The 35 Hour Day

Although the walls were plastered white, the throngs of people waiting in the security screening line were wearing an array of colorful clothes. Each person wore the same expression on their face: one of impatience and annoyance with furrowed eyebrows, blank stares and pursed lips. I was standing in this line as well, not with a face of annoyance, but with tears forming in the corners of my eyes and a nervous grin, as I blew a last kiss goodbye to my mother and sister and stepped into the massive x-ray machine. My heart felt heavy, even though I had gone through many airport goodbyes before. This time it was different; I was heading to Ireland to study abroad for five months. I had no time to dwell on the misery of the farewell, because before I knew it I was shoved onto a plane headed to Philadelphia. Being a frequent airways traveler, there were no surprises on the first flight, yet the excitement of my new adventure kept my mind and body wide awake.

As the plane flew from Texas to Pennsylvania, I leaned towards the window, daydreaming about the most impossible events that could happen while I was studying abroad. From experiencing Irish pubs to meeting my favorite Irish celebrities, I was content on not physically dreaming on the plane. My head was in the clouds, both literally and figuratively, and I didn’t want to come down until I was in Ireland. Despite my wishes to continue on my dreamboat, the plane did land and I was forced to surrender the next five hours of my time to another airport. The Philadelphia airport was nothing special, just a steady stream of travelers available for me to people watch as I ate probably my last true burrito. In what seemed like endless hours shuffling through the terminals I finally met up with fellow Saint Mary’s College girls who were flying to Dublin on the same flight as me. Together, after more hours of waiting in uncomfortable airport lounge chairs, a booming voice of the intercom called for boarding. The nerves ran bewildered underneath my skin as I jolted with energy. This was it, I was leaving the country. Once zone five was summoned to board, I showed the gate agent my passport with shaking hands and entered the extremely small aircraft and took my seat. As soon as I realized how cramped the plane was, I knew I was not going to enjoy the six hours ahead of me, so I shut my eyes and prayed for sleep and safe travels.

No matter how tight I shut my eyes though, sleep would not relieve my tired, aching body. Instead I was subjected to the bright light of the overhead cabin, flight attendants knocking around the one lane aisle with carts of food and drink, and a rather large Irishman sitting next to me, who would cough so loud I thought the plane was having its own earthquake. Needless to say, the overseas flight was one of consistent discomfort and not nearly enough rest. Opening my eyes after maybe an hour of napping, I spotted the faint traces of deep reds mixed with murky oranges breaking through the dark blue swirls of the fleeting night, and I knew that the plane’s descent was upon us. The sun continued to stretch over the horizon, adding an array of hues to the sky, while I pressed my forehead hard against the window pane watching Ireland peek through the morning clouds beneath me. Distracted by the sunrise, we landed in Ireland quicker than I expected and were off the cramped plane in no time.

Once off the plane, I met up with my fellow Saint Mary’s girls, connected my phone to Wi-Fi and located a bathroom. After personal business was taken care of, we set off in search of customs. As we are passing by large windows, steel escalators and metal chairs, I realized my cell phone had gone missing. In a moment of sheer panic, I hastily made my way back to the restroom in hopes that I left it in the stall. No such luck. At this point I was forced to walk into the large customs line with my friends and without a way to communicate with the world for the next five months. I desperately asked all of the other people in line if they happened to pick up a phone, but all replied with no’s and looks of pity. Seeing my demeanor was completely distressed, my friend Emma decided to call my phone through FaceTime, and by the good grace of God, an Irish airport security worker answered saying he had found my phone in the restroom stall. Thanking God for the kindness of people in the Dublin International Airport, I was reunited with my cell phone. After that incident, going through customs, grabbing my suitcases and locating the rest of the Saint Mary’s girls was a breeze.

After my trials of lost and found at the airport, and trying to load thirty girls and their suitcases onto a bus, we were finally on our way to Maynooth. Although I wish I could say it was easier once we got to the National University of Ireland at Maynooth, I would be lying. We were dropped off on the side of the apartments we were to stay at, and had to carry our luggage on the uneven, cobbles of the sidewalk down to apartment reception. Pushing two large, heavy suitcases, a duffle bag and a backpack to and from the reception house and then ultimately to my apartment, was one of the most intense physical struggles I have had to endure. In this journey plagued with the harsh Irish wind, small pavements, and suitcases that would not roll, I ended up meeting Kathleen, one of my flat mates. We faced the struggles of moving in, together, including an elevator in our apartment building that refuses to go up unless someone gets in with all their stuff on the ground floor, while someone else runs to the top floor and calls up for the elevator. After successfully moving into our rooms, Kathleen and I spent some quality roommate bonding, in hopes to keep our jetlagged bodies awake until after sundown. That task was easier said than done.

As I was just settling into the black leather couches in the common room, we were roused up for a campus and town tour. Although I knew that what I was seeing on the tour was beautiful, I hardly remember most of it. I blame the jetlag. However, I do remember Kathleen and me walking around the grocery store, Dunnes, hardly buying anything, but just trying to adjust to new surroundings and items in the Irish grocery store. After dropping off at the apartment what little groceries we bought we joined the rest of the Saint Mary’ girls for dinner with our Ireland liaison, Roberta. Although I had been up for over thirty hours at this point, I had not eaten a proper meal until this dinner, but my fatigue was so intense I could not even enjoy the pasta carbonara. It was a shame. Finally with real dinner in my stomach, and a trip planned for the next day I went back to my apartment and rested. At last, after being up for approximately thirty five hours, my head was able to hit the pillow and sleep drifted over my exhausted body quickly.