Shoes just Flying Everywhere

My sister and I were talking before I left the U.S. about how nervous I was for this opportunity because I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.  If you've never heard this expression, it just means that bad things usually come in groups and one shoe will hit you and shortly after the other will come down and hit you again.  The reason I have lived by this statement for as long as I have is because I have been hit with an inordinate number of shoes in my lifetime.  After a week spent with my best friend from college and her two wonderful daughters, I was at the Atlanta airport ready to begin this crazy venture.  First shoe: I had to check all three bags because the man checking me in at the counter said it was too big and would not fit on the plane.  The bag designated to be my carry-on has all of tehe things that are most important: my diploma, my birth certificate, the binder where I put all of my teacher memories, my grandmother's pearls. Things that are absolutely irreplaceable.  On a positive side, he checked the bag free of charge so at least it didn't cost me $100 to check the third bag.  

So, I'm all checked in and have about an hour and a half after I get through security to get to my gate and board.  I bide my time and eventually my flight is called.  I get on, and find that I do not have anyone in the seat next to me (!!). There are also screens on the back of each seat so I am able to watch whatever movie I want (I chose Justice League...and it was not very good...).  So I have a short flight up to Toronto and then I know I'll be stuck in Toronto for a few hours.  I sit down at a bar nearby with my tablet and a beer and wait patiently.  At this point, I'm pretty worn out already because sleeping the night before was simply not going to happen.  My flight is scheduled to leave at 5 and so at around 4:15, I work my way over to my gate and I find out that it is DELAYED.  I know that I had 45 minutes to get to my gate for my connecting flight to Casablanca and now I am panicked.  If my flight to Casablanca is not delayed then I am going to assuredly miss it.  So I sit waiting for my flight to Montreal, which leaves about and hour and a half late.  I decide not to panic completely until I get to Montreal, so I sit and start watching yet another movie.  The flight to Montreal is roughly 45 minutes, adding to my irritation that I'm going to miss my flight to Casablanca all because of a stupid 45 minute flight. 

I get off the plane and immediately book it to the first official looking person to ask where I can go.  On the way I see a flight to Casablanca and pray that somehow they can get me where I need to be. I interrupt two security guards to ask them where I should be. Rage starts to well up in me when I say, "Excuse me, I have a question..." and the man's response is, "Yes, I'm single." Any other day I may have found it funny, but on this specific day I wanted to scream like an angry gorilla.  I sweep my rage back in and find out that the counter is at the end of the same hall I was walking so I book it to the counter.  There is a line (of course) and after about half an hour (maybe a bit more) I'm finally in front of Marie.  I am trying desperately not to cry but the stress is real and the panic over my bags is real and I am starting to really freak out.  Marie is stern with me when I start panicking and my voice gets a little tense. I apologize profusely for being so upset, but I explain to her that I'm moving to Morocco, that my whole life is in those four bags and that I have no way of getting in touch with the person who is supposed to pick me up, other than to send an email and pray they get it. She informs me of a 10:55 flight that she could reroute me onto with Air Morocco.  It is 9:40. In order to accomplish this, I would have to claim all of my luggage, make it to the Air Morocco counter, convince them to let me swap, check all of my luggage all over again and make it to the gate on time before the doors close.  Marie asks if I want to try and I think, "What's the worst that can happen?" Boy, did I learn never to test fate with that statement. 

So I get to baggage check and I swear, as soon as I get to the right belt I IMMEDIATELY see the bag that was supposed to be my carry on and my duffle bag.  I stand there, waiting as the clock ticks past 9:55. I am still missing my largest bag which contains my favorite pair of boots (bought from an actual cobbler in Cambridge years ago), my figure skates, two pillows that are irreplaceable (a Parker Ave Elementary school pillow that my mother had made me and a unicorn pillow straight out of the 70s that was from my dad), along with all of the technology I planned to bring with me and a bunch of my clothes.  The clock continue ticking and I watch people come and go.  There is another guy, probably in his 20s, and he's also from my flight and he has been standing there as long as I have. We made small talk for a bit about our frustrations about missing our bags and wondering when they'll actually show up.  I have been traveling for over 12 hours at this point and am so exhausted, stressed and frustrated that I am practically delirious. I have officially hit the point of no return, where I have realized that there is no fixing how ludicrous this situation is and so I will simply give up and smile and laugh maniacally because sitting here weeping would just make things worse and more frustrating.  So my luggage is on one of those push cars and I am sitting on my luggage and start riding it around like a child at Christmas on a new bike.  I keep pushing towards the belt and then kicking off and spinning through the small are where we're waiting. I'm giggling and have given up on caring.  Whatever happens will happen at this point. I look like an idiot but for some reason it genuinely started to calm me.  Then the guy who was still missing his luggage finds his, and mine is still nowhere to be seen. The panic begins. an hour has passed and the possibility of the Air Morocco flight is dead to me. I have been sitting here waiting for one of my bags for over an hour, I have missed both flights, and had overheard the other woman on the counter upstairs thart because it was delayed due to weather, Air Canada is not reponsible for finding us somewhere to stay. I am resigned to the fact that I will be sleeping in the airport and I will be miserable. 

I walk up to a person who works for Air Canada and ask about my bags, the panic in my voice 100% real while I explain to him my entire life is in these bags. He takes my bag ticket from the back of, the now defunct and irrelevant, boarding pass to get to Casablanca and I wait.  I push over to the counter and am practically laying on my cart at this point because the exhaustion is as real as humanly possible. I also haven't had anything to eat because I always did have trouble eating when I'm stressed. The gentleman comes around and informs me that it was checked in and that his colleague will make sure it makes it onto the belt.  It is now roughly 11:15. Then my eyes meet my bag and my hands instinctively shoot over my head, fists clenched and I just bring my elbows down victoriously congratulating myself on finally finding my bags.  I start heading back to the departure area and I find an information desk and a series of check in desks that are ENTIRELY empty. It seems like everything is empty and closed. It is 11:30. I find a desk towards the back and explain my situation to the two guys sitting behind the counter and they look confused and explain how they cannot help, BUT they do point me in the direction of Air Canada which is helpful enough for me.  So I haul over to the Air Canada counter where a number of passengers are also getting help because they missed their flights as well (stupid weather). I see the guy from the baggage area trying to get things settled with the airline and his family, and I overhear the airline offering them a hotel voucher.  This warms the aggravation in my cold, dark heart because I know they were on my flight and there is now the slightest possibillity that I will not have to sleep in the airport. I allow myself to hope.

Finally I get up to the counter and Nina is nice enough to help me. She is very sweet and when I again explain that my whole life is in these bags and I have been traveling for over 12 hours and I am exhausted and hungry and frustrated and stranded, she is kind and helpful. She says that usually the airline doesn't give hotel vouchers for weather, but she will see what she can do.  I stand there listening to her speaking French to a supervisor and wishing that I knew even the smalled conversational French. She gets off the phone and goes to speak with one other woman and suddenly, she is smiling at me and let's me know that she's been given the okay to provide me with vouchers for a hotel, free taxi transportation back and forth through the airport, vouchers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the hotel and two $10 meal vouchers good for anywhere in the airport. I am so grateful I could hug her. While she is setting up all of the vouchers, another young lady comes over and starts talking about how nice the hotel is and I am officially relieved. 

Meanwhile, I am dealing with the additional stress of communicating this to someone in Ifrane, because I'm supposed to be picked up around 7:30 in the morning. I have replied all to an email sent to me by an administrator who is in charge of coordinating my ride back to the University campus. The email has my director, this administrator, and two people I don't actually know.  I am hoping that it reaches them so whoeever is supposed to come get me is informed and not wasting the morning going back and forth to Casablanca.  I get to the hotel sometime a little before midnight. I had sent the email in the airport, but another fun hurdle to jump over, my phone doesn't work in Canada. Therefore it's a brick of useless metal and plastic unless it's connected to Wi-Fi. So I have no idea if anyone has received my email until I finally get my Wi-Fi connected at the hotel. I am concerned because I still have no replies, not that I can argue with that because I sent it around 10pm which is 3am in Morocco. All I can do is hope.  So I decide to let it go and enjoy the small pleasure of being able to shower and sleep in a big comfy bed. So I wash the airport off of me and around 1:30 I am finally calm enough to try to get to sleep.  

I wake up around 6:15am to a messagee from my mother, checking in and asking if I had a flight yet. I go on the website, but it won't let me access anything. My phone doesn't work so I have to pray that the toll-free Air Canada number will not screw anything up if I use the phone in my room.  I dial and get a very pleasant lady who I can hear tapping away at her keyboard. Every few minutes, I can hear her breath in sharply, which sounds like she's about to talk, but she doesn't. The suspense is killing me. The next direct flight to Casablanca by Air Canada is tomorrow, "Would I be able to wait until tomorrow?" I inform her that I cannot and I really cannot.  The hotel that Air Canada has set me up in is around $300 a night (more than all the money I have in my bank account at this point). She then informs me that there is a flight to Paris (!!) and I would get into Paris around 7am and then I would fly to Casablanca from there at around 2pm. While this is definitely not the ideal way to see Paris, I think to myself that having a 6+ hour layover in Paris wouldn't be so bad. Finally, after about half an hour, she lets me know that she has found me a direct flight from Montreal-Trudeau Airport to Mohammed V Airport in Casablanca. It is with Air Morocco and will leave at 10:55 and is scheduled to land in Morocco at 10:45. I now have the confirmation number, a new itinerary and a plan.  The young lady who was at the front desk when we all showed up last night is still there at 6:45 when I get downstairs. I had heard her speaking to that same guy and his family the previous night and they were able to push their checkout until 3pm because their flight was in the evening. I speak with her and she says she can absolutely help, so my check out is now at 3pm. I used some of my meal vouchers and got myself a salad. '

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All in all, here is the lesson I learned from this, rather harrowing, experience. I really do seem to get a lot of shoes thrown at my by fate (Not cool, dude). I also need to learn to handle this level of stress a bit better, although I have to say despite my angry walking everywhere, and my occasional holding back tears, I was pretty okay. I didn't snap at anyone, I wasn't rude, and the only really odd things I did was riding a cart around while waiting for my luggage.  It goes back to the rules that me and my friend made for me during this adventure. It's somewhere between #4 Don't let toxic people ruin your day (except this is more like, don't let stressful situations ruin your day) and #9 Don't give a shit.  It make me think about rule #8 very specifically: Be thankful (Pick three things a day). So this is what I'm thankful for during this hellishly stressful 24+ hours of travel. 

1. While I was stressing about my delayed flight, I heard from one of my students through Instagram. I had always struggled to get him to do his homework and often he passed the grade by the skin of his teeth. I sent him a message to tell him to take care of himself and do his homework because I wouldn't be around to check in on him. At some point he said, "I'm gonna make you proud this year" and my response was, "You always made me proud, kiddo.  Make yourself proud this year." His response? "Thank you, I'll make myself proud this year." It's odd little moments like this that make me genuinely ecstatic and thankful for my years teaching. It's these nice little moments that really remind me why this hellish journey is going to be so beyond worth it. I am not whole if I am not teaching and this opportunity is everything I've ever wanted to accomplish in my life.

2. Thank goodness gracious for Air Canada! I will forever give shout outs to this airline that did not have to help me but did anyways. I am so grateful to Nina and Marie and everyone else at Air Canada last night who tried to get me where I needed to be and when that didn't work, they got me a place to rest my head. Right now I check out in about 2 hours and within those two hours, I will be able to shower and pack and not stress about how to get to the airport.  They gave me the number for a cab and I will be able to see Montreal during the daylight. I am entirely okay with this. I am slightly saddened because I would normally just go into the actual city and explore before going to the airport and sitting there for 6 hours, but after being pelted by this many shoes, I do not want to tempt fate at this point. 

3. I have sent emails to everyone at the school that I think I need to tell about my change in flight and right now it looks like I will have a ride to Ifrane, and will be able to get the keys to my apartment. So I have less than 24 hours to go and I will be home again. I am very thankful that I am the kind of person who knows that I can create a home wherever I go and I will do my best to really enjoy my newest home. I do feel terrible because it turns out the person who was supposed to pick me up was not informed that my flight was missed, and in doing so they drove all the way to Casablanca and I feel horrible. However, it is a small comfort to know that there really wasn't anything else I could do. My phone doesn't work off of Wi-Fi, I sent an email as soon as I knew what was going on, and there's nothing else I could have possibly done. So I'm just going to apologize profusely when I get there and hope that's enough!

The moral of the story? Life is going to pelt you with shoes sometimes. They will hurt and they will be frustrating and you will want to scream and possibly set things on fire. However, there are always positives that you can focus on to keep yourself from actually imploding in rage.  For me, it was the kindness of strangers, the support of the various friends who cared enough to listen to me vent, and Air Canada for helping me find a place to rest instead of me being stuck in the airport for over 24 hours. Although I'm metaphoprically bruised from being pelted all night, I'm okay and I'm not going to let a crappy situation ruin the excitement I have to be moving to Northern Africa and being able to teach and enjoy this new adventure. However, let's hope to avoid being pelted with shoes today. I think I'd appreciate a brief reprieve and a slightly less ridiculous day of travelling today, because 24 hours seems like quiet enough to me.