The Flight From Beijing

This will be like the clowns
in the VW trick--thinks the van driver 
(the one in the red shirt).

 The departure from Beijing was part chaotic closure to a four-week adventure and part exhilaration at the thought of going home. Again, the luggage. It’s a good thing we weren’t an army on a mission or we would have failed to meet many rendezvous points. We were not a group that moved easily, quietly, or efficiently. An 8:30 a.m. luggage call pulled everyone to the hotel lobby and the scales to weigh bags destined for the U.S. The goal was 22 kilos or less to avoid overage charges. Ah, the repacking, rearranging, and discarding. Susan and I weighed luggage back in Shanghai, so we had more time to toss any excess weight. Blue jeans, old tee-shirts, clothes that had seen more than their share of wear in China, half-empty bottles of shampoo, and packages of wet wipes and tissues became the detritus of the exodus from China. 

The first departure surprise was from the van driver who was transporting our luggage to the airport. See the photo and remember the number of bags I reported earlier. Then notice that he is in a van! He made it. We were warned NOT to open the van door and told that “late” luggage would be hauled to the bus by the owners. The van pulled out of the hotel drive exceeding its load limit for sure and headed down the narrow alley. More about alley ways later.

Before the airport, there was one final stop at Olympic Village. It didn’t seem the same without athletes and national flags and cheering crowds, but I was impressed with the vast space and lack of shade. I snapped the obligatory photos and tried to get a posed shot on one of those little riding machines, but no go. I had the option of renting and riding, but I had made it this far without an injury and thought it best not to risk it on the last hours in Beijing.

Loved the wall. Too late to join the races though.

When we approached the airport, I knew I was home free. After the train station, I had no concern about pulling my belongings into the queue of travelers, making my way to the first security check, easing toward the second security check, catching the tram to the terminal, maneuvering another check point and finding the right gate. Even at the ticket counter, there was still some gnashing of teeth by fellow travelers and more than a few credit cards pulled out. When the rules say 50 pound limit, they mean 50 pound limit. Not 51 pounds.

I might have been under the weight limit, but for some reason, I was targeted for two carry-on searches at security points. My own on-the-go repacking left a trail through the airport. Maybe it was the hat that gave me a suspicious profile.

It was at the first security check when I ran into problems. My iPod was in the bottom of the carry-on. I had taken out my computer, put my hat in the x-ray basket, tossed in my phone, and declared no liquids. People ahead of me told me iPads and iPods were not a problem. Then, I got the signal to empty my bag. Of course the iPod was at the bottom, so everything came out in a jumbled heap. There was a line waiting their turn—well, there were lines everywhere--so speed was a necessity. Back through the machine. Another warning. The iPad, which had been clearly on top in plain view was now the problem, so again I emptied my bag and put the iPad in a plastic tub. All those hours of carefully packing the organized carry-on went out the window. As I left the security checkpoint (minus the water bottle I had just bought), I was balancing a travel blanket and a sweatshirt and would have been holding my passport between my teeth except that I stopped to rearrange. A very nice worker got the blanket and another woman, emptying trash bins got the sweatshirt. Lightening my load.

Window Seat--The better to see Beijing.

A step ahead.

The plane ride was smooth sailing. I had a window seat, my favorite pillow, no water, and a handful of Wintergreen lifesavers. I was also wired—too much adrenaline. For the next twelve plus hours, I listened to music, looked out the window, watched the flight pattern on the movie screen, and dozed—images of all the places we visited flashed across my mind. Even quiet meditation didn’t work. The pillow was no help. Then we landed in Newark. Then we landed in Nashville. Then 30 people were stumbling to collect 100 pieces of luggage and find family. It was over. As quickly as it started and as long as we thought it would be, it was done and we were back to our regular American lives—almost. And we got another opportunity to relive Thursday thanks to the time factor. I know now that it will take a lifetime to absorb those four weeks of experience and there's a lifetime to exchange emails and Skype with new friends in Shanghai and Beijing.