day 1 continued

We had a five hour layover in NY. Sitting in or near an airport was not the ideal place to spend 5 hours. I convinced two young ladies to take the Airbus, the A train and the S train to Far Rockaway Beach, B116 to be exact. We arrived 1 hour later on a very crowded S train; it seemed like all the high schools emptied out onto our S train. We found a deli, bought some sandwiches, chips and cold drinks and proceeded to the beach area. We found a table shaded by an umbrella advertising some local goodies by one of those great smelling everything fried beach stands. I resisted the soft serve even though I knew I wouldn’t see ice cream where I was going, definitely not soft serve.

We enjoyed getting to know each other, Lauren, Abbie, and me. We noticed it was 3PM. We were taking an international flight, this means you need to arrive 2 hours earlier than departure. Do the math, it was 3, it took an hour to get to Far Rockaway and our flight was scheduled to leave at 4:45PM back at JFK. Hmmmmmmm. We had definitely lost track of time. Airports run on time. Subways do not. There was a little anxiety building as we waited, seated on the train, 15 minutes for the S train to move out of the track. Another 15 minute wait, this time on the hot platform at Broad Channel for the A to Howard Beach, and another wait for the Airbus to terminal 3. The city subway system had let me down so many times in my previous life in New York, depending on it as my mode of transportation as a commuter was crazy. But now I was a tourist, showing off NYC, this shouldn’t be happening. Abbie used her phone internet to find the gate number and we raced through the corridors to the security check point. Oh My Goodness. There were about 100 people waiting to go through security. It was now 4PM; I had a boarding pass without an assigned seat. We found an official looking Delta airlines person and ended up on the special line. We were certainly special.
As I ran to the gate my mind was flooded with spiritual questions. How does one explain the fact that we can get a JFK terminal map, in seconds, displayed on our phones while sitting on a subway and the New York City subway system has never run on a schedule? Was this an omen from Africa? What did it mean? Was I experiencing a premonition from the world I was about to visit? I have to pee, where’s the nearest bathroom? Gate 4, we made it. I waited at the ticketing desk and a gentle soft spoken Ghanaian man told me not to worry, go to the bathroom. He couldn’t give me a seat yet. Should I be concerned? I took a deep breath. I went to pee?

Professor hartigan told me that earlier, when he was in the men’s room, he heard my name paged and ran out to the desk to tell them I was in the terminal. I can hardly comprehend the names coming out of the speakers in an airport. Amazing to be traveling with musicians, they hear all sorts of things. The flight didn’t finish boarding until after 5PM. We sat, closed in in the plane, at the gate for an hour before we taxied to the runway. Everything was late; I soon learned that this was Ghana time.

The cool seats in a jet are the seats in the exit door rows. They are more spacious. Those are the first to get reserved. I had the last seat in the rear of the jet. I think it was 54F, against the bathroom wall, on the aisle. I was able to take cat naps but didn’t ever feel rested. I watched a bittersweet romance called Dear John. I had nothing but time to waste, don’t waste yours. I won for having the most interesting neighbor on the plane, a Ghanaian woman, my age with a similar personal story. She raised 4 boys. She moved to No. Carolina part time 4 years ago and now makes her home there. She imports clothing and has traveled all over the map. We had so much to share. Honestly, her stories are incredible anyone of them would make a good book, especially the one that takes place at the start of the revolution, fleeing Liberia with two young boys, besieged by gunshots. I will call her while I am in Ghana and possibly we’ll see each other again in Accra before I return to the states. I will definitely invite her to visit New Bedford. I would love for her to meet our students.

Too bad I am having trouble uploading great photos.
Next entry immediately follows.
All the best, Ms. Brown