished me well. With a smile, he drove off, and I turned to meet my adventure.
The Long Waite
Hey, what can I say, it was a free ride, that is what I thought as I realized I had about 8 hours before my flight.
An information clerk told me to go to terminal 1 for a seat, as Qutar Air did not open for check-in till 5:30, and that was about 6 hours from now.
Twisting and turning halls, down some people movers and up and down escalators, I arrived at a Starbucks, JFT Terminal 1. Armed with a small coffee with steamed almond milk, it was time for the mind to sort out some things.
Sipping coffee, the first order of business was to text people I cared about and let them know I would only be on Whatsapp, then text people who own me some funds and say “Pay me the funds.”
These tasks were good for the mind. A lot of “Have a safe trip” and “ I miss you” came over the wire from people my heart is close too. All the while behind at another table, a gentleman was listening to some Asian music while chatting in a foreign langue.
A tickle of adventure set up my spine.
With a change of seats, and phone calls set, my mind drifted to the questions I asked myself on the drive-in. Why am I doing this? Why go on this adventure, this walkabout with no set return time… Some Russian ladies sat next to me and started to chat with each other, while on the other side, a couple from France. I think, talked and played UNO.
While I did not know what they were saying, it did awaken that passion for being in new places, new faces, exciting encounters. Perhaps this was the reason I was doing this?
2.5 hours of sitting, and it was time for a walkabout. SO I headed back to Terminal 8. Still, it was 2.5 hours until the check-in station opened.
This time was spent juggling, sitting, walking around, and surfing the net. All the while, the endless sea of faces streamed in from what seemed like a never-ending ocean of life outside. All of them in a story that I am a supporting character too, as they are supporting characters to me. It's true what they say, life is a stage, and you are the star.
Finally, it was time! The Gates opened for check-in. With passport in hand, Vietnam acceptance letter in hand, I was ready, smooth and like a pro, I thought… that was until I got to the ticket booth.
Surprise! Challenges to overcome!
The attendant, who was dressed well in a maroon smart fitting dress and one of them pinned on mini hats, asked for my papers. She looked at them, then at my passport, and said… “Hold on; I have to get approval on this”… "OH, Dam" was all that went through my mind.
She glides back and says, “we can not accept these for the Vietnam Visa as your middle name is not on it.”. WTF my mind screamed as I tried to keep composure on the outside…with a smile, I ask, “why not?”
To save you the dram of reading my mental anguish, it seems, even tho I don't use my middle name on anything (*like my driver's license) it the Vietnam Acceptance letter needs to be 100% spot-on, with your passport. As such, I could not get on the flight without this letter.
I set off for a nook at the airport to sit, whipped out the ye-old laptop, logged into the JFK wireless network. I had only 2 hours to get a new acceptance letter or end up missing the flight. With each Google search, the clock clicked down; each key typed was a second of time that was needed to make this happen.
AH here, here it is, a web page that could get a 1 hr rush visa paper!
In a blaze of speed, the keystrokes clicked away in precise motions; this was my first challenge to overcome on the journey. With a final click, like a chief tossing in a garnishment on a meal, I clicked submit and pay. I opted for the 1 hr rush visa, as it was $150 cheaper than 15 min.
Then a warning popped up on my screen. “ Its 4 am, and offices are closed, if its a rush, call) OH NO, This means I can not get a letter… my heart starts to sink, and my mind crunches some numbers.
I can push the ticket to tomorrow, that would be about $150, get a room here that would be about $75 or more, then dinner and breakfast before a morning flight. SO it would be about $280 ish to miss this flight, not to mention delaying my down the line plans. “Ught.”
Turning back to google, I searched more. “AH here Here it is.” 15 minutes SUPER URGENT entry acceptance letter service. Again in a rapid and on-point fashion, I enter my information; the cost for the urgent letter was $275. This was a hard pill to take. I had to just bite down on my thoughts of OH DAM and Fuck this; you have to overcome, you have to make this happen.
Almost instantly after payment went through, my phone rings with a large number. On the other end a lady from Rush Service. Like magic, in less than five minutes, I had a new temporary letter that would allow me to board the plane!
I had to pay $5 to have this one-page bull shit letter printed… but it was in hand. Adventure can go on.
Strutting up to the attendant that said I needed this and placed it on the counter. She seemed surprised. “You, you got another letter?” she asked me in a curious manner like it was the first time she saw someone do this. “Yes” was my response; with that, her eyes flickered down and in a massive sprawl of keystrokes and a few photos of the letter, she handed me my ticket. “Gate 14 Mr.Mack”. That felt good. It was painful to spend that money on such a stupid and last minute thing but thus is life sometimes.
Thought Security and onto the adventure
It was a shame I had to check my pack, as I wanted to store it in the overhead bin for rapid departure, but with only my day bag in tow, it was acceptable.
The rest of the pre-flight time went by rather quick. I talked with someone who plays the guitar, tho the conversation did not go much much. Spanish was not something I spoke, and English she did not. Most of it was spent sitting and thinking. Why am I doing this?
While getting the tickets, I opted for a seat 46D. May be silly, but you have a higher survival rate should the plane crash sitting in the middle back of an aircraft. Also, you get to board first. :D
- First Class? Oh no... not for me.
- Second class then? Oh no still too rich for me.
- Crammed in the back class? Yup, that is my seat.
I was first to the seat and stood to wait. Who will be my campaign for this 12.5-hour flight around the world? I do hope someone cool and not a crying baby or smelly person. To my luck, a nice gentleman named Peter from NY was one seat over.
The person next to me.
Peter is a jazz Paino player heading to Kenya to visit a friend for seven days. It was his first international flight. We talked a bit as the plane filled up. Between us in the middle of the craft, was an empty seat. We both eyeballed it and made passing comments about how, lets hope, it stays vacant.
Each face that started down the rows, the mind asked, Are they the ones that will be taking this empty seat? I could see that Peter thought this as well.
With the crackling of the intercom the captain speaks up, “Ur, This is captain”*difsbe, were about to: *dhfhew” Thank you. He had a nice British accent, but I could not hear anything he said.
The hatches closed, and Peter and I smiled as the seat between us was going to remain open! Nice! Elbow room and no fighting over that armrest.
At 37,001 ft cabin service started. First with a “Refreshing” face cloth, then Dinner. Airline food I remember being meh, but this was quite nice. I had 2 cups of red wine, dinned, watched a show about Japan (45 minutes long), then started a movie, “The Missing Link.”
Halfway threw this film was when my eyes grew heavy. This flight had a lot of turbulence on the way out of NYC, and it was like the gentle rocking of a boat. Like a slowly engulfing wave, my eyes closed.
Dreams and began as I drifted in and out of sleep, time melted by, people bumped into my arm now and again, a baby cried for a while my neck grew stiff, and my legs grew soar. When my mouth was dry, my eyes opened. The dome of the plane was a soft blue glow; the move had long since stopped.
The New Day
With a bend and a stretch and a glance at the screen, the monitor said 2.35 hours to go. WOOT!
Standing to stretch and use the restroom, I meet a strange guy from GOA India. We talked for a second while waiting for the bathroom to free up. He told me I should do naked yoga, and his kids make $20,000 a night playing GOA trance, and that his daughter makes $20,000 a month teaching Yoga and the GOA music started just two houses down from where he lives in GOA India. Perhaps, it was that my mind was still foggy from the restless night, or that he was sleepy… but the conversation wrapped up with him telling me to forget about time and show up places, and he missed a flight and his sisters always and, “CLICK” The bathroom door opens and I slip in.
Back at the seat, Brunch is served. Its a rather tasty egg dish and a coffee. Dinning, and waking up a bit more (Its 8 am at my home), I get the day underway by typing up this.
With a crackle again, and a bit more understandable, the captain comes on the intercom. In that British accent, he states “ Its 4 pm in Qutar, and we will be landing in about 30 min”. WOOT, Sucess!
4.5-hour layover ahead.
It's the journeys we take that we cherish the most.
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