Leaving The Shire

Sitting in a plane (Delta, window seat), red-eye flight from LAX to JFK. I’ll be stopping in New York for a couple days before departing for Haiti in order to wrap up a few pre-quest details. Wasn’t planning on writing this post; wasn’t planning on writing anything until I arrived in Port-au-Prince—however, the mood struck.

If the last few weeks have been spent preparing myself logistically for this trip (sending emails, making phone calls, securing my grant from Amherst, visiting REI, etc.), the last few days have been spent preparing myself mentally. What this means, exactly, is that I entered a self-induced stupor of relaxation and lethargy that should, by all social standards, be reserved only for newly born babies and the terminally ill. Unlike babies and dying people, I’ve been gorging myself on food and drink, exploring the many eateries that Los Angeles has to offer (I recommend Umami) and enjoying the company of friends. Perhaps my subconscious was doing its best to prepare me for the hectic months ahead or perhaps I’m just lazy, but whichever the case, it has been a great surprise, despite so many months of anticipation and planning, to actually find myself on this plane, nursing the shattered remains of my slothful self.

These past few days had left me in a state of neutrality and composure: when my mom asked me, a few hours before this flight, how and what I was feeling with regards to the trip, I told her in all honesty that I felt nothing. No anxiety and no great excitement. I liked the idea of being a blank slate. This blankness followed me through check-in (the sequence of self check-in at diagonally grouped kiosks followed by check-in with an employee at the standard horizontal desk, both of which have long lines, seems to me a cruel perversion of geometry and social hierarchy) and it followed me through security. I can only imagine the vacant look I had on my face while waiting for the security agent to meticulously blacklight every millimeter of my driver’s license. Combining this empty facial expression with the rifle-holder-styled viola case tucked under my arm, it’s a wonder I got through security without hassle.

The blankness even followed me onto the plane, shuffling past the frowns and Blackberries of first class and into the hectic, though generally more life-content arena of economy. Upon take-off, however, I felt a sudden onset of anticipation. I began visualizing everything that could possibly happen in these next couple months; everything that could go wrong and everything that could go right. With all these thoughts bouncing around in my head, it’s hard to sit still and impossible to sleep, and it is this barrage of anticipation that has led to the long and wildly uninteresting post that you have so kindly read.

I need a distraction. I almost wish they would replay the safety video featuring the creepy southerners who assure me that whether or not the bag inflates, oxygen will surely be flowing through the mask. I’ll never believe it.

That’s all for now. More (and more interesting) posts to follow.