Landing Seatac
The first memory of an international student at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport
Personal Essay by LINH NGUYEN
Finally, the Boeing aircraft slows to a stop as it inches toward the gates that open to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. It is around 8 p.m., Dec. 23, 2012. The pitch-black sky surrounds the plane as passengers stand up one by one, impatiently reaching for their carry-on suitcases in the overhead bins.
A young family sitting two rows behind her fails to hide their impatience as they lean farther forward. The wife holds her 5-year-old son’s hand, while the husband tries to soothe their little crying baby. During the flight, passengers tried to rest but the baby wouldn’t stop crying. A 17-year-old girl contemplates to herself who is more tired and annoyed between the passengers and the baby’s parents.
The four-engine airplane cabin is a tight three-four-three configuration. Every passenger has an in-flight entertainment touch screen attached on the back of the seat. The entertainment systems fail to keep the passengers entertained as they wait to exit the plane. The combination of multiple bouts of turbulence and narrow seating that made it hard for rest have left the passengers fatigued after their 9,739-kilometer-long flight from Taipei, Taiwan.
She watches a man, about 55 years old standing near the exit door is yawning and rubbing his tousled hair, which has been styled by several hours of leaning on the red foam u-shape travel pillow. Her last 20 hours on the airplane were full of mixed thoughts, but not nerves or excitement.
Before leaving Taiwan, she went on the internet to learn the number of foreign students in the U.S. the search helped her learn she will become one of 2,600 international students who come to Seattle to study each year. She is proud of herself, knowing her trip to pursue a new academic program strengthens her independence.
But the strange feeling of sitting on this 232-foot-long wide-body jet airliner with 400 other passengers flying to a whole new place leaves her emotionless as she finds it difficult to find her place in new surroundings. The trip marks her first time coming to the U.S., everything is coming too fast, as her time studying abroad will wrap up in three months.
“How come the plane took off on Sunday afternoon but will be landing on still Sunday evening, the same day?” she mumbles to herself.
Everything becomes nonsense and fuzzy to her as if she is waking up from a long nap. A few other airplanes are parked to the right. Finally, she walks off the plane. She walks up to the train station, which transports passengers from international gates to the center of the airport.
“The B-gate is next. Please hold on!” The train’s automatic notification system, a female voice, gets her attention. The 17-year-old ties her hair to the top of her head, while slowly leaning on one side of the train. Her eyes are concentrating on the map above the left exit door. Her confusion is obvious as she figures out where to go next in the unfamiliar airport.
Her 10-pound gray-orange backpack sounds heavy when she drops it on the carriage’s floor. A thick red winter jacket covers her upper body and touches her hips. She is in her favorite skinny blue jeans, with a matching blue pair of Converse. She knows she has prepared well for whatever the weather will be. Just a few more minutes and she will see how foreign the streets look. She keeps worrying if she caught the right train.
Getting off from the airport train, in front of her are four escalators rolling up but she cannot see what is at the top. She regrets packing so many novels and comic books in her carry-on as she lugs her bag forward.
She steps onto the black escalator. She can’t wait to see the city she has been imagining the past few months. Unfamiliar faces appear closer as she rises higher, toward the upper platform.
She quivers as the freezing air spreads to her face when the airport doors open. She remembers her dad telling her to Google Seattle weather to make sure she dresses warm enough.
“How can people breathe in that cold weather?” her mother asked in worry while they were checking all two of her suitcases one last time before driving to the airport, Sunday. The daughter was instead excitedly wishing the degrees would even drop lower so she could see snow.
Snowflakes are hovering in front of her as she makes it to Seattle. Snow is just tiny white dots, looking like bubbly bits of foam falling from the sky.
Sparkles are in her eyes and she can feel butterflies in her stomach.
“This is it. This is it.”
I’ve arrived.
Tôi đây.