|
|
|
Chaos, Confusion, Chance: Chicago
I had always loved cities - I had always been a city person. It’s human nature to always want what we no not or can not have. After living in the suburbs for ten years and the countryside for another eight, a little big-city excitement was just what I foresaw when I agreed to drive all the five hours to Chicago to meet a friend who was flying in from out of the country and connecting there. It was not altogether necessary but I found myself offering to go anyway. Things happen in the city that could never possibly happen anywhere elsewhere. Chicago rendered me speechless. I turned and twisted in my seat in the car to make sure I saw everything we passed as we made our way deep into the city’s pulsating heart. I simply could not absorb it all. Now I look back at things in photos that I hardly remember taking, let alone seeing with my own eyes in person. Everything passed us at forty five miles an hour, literally, and my mind could not keep up at all. And the thought that in only a few more minutes time I would be finally meeting my friend only added to the excitement and anticipation throbbing inside me. We spent almost an hour in traffic while on our way to O’Hare to pick her up. Her flight was landing as we chewed our nails and broke out in nervous sweats. What if her plane had already landed as we sat here, doing only twenty five miles an hour if we were lucky? Would she be wandering around one of America’s busiest and biggest airports alone and confused? English was not her native tongue; what if she could not understand signs and got lost? The confusion and chaos gripped my heart in a tight fist. Nearly an hour late, we entered the massive, packed parking lot of the international flights terminal, number five. I hastily climbed out of the car and watched overhead as plane after plane appeared and descended down through the thick fog and clouds. The roar and deep hum of the mammoth engines was almost earsplitting. Much as I wanted to stand and watch, awestruck at the almost ethereal scene before my eyes, I knew that the situation was dire and we did not have time to lollygag. Inside the terminal the noise was no less. People scurried in all directions, people of all nationalities spoke rapidly and fluently in different languages, people with all sorts of destinations and schedules hurried to make them on time. Never before had my ears heard so many different languages. Clusters of Asian youths deep in conversation stood in the very middle of the walkway. There were a pair of Middle Eastern men, clad in dark turbans and robes made from a very fine, thin material, strolling along with a gaggle of small children at their heels. A few Hispanic families sat in the chairs in the small lounges, the mothers minding curious and energetic children who were bouncing on their laps like they were on trampolines. My mind was a blur. Again, I could not take in everything I was experiencing. Not that I even had time to try; we were beyond late and whatever I did, I couldn’t miss my friend! My mother and travel companion found an official and asked him for assistance. He directed us to the proper gate for her flight from Moscow. I watched, my heart racing, as a small trickle of people walked through the gateway, only one or two at a time. I realized with a panicked jolt that she was not amongst those passing inwards. My stomach turned in somersaults. I checked the chairs nearby, I checked the curb outside, I even checked the bathrooms. But then, as my mind backtracked around all the worst case scenarios, I found myself wondering if I even remembered what she looked like! Without hesitation I went over it again in my head: in her pictures she seemed tall, very thin, had had glasses and shorter brown hair…maybe a larger than average nose. I turned in circles, my eyes briefly scanning over each and every face I could see. That task alone was physically impossible, only adding to the tension and stress. It was horrible, I couldn’t believe we had lost her. What kind of friend was I? I couldn’t even get to the airport on time! I couldn’t be reliable for just one single moment in my whole life? My mother asked the official again and he assured her that the flight was still unloading and people were still coming off the same plane. At that, I felt a sudden burst of hope. I stood by the gate amongst the other friends and family members of the passengers. To my left a woman with long, blond hair held a balloon and bouquet of flowers in her arms and spoke to a dark haired man - her husband? - in quick, rough Russian. My spirits lifted considerably. I eagerly moved through the crowd closer to the gate and kept a close, never wavering eye on that passageway. Each time someone came through I thoroughly examined them, keeping in mind the pictures of my friend that I had seen online. After what seemed like an eternity, a short, thin girl walked through, dragging a rolling suitcase larger than her own torso behind her. My pulse quickened - was it her? Could it be her? Did I actually have a little luck that day? Short brown hair, check, glasses, check. She wasn’t too tall, maybe a couple inches shorter than myself, and her nose wasn’t large at all. I said her name somewhat loudly but not loudly enough, incase it wasn’t her. She gave a slight, hardly noticeable, turn of the head - she had heard someone call her name! I could have burst out into tears. I backed out of the crowd because she was on the move, already making her way out into the hallways congested with countless people. Where was she going?! I worked my way in front of her pathway and said her name again, this time much more confidently, as she began to look up to my face. Relief flooded me as she gave an enormous sigh and embraced me for the first time. Of course she knew who I was, but I just seemed to marvel in that thought: she knew me. Upon sight, she knew it was her friend. That didn’t necessarily mean a bond, but it felt like one. For two people who had never talked in person before or even seen each other in person to meet and embrace like old friends reunited after years of separation. She thanked God and I, incapable of words altogether, merely grinned big and returned her hug. Our first meeting will remain in my memory and imprinted on my heart forever. The journey to Chicago to meet my friend was only the beginning of something great: an unbreakable, close friendship that lived on even when we were separated by thousands upon thousands of miles of land and sea. Without my decision to venture to the city, who knows what would have happened? I know what would not have happened. Only memorable, life-changing things happened in the fast-paced world of busy days and sleepless nights. The Windy City blew me away.
ThaddeusTheThird · Sun Sep 14, 2008 @ 03:13am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|