Allison's Airport Tales of Awkward, Part 2

Part 2 of my Tales of Awkward brings us to my journey back home, which entails a very miserable beginning but by the end I bet you'll be saying, "My! How the turns the table have!" Because...well, it's all still so very awkward in the midst of things.

It began with a stark awakening at 3am in Winnipeg on a night which I had received less than three hours of sleep. My body was in shock, for I am certain death ripped my eyes open and shouted with glee, "You have a second chance at life today!" I'm not sure if that was any better than being dead. Either way, my journey was to begin shortly thereafter. Ain't nobody got time for breakfast.

This was a bad idea, because my flight from Winnipeg to Calgary got me nauseous and my layover there was 58 minutes. Here's where the fun begins, so let me put it into perspective for you: I spent the first 20 minutes puking nothing out of my stomach until there was for sure nothing. I then had 38 minutes to find Gravol to hopefully aid in my misery. T-15 minutes to get through security and Customs. The impossibility of this is, well...impossible. When I got through by pleading with people to let me ahead of line, I had about 7 minutes to run across a new terminal that was barren until the very, very end where my gate was. By the sweat of my brow and the mercy of the Lord, I made it to the gate just when the attendants were announcing the final call for anyone else to board.

I got to the plane and my body was like You have made terrible decisions today. We will talk about this later. And so the flight attendants ended up holding the plane for me for at least ten minutes while I started to puke again (that Gravol pill never stood a chance). I told myself I had to get on the plane so I could be home for Christmas, but when I actually sat in my seat, I realized I was actually--seriously--going to pass out 40,000 feet in the air and the only way to deal with my body would be to throw it out the door. Which they wouldn't do but it sure was inspiration for me to make a very weighty decision. I asked to get off the plane, and watched it fly away.

The attendants called the medics and there I was, on the floor in this private little corner with wires being stuck to my forehead and ankles. If I sat up, my heart was going to grow an arm, rip through my chest and punch me in the face, so I didn't move less I got a nosebleed.

They asked me so many questions, I made so many jokes about Canada, and then just when I developed a good relationship with these people, they told me I couldn't fly Air Canada again until I went to a doctor and had them sign a release form for me.

People. Do you know how expensive it is to go to a doctor in a country you're not from? My tears were crying tears. I was shipped away on a wheelchair (seriously, I was not up to par but I thought I'd be sitting in the hospital with IV's stuck in my arms forever at the rate things were escalating). Instead of spending $500 to get a ride in the ambulance (no thank you), I got one in a Taxi Cab to the nearest hospital.

This was my first cab I've ever been in and I'll never forget it because somewhere along the way, the cab driver and I started talking about missions and being a Christian and this guy tells me that it's all pointless and that the only thing that matters is working hard and living a simple life.

Guy. I may be dehydrated like a raisin addicted to tanning beds, but his efforts were eternally in vein. I said nothing except that love is far more satisfying than working for a living, but he ignored that and later started telling me that my brothers didn't love me the same way I loved them. Excuse me, Satan. Step aside; I've got work to do.

Anyway, I got to the hospital dragging my luggage back and forth until I talked with Nina--the woman who literally changed the entire day for me. When she told me I was looking at $4,000 to see a doctor (registration and out-of-country and blah), she saw the tears well up in my eyes. She took my hand and told me everything was going to be okay. She told me to go to a clinic, which was only $150, called them for me to make sure they could take me in, and gave me her personal phone number so if I had any problems, I could call her. Nina, I lost your number a few days later but someday I'm going to tell you how much your compassion meant to me and how it changed my experience entirely.

So it's obvious that I wouldn't be able to get on another flight that day, but thank goodness one of my cousins lives in Calgary and just got back from Australia three days prior (what a close call!). She and her brother were on their way to pick me up while I waited in the ER sitting area.

And, as I should have expected, the ER is the one place you can find someone who needs encouragement more than yourself.

I was sitting there when all of a sudden this girl about my age sat three seats down from me weeping. My heart snapped. I did the one thing I learned from BSSM and took a risk, so I grabbed a tissue box, put it beside her and knelt in front of her so she could see me while she cried. I didn't know exactly why I said it, but I said, "Hi, there. My name's Allison and I'm here to represent humanity and tell you that we don't all suck, and that there are those who love you and who are good people. I just want to let you know that everything's going to be okay. Sometime's it's good to cry by yourself, but I'll be right over there if you need someone to talk to. Okay?" While I was saying this, I started to cry with her, and it was like Jesus took my heart and wired it to hers. For a few seconds, I felt the compassion for her that Jesus did. The moment I took my seat, her friends came to comfort her; it was perfect timing!

When my cousins came to pick me up shortly after, this girl parted from her friends, came up to me and said, "I just wanted to let you know that what you said earlier made my day. Thank you so much for that." I told her that I had a pretty miserable day, too, but if I had to relive it again just to encourage her in a crisis like that, I'd probably do it again. She gave me a hug and left, and I'll likely never see her again.

The story wraps up with me spending a few extra days with my cousin I would've never been able to see for probably a few more years. Such an awful start ended with such an unexpected ending! I was able to make it home on Christmas Day, and now I look back on my Airport Tales of Awkward and really cherish the laughable and even sincere moments that I had. It feels unbelievable, but maybe I was at the right places at the right time just to give someone a laugh, encourage them, or to tell the cab driver that love is all that matters in the end.

So if you feel like your life is a summary of awkward moments, please remember my stories. Someone was touched by them, even if it came from reading a blog about those moments that you will be cringing at 30 years from now while brushing your teeth. That's a fine life, I'd say!

My how the turns the table have!

Allison's Airport Tales of Awkward, Part 1

The above picture is me laying in a firepit contemplating the meaning of airports and, why did God make me so awkward in them?

I've flown by myself many times before, but no time will ever be as awkward and dreadful and awkwardly dreadful as my round trip to Winnipeg this Christmas. The awkward part was my way up there, when apparently I lost all my wits about me all day long. Such as, I found myself forgetting which way the line goes in Starbucks so I stood at the front and then this lady was like "what." and I was like "what." and it was a very uncomfortable moment that I'll remember thirty years from now when I'll be brushing my teeth.

Also, as my last flight came into Winnipeg at 1am, mostly everyone was sleeping but I thought hey, maybe I should turn off my reading light now and let the poor people sleep in darkness. So I pressed the light button and apparently I was just kidding because I pressed the flight attendant button instead and I was horrified that all the attendants would come rushing to my aid as if I were on fire, so I had to shout as quietly as possible in the most gooberish way you can think of me saying, "Uh--N-no! No, I meant to press the...the light button...!" And the guy sitting next to me was laughing. I saw you, Guy.

Most hilarious part, though, was when I had to talk to the Customs Officer (you know, so they can see if you're rational enough after 1am to let you into the country). So the officer's desk was fashioned in such a way where there was about a one-inch gap from the build of the table to the actual desk of it. Seeing as it was 1am and my eyes were glossed over, I thought there was perhaps a glass casing in front of the officer (you know, guns and stuff--a normal Texan assumption), so I had to pass my documents through this awkwardly-sized one-inch gap.

So I passed him my customs form, which he received quizzically. He asked for my passport, for which I began to struggle with trying to get it into the gap because I was so tired and the passport was slightly worn open. I kept poking at it until the officer put his hands on top of his desk and said, "You put it right here, ma'am."

I stared at his hands on the desk absolutely amazed--for I thought how can his hands go through that glass wall? But then, I realized woe is me, for there is no glass wall and I have proven to look like an unworthy goober to step foot into Canada. So I gave him my passport (sheepishly) on the desk--where it should have gone.

Then--get this--he asked me, "So where you goin'?" And I kid you not, my eyes slowly floated up and to the right, slightly parted focus and I had zero thoughts working for me for about thirty straight, quiet seconds. And then I realized for every second I was spacing out, so was my percentage depleting to get into Canada. My eyes clicked back together, I slowly brought them back to the officer and I said, "Um...Steinbach. Yeah. Steinbach." He managed to ask me one more question before realizing I was a lost cause and somehow let me into Canada anyway.

Then I realized my luggage got sent to Calgary instead of Winnipeg and there went my parka and snow boots for the first time I'd be stepping out into the winters of Manitoba (it was -1'F/-18'C that night). The compassion of my friend was the only thing that kept me alive.

There were probably thirty more awkward things that happened to me that day that the Lord has miraculously wiped from my mind, but my tale is only the beginning. I have only spoken of the awkward part, and not the dreadful part where I was trapped in Calgary as an ill little goober for a few days on my attempted journey back to Texas! That will be Part 2 of Allison's Airport Tales of Awkward.

Anyway, moral of this story is that if you're not Allison, you can be assured that your airport experiences won't be as awkward as mine. And that's a fine life! Trust me.