I moved to South Korea on Friday.
But I really didn’t get there till well, Sunday.
26 hours of traveling. Boston to Chicago to Tokyo to South Korea.
I left at 9 AM on Friday and arrived at my apartment at 1 in the morning, Korea time, Sunday.
Korea is fourteen hours ahead of Massachusetts. Or as Rosie put it “What the hell? I can’t do that kind of math!”
It started with a super emotional scene at the airport, with me basically sobbing my way through the security line while my family and boyfriend wave.
Bye my favorite people in the world. Bye warm, comfy bed covered in Romeo hair. Bye pizza and popcorn and Wendy’s and mac and cheese and …. okay never mind. I make it through security and ignore all the staring faces and find a last little glimpse of my family on the other side. Sob, Wave.
Bye my beautiful family.
I make it to Chicago in no time. No more crying for me. I’m in traveling mode now and that means no thinking just doing. I get a massive cheese burger at O’Hare to make myself feel better and go to my next gate. It was delayed an hour and a half but I finally make it on the plane with the other 500 people and slowly wait in line till I can get to my seat. One glance at the lettering overhead tells me K is a window seat. Nice. There is seat 53. Almost there. Annnnnnnnnd nevermind. Just as I’m about to get in I realize there is a incredibly ancient and small Japanese woman in my seat. Seriously I didn’t even see her. She was tiny. And old. Like Japanese foot-binding, wrinkled puckered mouth old.
I plop in the middle seat and have a serious debate in my head about whether or not to tell her.
She’s so old, you should let her have the seat
Okay but do you seriously want to be squished in the middle the whole time?
She definitely doesn’t speak English, how will I explain it to her?
ITS FOURTEEN FUCKING HOURS. She can’t have your seat.
So I take out my ticket and show her that mine has “K” on it and point to her seat.
She gives me big brown eyes and “okay I understand” nod. But she doesn’t understand. Not at all. I can’t push it further. I resign myself to a miserable 14 hours in-between a rock and a sweet Japanese great-grandmother.
I eventually make it to South Korea, arriving to a tiny, dirty, freezing apartment. I am ferociously exhausted and slowly understanding that I may have just made the biggest mistake of my entire life.