I touched down at the Washington-Dulles Airport to catch my connection to Beijing. The airplane getting there was rather small, with two seats on either side of the aisle. The flight to Washington was just 55 minutes long, so it felt like a morning commute - but way cooler because I was flyin' like an eagle! (Sure, I could have said "flyin' like a G6" instead but that's way too overused. Plus Flyin' Like an Eagle is such a great classic song, and I didn't want to shy away from the eagle symbolism since I was in the United States of America.)
The man sitting next to me on the flight slept through most of the ride, which was quite nice because I find it awkward sometimes striking up a conversation with strangers, and it meant I got to read in peace. I opened up the pages of Love and Relasianships, a collection of Asian-Canadian plays I borrowed from my brother (Thanks Gary!) and started reading the forward. In (what felt like) no time, our very bubbly air hostess told us it was time to land.
When I exited the aircraft, I imagined I was some sort of celebrity exiting a private jet, waving at the paparazzi as I descended down a narrow staircase. As my feet touched down onto the tarmac, Fergie's G.L.A.M.O.R.O.U.S. which was playing in my head for about 10 seconds, suddenly stopped playing... It was hot -real hot! A wave of hot air greeted me like a pie to the face! I would have scurried indoors if I didn't have to wait for my carry-on luggage, which was slowly exiting the back of the aircraft on a conveyor belt.
When I finally got into the airport with my carry-on in hand, I had to take a train to get to the gate for my connecting flight. The ride was pretty pleasant, and when I exited the train I walked down a long white hallway that was turned into an art gallery (so cool!). Around me hung microscopic images of various living tissues stained in bright pinks, greens, blues, reds, oranges, and fluorescent yellows. I love it when art meets science! No one was behind me so I took the opportunity to snap a selfie, the first picture of the trip.
All the chairs were empty when I got to my gate, so I thought that I was early. But it turns out they had already begun boarding the plane and were just waiting on passengers (like me) to make their connecting flights! A very kind old man who spoke mandarin ushered me towards the gate. Although I look like I should be able to speak Mandarin, but don't, we reached a mutual understanding when he uttered the word "Beijing" and I nodded my head. The female gatekeeper (it's what I've decided to call an attendant who works at the gate from now on - just go with it) checked me in. She asked if was going home, to which I replied, "No, just travelling." The male gatekeeper beside her, realizing her mistake, after hearing me speak English and not Chinglish, reasoned, "So this is home." To which I stupidly replied, "Yes." I guess the short whirlwind flight from Toronto to Washington combined with my lack of sleep made me think I was still in Canada, when in actuality, I was in the United States of A-mur-ica! They probably realized my mistake too, once they took a look at my passport, but I was too tired to explain myself and they didn't ask any questions. It did make me think though: When the female gatekeeper asked if I was "going home" was she trying to make me feel welcomed? Did her assumptions make her an accidental racist? Or was she actually right? Was I really "going home" to see the way my ancestors lived? But I was too tired to analyze all these questions. So I dismissed them and boarded my plane. Off to Beijing I go!
Cuuuuuuute.
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