I wake up this morning feeling comfortable and grounded. It’s the beginning of our fourth week in the Philippines and any of the apprehension and anxiety I felt upon arrival has been dispelled. But before I can delve into our experiences here thus far, I feel it is only fitting to take a look back at how we got here and what our frantic whirlwind of a journey looked like.
(A little peek at one of the gorgeous places we've gotten to travel to... but first the journey here)
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Matt and I arrived back in London from Israel on the 28th of March, giving us a mere 10 days before our trip to the Philippines began. There is a necessary decompression period after traveling, where the traveler needs to stay still, to stop the perpetual motion and truly appreciate the fruits of his (or her) experience. With only 10 days and a number of things to do, this moment of reflection was short lived. While the first two days were spent in stasis at Matt’s dads, the following 8 were not. I hopped on a train and went back to London, a place that stands in direct opposition to tranquility and relaxation. Matt traveled south to visit his mom and some of his family in Dorset. On the 5th day of our hiatus in England, Matt returned to London and we went to one of his friend’s stag-do’s (bachelor party). While no one held a gun to my head and demanded I go, I couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to experience a uniquely named English tradition. The result was a really good time I have trouble remembering and two more days surrendered to the vortex (and hangover). This brings us to day 7, which saw me stumble into a clinic to receive some vaccinations. Day 8, Matt and I went to the Arsenal Hub to pick up kit; after we traveled back to Matt’s dad’s house. Day 9 we packed. Day 10 we left.
(Packing... lots of Arsenal gear)
As Matt's dad drove us to the airport on that final day, both Matt and I couldn’t help feel we needed just a little more time to do absolutely nothing, to get our minds right before this next adventure. But so it goes.
We made our way through security and to our gate, where we waited for boarding. As we sat at the gate, a plane bearing the words “PHILIPPINES AIRLINES” stared back at us through the window. It seemed so distant and foreign. I couldn’t quite grasp that I was embarking on another trip. I should have been experiencing joy and elation, but my tired eyes only felt a sense uneasiness and hesitation. I risked setting the wrong tone for this journey. Like the returning traveler who needs to slow down in order to reset, the embarking traveler needs energy and drive to get in the right frame of mind. Unfortunately I had neither, but I would soon find my catalyst.
Our rows were called and Matt and I entered the plane. We sat down and patiently waited as the rest of the passengers filed down the aisles. It started to become very apparent that our flight was not full nor would be remotely close to filling up. People with shared seats coyly began to scan the rows. Soon, more heads stretched eagerly up, craned back and forth, plotting the moment for the coup. The game of social chess ensued, as everyone waited for the first person to make the move.
Not wanting to fall behind and waste the opportunity, I stood up and coolly slid into the row next to Matt and me. I had done it, and covertly at that. A sense of calm overcame me. As we continued to wait, more people skittishly followed suit. Feeling on top of the world, I closed my eyes, ready to leave.
Several minutes later, I heard some commotion coming down the aisle. A large man wearing swim trunks and sporting several tribal tattoos was being helped along by two of the stewardesses. He was quietly explaining to them he was ok, but the glazed look in his eyes and the way he swayed with each step told another story: the man was wasted. Drunk. Intoxicated. Inebriated. Probably blacked out. I watched him stumble towards my row. “No no no no no no” repeated itself in my mind. He stopped, pulled out his ticket and showed it to the flight attendant. She pointed to the row behind me.
Relief. That’s what I felt.
I watched him take a good minute to put his bag in the overhead cabin, as each time his arms lifted the bag above his head, a force pushed him backwards into the seat behind him, where he gathered himself for another attempt. Bag finally secured, his blank eyes looked forward. And he made his choice. He sat down next to me. Drunk people on a plane are an absolute gamble. Correction, drunk people anywhere are a gamble. They can be kind and harmless or angry and capricious. I prayed for the first time in 10 years. Please be innocuous.
The man stood up to go to the bathroom. On his way back I watched him fall on his face. I got my first taste of the Filipino culture in that moment. In America, the man would have been yelled at and forcibly removed from the plane. Instead, on this plane, the Filipinos quietly helped him to his seat and casually brought him some water to drink.
We started to taxi soon after the fall. I was still silently requesting God make this man pass out for the entire flight when I heard Matt: “Jamie, Jamie look.” I followed his outstretched finger to the window, where I saw an airplane in the distance on fire. “This is the flight my life ends,” I thought. I was ready for the Philippines.
We took off. The attendants handed out newspapers, which the drunken man took in order to look as inconspicuous as possible. However, he attempted to read it upside down for about 30 seconds, foiling his plan. Later we were brought menus and ipads (for movies). The man leaned over and asked me something indiscernible about the menu. I told him to order the beef. As I watched him struggle with the iPad (which even I had trouble with), I began to feel bad for him. I reached over and helped navigate him to the movies. He was fervent in his thanks, tapping my shoulder several times to give me a thumbs up. About two hours into the flight, we had become so close the man asked in drunken English if he could place his head on my armrest and essentially my lap. Instead, I gave him the row and headed to a free seat. Several movies later and we landed in Manila.
In a way, I owe that man a thank you. He, along with the burning plane, kicked me into gear in a way that made me ready to travel again and to embrace the amazing experiences to come.
