What a day

Oy vey. Can I just start by saying that I hate flying? NINE hours. That is how long I was cooped up inside that bloody machine, surrounded by cranky french speakers and the smell of plane food (which really shouldn't be called food at all. It's more like plastic props that have been nuked long enough to pass for a meal. Yuck.)

About three hours into the flight, my leg started to go numb, but I (of course) had the terrible luck of being seated right in the center of the isle. On one side of me, there was the saddest looking old French man. Honestly, this mans wrinkles had wrinkles! He was all hunched over, and when he walked it was actually more like a hobble. How was I supposed to ask this poor old man to get up just to stop my legs from falling off? I just didn't have the heart, so I turned to the woman on the other side of me. Lo and behold, what do I find her doing? Breast feeding her newborn child.

So on one side, I have a crippled old man blocking my path, and on the other an exhausted mother and her hungry child. It was like Karma was toying with me. For a good six hours I sat in that criminally uncomfortable seat and said my final goodbyes to my walking days. It was almost a terribly tragic moment, but soon enough the capitan came to my rescue.

When the announcement bell chimed, my heart skipped a beat. . . well, several beats really.

"Good morning, this is your Catitan speaking. We have less than twenty minutes until landing, so at this time I would ask that you please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened. Also, if you have any portable electronic devices I ask that you please turn them off now. Thank you, and welcome to Belgium."

Such a simple set of words, but they were enough to set my heart racing. This was it. I had finally made it. After months of endless paperwork, restless waiting, and frantic preparation, I was finally here. A title wave of thoughts and emotions crashed in on me at that moment, most of which were not at all what I was expecting to feel. I started to have doubts about this whole thing. I asked myself over and over again

"What the bloody bleep am I doing here? What was I thinking?"

and then I thought something that changed EVERYTHING.

"Why couldn't I have just stayed home and lived my life the way a normal teenager would?"

That is when I realized I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I don't want to be NORMAL. The very thought of it makes me want to scream long and loud into the nearest pillow. Me, normal? Icky. From then on, I promised myself to throw myself into this experience head first. It isn't going to be easy, but you know what? I don't need easy. I just need different.

So here's to being not-normal, in all its weirdly odd, strange glory, and my victory over that awful beast, normalcy.

Let the adventures begin.