I am insistent on turning this bitch-worthy day into
something positive. I woke up this morning, well before my alarm clock, knowing
that today was the day I’ve been waiting for since I found out my dear friend
Brittany got engaged last January (and by last, I mean 2011). I skipped my
morning run, hoping that if I jumped right to the shower/ getting ready segment
of my day my 11:24 departure flight home would come sooner. I showered and put
makeup on (which never happens during the week), attempted to manage my lose,
frizzy waves, and poured me a heaping bowl of granola, sprinkled with
blueberries, drowning in soymilk. Neurotically, I checked my bag one time, two
times, three times to ensure I had my bridesmaid dress and partnering 5-inch
heels. When I was certain my worn travel backpack contained all I needed it to,
I took it out to my car and returned inside to retrieve my handbag.
Unfortunately, my handbag held by phone, containing a fateful message.
(Automated, far too chipper, voice) Hi, this is American Airlines and we are calling to inform you of a
flight cancellation.
Okay, so I’ll leave an hour later or catch a layover in
another city not a big deal.
Blah, blah, blah, we
have rescheduled you on a flight leaving tomorrow, Friday, May 4th.
Oh, helllllllll no (I sounded as ghetto as you think when
you read this). Initial anger turned to crushed-spirit tears really quickly. I
called my mom, who calmly suggested I call them and force them to put me on a
flight today, regardless of what city remotely near South Dakota I had to fly
into.
For two years, my life in the Valley has seemed like some
version of my real life, version where I gave up many things in hopes of
changing the academic trajectory of really deserving students. Whereas I am an
entirely different person now than I was two years ago when I first arrived,
whereas I am grateful for this experience, whereas I adore my students, I long
for days and weekends away, promising familiarity and close friends and my
family. The hyper impersonal recorded message telling me that my ticket out
would have to wait literally devastated me this morning. Months of
anticipation, weeks of preparation (including the growing out of my now groucho
marks eyebrows), and fellowship with my family and friends within reach were
all put on hold because some group of American Airlines employees decided to
cancel a flight out of Dallas. All the energy I put into this week poured,
literally poured, out through my eye sockets in the form of oversized tears.
Minimally composing myself, I called the AA hotline,
literally screamed at the automated voice trying to direct my call, and
repeated
Agent, Agent, Agent, Agent, I NEED TO SPEAK TO AN AGENT
My request was granted and only slightly less angry I
started in on the agent.
I can’t fly tomorrow
Mam, what’s your confirmation number?
I have no idea. I can’t fly tomorrow. I need to go home. I
don’t know what my flight number is, I just got a voicemail saying you
cancelled my flight (as if this poor man was responsible). I need a new flight.
TODAY.
Mam, I’ll help you with that if you tell me your flight
number.
I DON’T KNOW
Okay, will you tell me your name?
A calmer Natalie emerges and the two of us figure out what
my initial flight plan was, the reschedule (not a chance in the world going to
work) one is, and then, he tells me he can get me on a flight this afternoon. By
this time, I’ve apologized for being such a bitch, explain to him that this
flight felt like my “get out of jail free” card and the message this morning
felt like the warden saying, “sorry, girl, you’re stuck.” He apologized
profusely, confirmed my flight multiple times (per my multiple requests), and
wished me well.
And, thankfully, I am well. I’m more anxious than I was this
morning, I’m obsessively telling myself that I’ll get home tonight and
everything is find. I hate when my schedule gets interrupted, but I hate even
more that I’m guilty of, at times, feeling entitled enough to be immune to the
discomforts of life (aka flight changes and automated voicemails). Today, I saw a really ugly side of myself, but
the visibility of that side served as a reminder that love is something that
needs to be consistently pursued. Love hasn’t entirely embodied me, otherwise I
would have handled my stressor this morning far more gracefully. I’ll keep
trying, though, keep trying to let love fill all my little nooks and crannies.
Perhaps, then, the next time I get a call saying
Hello, this is
American Airlines and we’re calling to inform you of a flight cancellation
I’ll respond by taking a few deep breaths and embracing the
adventure that can potentially accompany change.
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