Over the Rockies - Day 1

I found out before I even left the country that this trip was not going to be easy.


See, just about everything that has occurred in my life up to this point has been a first. First car, first year living on my own, first published poem, and now my first journey overseas.

It also marked my first journey on a commercial flight.

And my first time getting sick on a plane.


It wasn't even dizziness or nausea, but full-blown, I-feel-so-sorry-for-myself-and-the-people-around-me sickness. Thank God it happened as we landed in Dallas, Texas, and not mid-flight.





I practically crawled off the plane, and the moment my group made it to our next departure gate I curled into a ball on the carpet, closed my eyes, and tried to rest. The ground was moving up and down beneath me and there was an unbearable weight pressing down on my temples.


I didn't understand why I was feeling this way. I never get motion sickness in cars or boats; I had not eaten any strange foods yet; last time I checked, I was in good health. What was going on?




In retrospect I contribute nearly all of it to fear of the unknown. I had spent most of the night before whining to my friend Tobyn, worrying over whether or not I really was ready to take a step so far beyond my established boundaries. I had not spoken of it much to anyone before, but I was genuinely terrified to encounter the language barrier, the new food, the unfamiliar culture - even the different climate. After being a vegetarian for two years, would I be able to handle the meat people served me? I also had not practiced Spanish since my second year of high school. Would communication be possible? There were so many uncertainties I knew I would inevitably encounter, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to handle it. If I couldn't handle a bout of motion sickness, would I be able to handle two weeks of a completely new way of living?


So I was literally worrying myself sick, and I had yet to even cross a border. Sad.


Of course, once you begin a journey by plane it is rather difficult to turn back, and I realize now that I was blessed to not have a choice in the matter. If I had, I would have made the wrong choice and run back to the familiar. Instead I remained where I was on the floor, and for the rest of the layover I fell in and out of sleep, and prayed.


"God, if You want me there, You'll get me better before I get on that next flight."


The next thing I knew I was awake and feeling tired, but fine. The ground was no longer moving beneath me and my headache had disappeared. I got up cautiously, afraid that it might return as I stood up, but nothing happened. I was okay. I joined the other ten people in my group and we boarded the plane together. The plane took off and climbed to 30,000 feet, but my nausea did not return.


I suppose He did want me there, after all.