Well, the moment came. I boarded my flight to London Heathrow on January 21st and arrived in Leicester on the 23rd. I would like to say that the journey overseas was easy, that my flight was uneventful and that I was greeted with open arms upon stepping foot into my new home, but what would be the fun in that?
The night before my departure I was feeling anxious and nervous to be leaving everything behind and departing on this adventure solely by myself. All these feelings are natural to experience before you move somewhere, or before you have a big game to play, or before a first date. But for me, someone who experiences anxiety in certain situations, a fact that I don't often disclose to people (until now I guess) these feelings often overwhelm. In this particular case they resulted in me having stomach pains and throwing up the whole night before my flight left...and then again in the car, and again in the airport. I gathered myself together long enough to approach the check in desk, only to discover that the luggage I had intended on bringing aboard my flight was too big and had to be checked as well. Thankfully, the man behind the counter took pity on my disheveled appearance, complete with kleenex box and plastic bag and checked it for free. After a brief anxiety attack between check in and departures in which what can only be described as a mild asthma attacked ensued I was in the clear; until hunger struck.
The small rectangle box of food landed on my folded down airplane tray wafting the smell of microwaved chicken and mashed potatoes seductively into my nose. Normally, airplane food is the equivalent of hospital food and both conjure images of overcooked vegetables and gross pudding cups, but to someone who hadn't eaten anything substantial in the last 12 hours, it was heavenly. Big mistake. If you haven't ever gotten sick in an airplane bathroom before don't start know. On the third trip there I felt faint and dizzy and was about to put my hands on my knees when they gave out and I passed out on the floor. The most notable thing about the experience, besides the odd smell of the airplane carpet flooring, was probably that no one noticed. Less than three feet ahead of me on my left sat two boys watching a movie and to the right a row of four people still eating their meals, and not one of them turned around. I simply picked myself back up and walked back to my seat with none the wiser.
When I landed in Heathrow I took the bus to the hotel where I was staying that night and after dragging my luggage back and forth two times between reception and my room I finally had to switch rooms 5 floors down because the lock on the original one didn't work. The next day I took a chartered bus along with other study abroad students to the University of Leicester. I arrived in my new home and woke up the next day to discover the one shower across the hall from me didn't work and the other didn't lock, and furthermore somewhere along the way my name had been crossed of the registration list for classes and I had to re-enroll in my courses.
There's a thing called Murphy's Law that says if anything can go wrong it will. I don't tend to believe in superstition, I don't mind walking under ladders or opening an umbrella inside, but if I ever meet this Murphy I will surely kick him in the face. Luckily, there is also a saying that goes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. After my first week here where I met really nice people from all over the world, went to parties on campus, moved into my room and attended classes I enjoyed, I choose to believe in the second saying.
