Washington Week: Student Voices (O)

COLUMN: With cancelled flights & long lines, terrorism becomes a reality
By Amber Colvin
The Daily Campus (U. Connecticut)
08/14/2006

(U-WIRE) STORRS, Conn. — There are roughly 4,000 miles between Amsterdam and Grand Rapids, Mich.

This past Thursday, there might as well have been four billion. I thought I would never make it home. Oh, was I ready to be home.

After studying in London for the summer, all that stood between me and my mom's home cooking was a train ride and three flights: Amsterdam to Washington D.C., D.C. to Chicago and Chicago to Grand Rapids.

How could I have known I would be flying on one of the worst days for international travel ever?

While we all gaped at our televisions when the two towers of the World Trade Center crumbled nearly five years ago, in Michigan that scene played out more like a movie.

But this past Thursday, I found myself dumping bottles of shampoo and a half-drunk Diet Coke in the trash because of terrorism. It was the day terrorism became real to me.

No liquids could be carried on the plane. Why was my mango-flavored chapstick a threat to my flight? I didn't know. I could only pick up tidbits from fellow passengers.

Across the United Kingdom, 20 people had been arrested, maybe more. They reportedly intended to blow up passenger planes flying to the United States. Flights out of London's Heathrow and Gatwick Airports were canceled. Customs was going to be hell.

With that information alone, I felt clueless. Soon my pilot came over the speakers, his timid voice resonating in the terminal as we waited to board our delayed plane.

"You guys have to be my eyes and ears on this plane today," he said. "Watch your neighbor a little closer. Be a little suspicious."

Then I felt scared.

He didn't share details of what was going on, just what we had to do. He was trying to calm us down, but I could tell by the apprehension in his voice that even he was nervous.

The woman sitting next to me told her friend that for the first time since Sept. 11, the security level had been raised to red. My cheeks flushed that exact color as I tried not to show the tears welling in my eyes.

I considered calling home and saying my last good-byes — just in case. But I realized it was barely dawn back home and that calling would only be playing into my fear.

So I gathered up any courage I had and marched down the tunnel toward my plane.

For the next eight hours I never relaxed, never blinked for more than a second, never ate, never left my tiny seat.

I watched the little airplane icon inch forward on the map in front of me — over the United Kingdom, over the Atlantic Ocean, over New York and finally to Washington D.C.

The wheels of the plane touched down, but I couldn't exhale just yet. I had survived the most dangerous leg of my journey. Now I had to fight through the most exhausting segment.

I waited in a suffocating, sweaty line only to get grilled by an immigration officer. Next came a line to pick up our suitcases. Then a line to get our luggage inspected and a line for a personal security check.

I joked to the couple beside me that I'd have to wait in line to go to bed that night. Inside, I wondered if I would actually get to bed that night.

We moved like cattle, barefoot and stripped of our layers. No bulky sweatshirts. All laptops must be inspected.

Many of us were bitter about missing our next flights. But we hoped these hoops we had to jump through would keep us safe.

After a stifling two hours, I stepped into the actual airport. My flight to Chicago had long since departed. Another line (yay!) at the customer service desk got me a standby ticket for the next flight and back on schedule.

As I crumbled in a heap next to a canary-yellow payphone, I called my mom to tell her everything was all right. I probably wasn't convincing, as every word was uttered between sobs.

The worrying, the lines, the rude employees — everything had absolutely drained me. And I still had a long way to go.

A delay-filled seven hours later, an incoherent zombie my parents somehow welcomed as their daughter stumbled through the Grand Rapids airport. More than 24 hours of travel finally brought me home. I felt years older.

Is terrorism something we simply have to deal with now? Throughout the day, I remembered how different things were five years ago, and how I never realized this is a problem that just won't disappear. It was a harsh welcome to our new reality.

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