On Saturday, October 8th, I bid my family farewell at the Raleigh Durham airport. I wasn’t nervous about the flight, I had no reason to be. Landing in Newark, that is what had me clenching the fibers of the car seat all the way to the terminal drop off. I had never traveled so far on my own and in truth, I did not know how to get a taxi, which made landing at 9AM seem as a death sentence. Fortunately, Uber (a car service) was created to rectify situations like mine. 

Contrary to where I would be in the next week, I knew New York would be entirely frigid so I had on Merrill hiking boots, black genie pants, a floral shirt, blue Hollister cardigan and my softball varsity letter jacket. My look was garnished with the Breg Fusion Functional Brace that simply would not pack into my Osprey Daylight pack. In retrospect, my chosen dress code was perhaps one of the most naive decisions I made. The airline security officers made the same observation. As I scrambled to remove blankets of clothing and simotaneously reveal my laptop from its sleeve an officer asked, well pleaded rather, that I simply not bother with the shoes. The rest of the process was routine and uninteresting, so I will not venture to recount the details.

In spite of my frustration earlier, the flight was smooth, and in fact, only lasted about thirty minutes, which unfortunately meant that I had landed thirty minutes too early and my friend at Columbia University wouldn’t be awake to offer any moral support as I navigated through the airport to my luggage. Nevertheless, I confidently followed the line of people to the luggage claim station. 

The Newark airport has a simple layout, but many carousels to choose from and my efforts to decipher which would have my items seemed futile. For ten minutes, I wandered aimlessly looking for my giant grey and purple bag and eventually, I decided to sink down into the surface of a concrete bench that others had also chosen.

While sitting, I decided to launch the Uber application on my IPhone 7. After enabling location services, suddenly, I was reconnected to the outside world. Everything seemed simple. I clicked the driver and then tried to locate the estimated price, but my search was empty. I only knew that there was a driver three minutes away from terminal A floor 1 (where I was). At this point, I knew once I had my bags, I would quickly be on my way. Simple right? Well, not exactly. 

As I mentioned earlier, I had never used Uber before, and until now, that was not a problem. But as I was waiting for my bag, my phone began to ring, and ring, and ring. I did not recognize the number, so I didn’t answer. I thought I could simply decline, but again, my pocket began to leap out of my pants. I felt like the back row Baptist who forgot to silence their phone during an alter call. At this point my face was flushed, my palms were sweating and my legs began to tremble. Everyone’s eyes were watching me and I knew none of them. I looked to my left and right, and that is when it hit me: I was alone. I couldn’t joke with my friends to ease the tension. I kept waiting for a word from a voice I knew, but quickly my ears became acquainted with the heartbeat of a young and inexperienced eighteen-year-old that was slowly becoming unsure of herself…

Just when I thought this flood of emotion had drowned out all sense of rationality, I was greeted by syncopation of a new rhythm. A loud BEEP sounded, and naturally, I checked my phone again, but was relieved to find that it was the sound of luggage arrival and a turning carousel. As the tension from other’s glares dissolved into the search for their own belongings I exhaled a sigh of relief, but the thought of loneliness in my newfound inependence still lingered…

Buzz, buzz, buzz again, the incessant sound of what I wish was an insect, but instead, you guessed it-my phone. This time, I finally decided to slide the switch on my phone to silent with no regard to the caller. 

A few moments passed and I decided to see just how much time had elapsed while I had been in the airport. I then noticed a notification and with the slide of a hand, my eyes were greeted with the simple phrase: “where are you?” I knew this wasn’t my dad, but I had a similar nervous feeling to that when I know I have stayed out way passed curfew and have no explanation. I looked at the time stamp that read: “Received 10 minutes ago.” 

This was it, I had no choice but to call the unknown number, but my luggage could come at any moment and I could miss it… 

I decided that the next time I received the call, I would answer and with the slide of a switch, my phone was armed like a pager waiting. 

After another five minutes or so, my 65 liter Osprey floated around and without hesitation, I lept from my concrete corner, leaving behind my day bag (the airport was clear at this point). I grabbed my bag off the belt, perhaps too quickly as I soon realized I packed way more than I thought. I rescued my ukulele from inside my bag and then turned to go back to my seat. But when I turned around, I was greeted by an unwelcomed visitor. 

In my excitement, my bag was taken captive and there was nothing I could do. I went to confront the thief but having a rational conversation at this hour and with a pigeon seemed impossible. That is right, in the process of me going to get my other bags, a pesky pigeon claimed my luggage as his own. I know this may seem silly. You may ask, why did you not just wave your arms about, but this was a famous New Jersey pigeon, they know how to fight for themselves. Don’t think I didn’t try to be rational, I asked the pigeon quite politely to leave and quite pathetically began to share my story. 

Then came my saving grace, my iPhone. Before venturing away, I had tucked my phone into the side pocket of my bag and fortunately for me, this pigeon didn’t like an Apple product. As soon as my phone vibrated, the bird fluttered away only to meet with a few other birds on the other side of the room, who, I can only assume began to gossip about me as I have them. 

I answered my phone to find a voice that was hardly recognizable speaking, well yelling to me to come on, and asking where I was. I then realized that this was the Uber driver I had clicked on earlier. Without further hesitation and no explanation, I darted out of the airport towards the big black SUV that was waiting for me but never was I waiting for it. 

The driver and I exchanged no words, no apologies, just looks and even those were subtle gestures. We crossed the Washington Bridge to New York probably an hour or so later and that is when he spoke for the first and last time to me; “Welcome to New York, the big city, the one that never sleeps. Where are you from?” “A small country town in North Carolina.” Was my reply and that was all.

We arrived at Columbia at half passed nine and my friend was still asleep so I made myself comfortable on a concrete bench and began drawing. The whole time I replayed the moments leading me to NYC in my mind. Why did I choose this? What will I do when I do not have the prospect of meeting someone I know to look forward to? Then a young man sat down beside me, curious of what I was drawing I suppose but in my thought I completely forgot what I was doing. He asked if I went to school there and I explained I did not but openly shared why I was there and that I would be traveling. The man as if instructed to, told me everything I needed or wanted to hear, things I already knew but had hidden in the back of my mind, deliberately. He explained that it was an “honor”, “a great experience and accomplishment”. That my “family and friends will be so proud”. That I “will learn so much and grow in so many ways.” Then, with not even an exchange of names, just a simple hand shake and a “good luck” he was gone. I laughed at myself and tucked my head back into my sketch book. I could do this, I can and am doing this. Wow. 

I realized then and there, I wasn’t alone and I never will be. Where I do not have friends, I will make them and suddenly where I feel alone, I will have a family. My home is my heart and the sensations of each experience and as long as I have my memories, that mentality, I will never be alone. So next time, I look to my left and right and laugh at myself for making a scene in airline security and for being all to loud at the luggage pick up. Next time, maybe I stand up to that pigeon who taunted me and maybe next time,  I will make conversation with the Uber driver who waited way too long because when next time comes, I won’t be alone, I will have friends with me every step of the way.