Arrivals

 Arrivals

We flew Finnair from Helsinki to London.  It was our last chance for blueberry juice, so we drank deeply from the cup.  We landed in Heathrow and had a few hour layover.  It was a pretty bad experience overall.  It’s a sprawling airport, and transportation between gates is convoluted and slow.  We had to re-go through security, which was similarly slow and inefficient.  Our bags were selected for random screening, and midway through the officer went on break and our bags were left unattended – and we were stuck with nothing to do – for about twenty minutes.  We had about three hours for our layover, but ultimately wound up with only about an hour to eat.  We ate at a nice restaurant and had some authentic British fish and chips, and everything was right with the world.  

Until the bill came and we were introduced the brutal exchange rate between the pound and the dollar.  On our way to the gate we found a play area that the kids were desperate to try.  So they had all of seven minutes there before we had to go to our gate, which turned out to be one of those gates where you board a bus to take to the plane.

Part of our discomfort was a bit of culture shock.  Everyone was speaking English.  Which they do in Finland too.  But everyone was talking.  All of the time.  Often times they were talking to us.  But they didn’t know us.  And they weren’t really talking about anything.  They were just sort of talking to have something to do.  Which is fine (look I’m as guilty of that as anyone) but it was something that we hadn’t really done at all in the last two months.  And trying to fit in in that environment felt awkward.  Like throwing a baseball with your left hand.  You can do it.  But it doesn’t feel right, and everyone can tell that it’s uncomfortable for you.

Part of our discomfort probably owed to our anxiety about how we would get home when we landed in Seattle.  We had seats booked on a shuttle that left at 7:00.  Originally our flight was scheduled to land at 5:00, which would leave us plenty of time.  But a couple of weeks before the flight, it was cancelled and rescheduled to 6:00.  We called the shuttle and they said that it was the last shuttle that day, but if we missed it they would reschedule us to a shuttle the following day, free of charge.  So we had a backup plan.  And an hour was still enough time.  We didn’t need any miracle.  We just needed things to go smoothly.  We just had to make sure we didn’t hit all of the red lights.  That wasn’t too much to ask.  Right?  Right?!?

We flew British Air.  Our plane sat on the tarmac for nearly an hour – a full half-hour after we were originally scheduled to depart.  Our first red light.  The flight itself was smooth enough.  

The food and fare weren’t as good as Finnair.  And the passengers seemed less socially minded than Finnish passengers; there was a lot more impoliteness, and cutting in line, and leaning into your space.  But some of it was probably just our general sadness to have left Finland and anxiety about the shuttle.  The kids slept, but Amy and I didn’t.  Instead I watched one of the worst films I’ve ever seen.  Maybe one of the worst films ever made.  We lost more time in the air as we had to divert to avoid some weather over Canada.  Another red light.  And another reason to dislike the Canadians.  Seriously.  Handle your business; control your weather.

When we landed we stood to grab our bags and make a quick exit.  Then the captain came over the intercom to announce that because of a medical emergency we all had to remain seated until they could evacuate a passenger.  Another red light.  And things were starting to look bad.  Now we needed green lights the rest of the way to make it.  When it was finally time to leave everyone stood up all at once, and people were pushing and cutting in line and scrambling over us to beat us out.  More red lights.

The only silver lining was that I figured that while all this was happening they were probably unloading the bags too.  So once we finally got off the plane I figured that we would jog to the baggage carousels and our bags would already be there.  We would grab them and still have to get through customs, but we’d have a chance to make it.  The kids were worried, but we kept reassuring them that it was still possible we’d be back in Ellensburg that night.  On the way down the hallway Amy was downloading the Mobile Passport Control (MPC) app, which we had seen advertised.  We had downloaded a lot of apps on our trip.  Some had been great.  Others had been worthless.  Most had been a minor convenience.  Something in the neighborhood of 5-10% off, or a free small fry.  Things like that.  But we figured it couldn’t hurt.  It was a bit involved.  She had to enter our passport information and take pictures of our faces, which was a bit inconvenient as we were deplaning and running through the airport.

We got to the carousel and our bags weren’t there.  Nobodies' bags were.  It hadn’t even started moving yet.  And this was when all of the lights seemed red and we were starting to panic.  It was 6:20.  None of the customs lines were very long, but they were starting to fill up as people from other flights were grabbing their bags.  Maybe if the carousel started right now, and ours were the first bags off, we’d be able to make it.  The carousel started at 6:35.  Our bags were not the first off.  Soon it was 6:40, and still no sign.

Now we weren’t going to be able to make it.  And that was heartbreaking.  We told the kids we’d have to stay overnight in Seattle.  They were sad.  Milo had a particular stuffie (Alligator, the true Gs will know) who he had been missing in Finland and had been very excited to see.  None of us wanted another night in a hotel bed.  But there was just nothing we could do.  The customs lines were getting long, and we still didn’t have our bags.  I went through the stages of grief.  After bargaining for so long and imagining that our bags must be the next ones out, I finally gave into despair.  And then I was angry.  Angry at those people pushing past us.  Angry at British Air.  Angry at that grumpy Swede from the tram.  And finally I came to accept the fact that our trip would be one unexpected night longer.  I thought about calling over to Amy to go ahead and book the hotel and the uber.  But she was busy comforting Milo, and I figured she already had it covered.  She’s good at things like that.  My one comforting thought was that at least we were going to miss the shuttle by a lot.  Half an hour, maybe more.  The worst thing would be to be running to catch the shuttle and see it pull away from the curb.  But that wasn’t going to happen.  Our bags still weren’t out.  It wasn’t going to be close.

They finally came off the carousel at 6:45.  We got to the entry to the customs line at 6:50.  By this point every line was at least twenty people deep.  As the guard figured out which line to put us in Amy showed her phone to me to remind me about the app.  “Oh yeah.”  I said dejectedly.  “We have MPC app.”  I figured maybe we’d get a coupon to the food court.  Which actually might be useful before we headed to our hotel.  “MPC app?”  He confirmed.  I nodded yes.  “Right this way” he said.  He ushered us to the front of an empty line.  The guard there looked at our passports, and then at us.  Maybe the app was magic.  Maybe we looked like we could use a break.  Maybe he’s pals with Alligator and knew that he needed to see Milo tonight.  I don’t know what it was, but he can’t have spent more than ninety seconds looking at us before growling “Welcome to the United States.” 

We were through customs.  I looked at my phone and announced the time.  It was 6:55.  We weren’t exactly sure where we were in the airport, or where we would connect with the main terminal.  We could be on the entire wrong side of the airport.  All we knew was that we were standing at the mouth of a long, sloping hallway with a tiny door at the very end of it.  Somewhere on the either side of that door, our shuttle would leave five minutes from now.  Against all odds, we now had a chance to make it.  But we’d have to run all the way there.  And it was now possible we would round the corner only to see it pull away.  It was going to be close.  Really really close.  I don’t remember us saying anything to each other.  We all four exchanged a knowing look  Then we started to run.  Cue the Chariots of Fire music.

For all the other things I only murkily remember, I will always have a sharp, visceral memory of us running down that hallway.  Amy and I each carrying five bags and over a hundred pounds a piece, hands gripped hermetically around our luggage handles; Milo holding onto his roller bag with both hands as it weaved crazily behind him as his feet flew down the ramp, grimacing as he struggled to maintain both speed and control; Oscar with arms spread wide like an airplane, hollering as he ran – unsure of why we were running but knowing that we needed him to run and totally able to do that.  The four of us dragging behind us all of the worldly possessions we had owned for the last two months.  Each of us urging our jetlagged and battered bodies to do just a little bit more, just one last time.  Each of us carrying the emotional weight of the last two months.  Each of us running with hearts that were at once both broken and full; each of us running with Sisu. 

We burst through door and found ourselves in sight of our shuttle.  It was still there.  We called and waved to the bus driver.  She saw us, and gave us the thumbs up, probably to tell us we didn’t have to run anymore.  We didn’t trust her.  We ran all the way.  We loaded our bags and climbed into the bus and found seats.  We boarded that shuttle at 6:59.  She pulled away from the curb promptly at 7:00.

“Valley View, huh?”  A voice in the row behind us said.  I figured he was talking on the phone.  “Valley View Elementary?”  I felt his hand on my shoulder and turned around.  I then realized I was wearing a t-shirt from the boys’ elementary school.  This stranger was talking to me.  But my mouth couldn’t quite work.  So I just nodded.  “My kids went there.”  He explained.  “Long time ago.”  I just nodded again.  Probably a bit offput that I wasn’t having a conversation with him, he shrugged his shoulders and looked out the window.  It was so weird.  It was a conversations that I’ve had hundreds of times in America, and never once in Finland.  And I didn’t know how to process it.  I was simultaneously both overwhelmingly happy to be having a random conversations with a stranger, and also it felt like a deep violation of social norms.  I had one foot in each country. 

We marveled at the familiar sights of Seattle and the north cascades as evening turned to night.  We had to stay awake to minimize the jet lag, but I think each of us was asleep at various stages.  We mostly looked out the window and appreciated the scenery of things we’d seen dozens of times but felt like we were seeing now for the first time.  A couple of hours later we were back in Ellensburg.  Mike and Eileen were kind enough to meet us at the shuttle stop and bring our car to us.  I hadn’t driven in two months.  More immediately, I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.  I was in no way a safe driver.  But that didn’t stop me from climbing behind the wheel and driving to our house.  We turned the key to the lock, and stepped back into our lives.  Milo got to give Alligator a tight hug.  We unloaded what we needed to, and saved the rest for the morning.  We crawled into our own beds for the first time in two months.  We all slept terribly.

We were back in Ellensburg.  Were we home?  That is a far more existential – and difficult – question to answer. 

Hei Hei