I would like to start the column “Adventures in the U.S.” with the story about my arrival in America. I believe that a diary-style narration would be best to describe what I experienced back then. To keep you on track, here is a small prequel of the story: I came to the U.S. one month before the beginning of the academic year at St. Cloud State University. From July 20 to August 17, 2019, I had a pre-academic training program that took place at Ohio University, Athens, OH. Forty-two students, Fulbright scholars, from all over the world were going to spend a month in Ohio to get prepared for the U.S. graduate school, and I was lucky to be a part of that team.
July 20 was the day (or it’s better to say the evening) when I arrived at Chicago O’Hare airport. I had about four hours before my next flight to Columbus. Seemed like plenty of time for me. Exhausted after a long time I spent on board I was still excited to meet new people and finally reach my destination point. But destiny had a different plan on me, and here is the story.
I remember waking up at 3 a.m. in the king-size bed. My hair was still a bit wet and smelled of shampoo. The room was silent. The soft light from the table-lamp was filling the space around and made me feel more or less safe for the first time in a while.
The first hours in the U.S.
About seven hours ago, I missed my flight to Ohio. I was supposed to be there in the evening, on July 20, 2019. The day when my pre-academic program started. By that time, I should have been at Columbus airport, meeting the other Fulbrighters, and moving to Ohio University, Athens.
Instead of this, I was wandering in Chicago O’Hare airport, buzzy and full of people. I missed that damned flight standing in the huge lines, which had been moving as slowly as it could be possible. I was not physically able to be on time for a plane.
The next flight to Columbus would be the next morning, the officer told me. I caught my breath. Where should I stay? The woman gave me a small leaflet. It was the voucher, which I could use to have a discount on certain hotels. Which hotels? By that time, my brain was half-shut, and my English got completely broken. As I spoke to the officer, who seemed to be as tired as I was, I realized that from that moment, I was left to myself.
Alone and completely lost.
Wait. So what is my plan now?
My hands were tired of dragging a 21 kg luggage bag. I felt shattered after the ten hours flight and five hours spent in the queues. My hands were shaking. I was about to burst in tears right there like a small baby. No. Not now. I forced myself to stop it. My thoughts kept tangling. I was alone in a foreign country. For the first time in my life. I did not have anyone in Chicago who could help me. I had a Russian SIM card on my phone with no money on it. I could not make a call. All I had was the airport Wi-Fi and my power bank.
I texted my parents in WhatsApp, saying that the flight was delayed. Promised to keep them informed. The other details were omitted. I was sure that even without this they both were worried enough.
The super-expensive hotel that I found right near Terminal 2 was a ray of hope for me. The receptionists let me use their phone to reserve a room in a different place. In half an hour, I was on my way to Extended Stay America. I hardly remember what we were talking about with the taxi driver during the ride. With every mile, I was getting absent-minded. Sooner I would be safe, I thought. I would be able to catch a break and to cry as much as I want. It would be more than enough.
Welcome to Extended Stay America!
I came into the over-sized room and felt goosebumps covering my skin: the air conditioner was working on its full capacity. I turned it off immediately and looked around. The room seemed luxurious. Any room would be luxurious for me at that moment. I passed by the small kitchenette, fell on the king-size bed and had a sigh of relief.
My stomach had been empty for a few hours. I did not feel hungry though. After a long time of “complaining” at me, it finally gave up. But still, I knew I had to fill it with something edible. Not to get dizzy at the end. A cup of hot tea and some pastry would be perfect. I came downstairs and asked the receptionist if they had any coffee shop around. No. Supermarkets? Pharmacy? Nope. Just a vending machine in the laundry on the first floor.
Better than nothing.
Wide awake, tired and safe
It was about midnight. I kept waiting for tears to flow from my eyes. They still did not want to come up. I came into the bathroom and stood under the shower. I set the temperature to make water hot enough. The warmth was spreading inside my body. I closed my eyes. Still no tears. It was quite a strange feeling. Safe and anxious at the same time. My heart was pounding like crazy. I was breathing heavily. Too tired even to cry.
I guess it was that night when I first experienced jet lag. Even though I was tired like hell, my mind refused to switch off, and the number of sleeping hours reduced from six to three. From 3 a.m. until the early morning, I was on the phone speaking to my boyfriend, and then to some of my Russian friends. We spoke as if nothing bad had happened to me. That was exactly what I needed back then.
At 5 a.m., a silver-grey line flashed between the dark curtains. Morning dawned. As I had my tea, which had been warmed up in the microwave oven, I packed my stuff as quickly as I could and asked the receptionist to call the taxi. For the next few minutes, I was busy painting out dark circles beneath my eyes with a light-beige concealer. I glanced at the mirror. Not bad. At least looked like a human being. The taxi arrived. I looked and the watch, preparing myself to continue this trip. Now I will make it in time.
Ohio, I am coming
It was July 21, 10 a.m.
I was sitting near the window. On the plane. It was drizzling outside. Thick clouds covered the sky. I put my headphones on and felt that I was gradually falling asleep.
The loud voice in the onboard speakers announced that the flight was going to be delayed for a short while because of the weather conditions. I scrolled down the list of songs on my phone. I did not care how much time it would take to make it to Columbus airport. I knew I would be there sooner or later. I knew that there were people waiting for me.
I was on board. That was the main thing I knew.
I turned the music on and closed my eyes.
That’s it. Does it sound familiar to any of you? Do you remember the first time you arrived at a foreign country? Do you have any vivid memories about it? Feel free to share your stories or make some comments about this one. Thank you 🙂