Leaving on a jet plane

This morning I was dazed. It was one of those mornings that wasn’t really morning because there was no night to speak of. I stayed up through the night finishing a paper I still have yet to put the finishing touches on. My plane was delayed once, twice, then until 4.30 in the morning so my Thanksgiving break was extended by 12 hours or so. The internet went down around 1, so I couldn’t really add much definite after that. Just details. I finished that around 2, but was so wired on coffee that going for the hour of sleep would be useless. I tried anyway. No go.

By the time it was time to leave for the airport I was cold. I hate that. It’s the worst part of being tired for me. I can’t hold body heat and I shiver like a toy dog does when it’s excited. I made the trek to the airport for the second time. It’s a much different place at 4 in the morning. This morning, however, there was an abnormal flurry of activity. More Ohioans headed off to war.

In theory I know that the guys fighting overseas are my age; have similar backgrounds; want many of the same things of their lives that I do of mine. But there’s always something more real about witnessing something firsthand. Goodbyes are painful. I know all too well, as I’ve said too many. For many of these guys, this was the first goodbye. None of the farewells I’ve ever said had such tension in the air. This goodbye could really be a goodbye for them, not the “until we meet again” usually associated with parting. They might not come back.

One kid followed me through the security line.

“Is this the place where I empty out my pockets?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“And my shoes?”

“Yep, they want it all.”

He then went and found a seat off on his own, waiting for the plane to Charlotte to carry him away. His first plane trip, and there’s the possibility of it being a one-way trip.

While he was sitting there, it was noticeable that he didn’t quite fit in with the other guys. He wasn’t necessarily more shy, just not yet one of the gang either. Social dynamics here, something I can relate to. Guys that could just as easily be me or my friends, packing off to war. Yet there I sat, in my privileged seat, returning to the comforts and safety of New England university life. Yet another way in which I am fortunate, that I need to appreciate more.

All too much for 4 in the morning.