die

How I Almost Died on a Plane and Why I Still Fly Anyways

As you can probably guess by the title, I almost died on a plane once. It's surprising really as there are more people that die in a car than on a plane. I've definitely heard the argument, "Well, there are more cars on the road than planes in the sky". My response: there are also more people on an airplane than in any car I know, so shut it! All of this to say that planes are relatively safe. You should feel comforted in that huge metal contraption. I've always felt safe on a plane, like I was being guided by the hands of God, because what human can really hold up hundreds of people as they fly seamlessly through the sky like that? Planes are really just God's work, I'm telling you. And if you don't believe that, then read on to how He still guided me on that infamous day I almost died while doing what I love most, flying.

On the Infamous Day:

It's officially my second time back to Sudan on an Ethiopian Airlines flight. At the time, I was infatuated with everyone thinking I was Habesha (a word referring to Ethiopians and Eritrians or Semitic speaking indigenous). I loved whipping my little thirteen year old braids back and forth like "Sudanese habiba (Arabic word for dear), not Habesha". What a feisty little kid, am I right? Needless to say, I was living it up. Adopting identities for an 8 hour flight and assisting the flight-attendants with the beverage cart (You can read up on that story here) were seriously the least of my mother's worries...we almost died remember?

As I boarded the plane, everything was playing out as it should be. The greeter checked our tickets at the gate, the stewardess helped us find our seats, the captain came on the intercom to introduce himself. It was a regular flight. Passengers fought for overhead luggage space, small kids were crying because it was a packed flight, and all I could worry about was when they would turn the in-flight entertainment system on. Shortly after, the flight attendants began their safety instructions. This was before all of those new in-flight safety videos were a "thing". (Watch my favorite one here) As the most mundane aspect of the flight experience, I'm glad these airlines switched things up.

What can't the airlines change? The whole takeoff and landing drill. I guess it's kind of important. Gearing up for takeoff, my mother promptly adjusted her seat and clenched my hand. You would think the lady was dying already. She hates takeoffs, and it was always a big scene when the plane was either ascending or descending. There were always multiple prayers read, eyes shut tightly with my poor hand clenched within hers. She's so adorable in that way. I bore the pain and released what was left of my hand as soon as we were at a cruising altitude.

Freeing up my limb, I was able to begin my binge-watching. Any and all movies I had missed or   were deemed "inappropriate" by my mother were now fare game. I remember staring at that small airplane screen for hours. Trying to hold back sleep to get to the ending of one of the "Bad Boys" films was the ultimate struggle. I guess you could say I was "hip" to binge watching before it became a thing. *Brushes shoulders off * I don't remember much about my dream while aboard that plane because well...I was living the dream, I was flying. The next thing I remember is hearing a voice over the intercom instructing everyone to stay calm and sit back down in their seats. As I cleared the crusties from my eyes, I saw a man with a video camera pointing towards the window. Looking for comfort in my mothers eyes, I saw nothing but fear. Actually, her eyes were closed, and she was holding on to us for dear life. Still, fear. That poor woman.

Not even five minutes later, I heard a loud pop and saw a black figurine dash past the window. A tire had just popped off the plane. Sort of an important feature for takeoff and landing. The ground seemed much closer than before, people were out of their seats, flight attendants were attempting to create order from the chaos, but failing terribly. The woman in the row in front of us held on to her baby, and I'm pretty sure almost everyone on that plane believed it was our time. I remember thinking that if I'm going to die, I sure am glad I'm on this plane, surrounded by my family and in the process of doing what I love most. Thinking back, I can't help but glow about my optimism. Seriously, what thirteen year old thinks like that? Feisty and optimistic? Little me was the best!

Bracing for the landing, my brothers and I held on tight to my mom. "I love you", I thought to myself. After bumps, turbulence and undoubtedly some screams along with the multiple memorized prayers, I slowly opened my eyes. Bewildered, I looked outside to find that although we had lived, we were only feet away from the main entrance hall to the airport in Sudan. We completely missed the tarmac. Stepping out into that hot Sudan sun gave me an unimaginable feeling. I felt...alive, and I was! I was in God's hands and he knew my time wasn't up yet. Our time wasn't up yet. I still had a lot more flying to do...

Why I Still Fly:

Most people look at me like I'm crazy after they hear this story. I'm constantly bombarded with questions like "How do you still get on planes?" "And so frequently?" "You must not have learned from that first time, huh?" The thing is my fellow wanderers, I love planes. I love flying. I love travel and adventure and experiences...ohhhh how I love experiences. While I was scared out of my mind, I found solace in knowing that what was going to happen to me was meant for me, and what missed me was never for me in the first place. Just because I had a bad experience on a plane once, I refused to allow that experience to determine my flight experiences for the rest of my life. Albeit, flying for the first time after I almost died, I was a bit apprehensive, this fear eased over time, as all wounds do. But wounds, they heal, and fear, it can be subdued. All it takes is time, patience and a little bit of courage. So while I might be "crazy" for hopping back on plane after plane, this type of crazy is the type I will wholeheartedly embody, because it allots room for growth and room for healing. You can't heal if you focus solely on the wound. Wear your battle scars proudly loves!

 

 
I want to hear about YOUR travel experiences! What's your favorite in-flight safety video? Have you ever almost died? What's your craziest plane experience?  Let me know in the comments below!

 

 

 

Happy Wandering...

 

The Beauty of Being Lost

 

At seven years old I concluded that my brother was dead. Mortified, I watched as my father came crashing to the ground with tears in his eyes. We had lost my brother at Virginia Beach. None of us had any idea where he disappeared to. After frantically searching the strip and having lifeguards check all throughout the ocean, after filing a report with the police and watching my mother losing her mind, I had no doubts that he was somewhere lifeless.

 

Meanwhile, the little twerp, Lofy, was in some ice cream shop happily licking the last bits of his cone. After having spent a good hour and a half walking the beach, he decided it might be a good idea to find a police officer. What always got me about Lofy's escapade was the fact that he wandered aimlessly for such a long time before he asked for help. It wasn't until an hour and a half later that he felt like he needed some direction.  It didn't even affect him that he had no idea where anyone was or in which direction he was headed. See, even at a young age my brother knew the beauty of being lost. While most kids would cry at the thought of separation from their family, this kid just kept going. And although he gave us all a heart attack and just about ruined our family trip, his insight was inspirational. 

 

Most of us freak out at the thought of being lost or not having any direction. Whether that be manifested in our daily life or as we're on a road trip, the unknown is scary, and we don't like it! So why is that? What about the unknown makes it so scary? And why do we make it so hard to enjoy? I can't answer all of these questions, but I do know why I am scared of the unknown, and how I was able to overcome my fear to see how eye-opening an experience it can really be.  

 

I've always been scared of the dark which I think is symbolic of what being lost is; moving aimlessly with your hands out trying to stop yourself from running into something or someone, and making sure you don't get hurt. Our human instinct is to keep ourself safe, and the easiest way to do that is when we can SEE where we are going. Not having that insight into which direction we are headed, or what our final destination is, makes it difficult to make sound decisions.

 

This is part of the reason that being in your early 20's is horrific as hell. You're looking for some sort of direction, possibly frantically searching for it, and always coming up short. Always feeling like this might not be the way and choosing a different path. You're continuously searching for the police officer to let you know where to go until you realize that you have to be your own sheriff. You have to be the captain of your ship and the driver of your car and boy is it frightening. Being boldly thrusted into adulthood is draining and leaves you frazzled. 

 

I like to think of myself as an adult. Ok, total lie, I really would like to think of myself as a kid so that I could get rid of my responsibilities, but I'm unfortunately an adult now. As such, I enjoy plans. I can't do the whole "see you around 8" ordeal. What does that mean? 8:15? 8:45? 8:01? Am I really supposed to wait around for an hour to possibly see you? Give me a time!

 

For me, everything needs a plan. Driving to D.C.? How am I getting there? Where am I staying? What am I going to do there? I just like to be prepared. And more than anything, I like to be in the know. Although I am able to go with the flow, I much prefer to have things worked out. That doesn't mean these plans are scheduled way in advance, just that my affairs are in order. I have no problem jumping on the next flight out, as long as I have a place to lay my head. Even if merely hours before the trip, a plan is still a plan. Getting lost is never in the plan, and that used to be an issue for me. 

 

How did I make it a non-issue? I traveled. I went out and I saw the world and all that it offered. It was out in the world that I discovered that life has no structure. Things happen at their own time and move at their own pace. I came to realize that the cliché "everything happens for a reason" is remarkably true. All of my time being lost has had some sort of divine consequence that I may not even be aware of yet. Bear with me as I try to explain.

 

I believe that when you ask for something, life is not one to just give it to you, but to put you in circumstances in which you can gain what you've asked for. It is then your duty to take the proper steps into making your wishes come true. It's like when you ask for patience and you're given a long line at the bank. Welcome to "patience". Sometimes, the opportunities we ask for aren't presented to us in the way we want them, but that doesn't mean they're not presented. I've asked multiple times for patience myself, as well as cultural awareness, and aide in being continuously grateful. Each time I get lost, I believe that it's another opportunity life is giving me so that I may receive one of these things, if not another, that I've asked for. I try to take it as a learning experience. What better way to learn to be grateful than to suddenly find yourself in the slums of Istanbul? Sure, I was headed to a café to meet a friend, and I was undoubtedly going to be late, but that hour I spent walking around trying to find my way, I saw indescribable appearances and situations. Once I finally reached my destination, I drank my coffee voluptuously, knowing how sweet my "misfortune" was in comparison to so many. Gratitude.

 

I know what I do about the world because of the millions of times I've been lost. In the millions of places that it's happened. I've learned a lot. Because of the hundreds of times I didn't know where I was going or who was going with me. I didn't know who would meet me on the other side, or what events would present themselves. I was scared and I was lonely, but all of those fears manifested themselves into opportunities. Opportunities for growth and for self-knowledge. I've gotten to know myself more, and really discover what I'm made of. Who I am, and what I can and wont do. 

 

So get lost. Literally, walk out and roam. Turn off your GPS, and know that it's ok. You'll be fine. Trust in yourself and believe in your instincts my lovely wanderer, for you were born to be wild. Life is scary, but there is no cheat code, and your plans will all go awry....because life! Prepare for the unexpected, and learn to roll with the punches. Understand how beautiful it can be to live in the dark, if even for a short period of time. That's why I admired Lofy so much that day at the beach, because even though he was merely seven, he came to understand what it took me twenty-two years to figure out. The beauty of being lost. And you never know, while you're busy being lost, you might end up finding yourself.

 

 

Happy Wandering...