Lone Travler @ 17 | Teen Ink

Lone Travler @ 17

March 4, 2015
By Itsjustmorgan BRONZE, Petal, Mississippi
Itsjustmorgan BRONZE, Petal, Mississippi
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"No."-Rosa Parks


I have always had a taste for traveling to new places on search for something different. Staying still for too long just isn't my thing. So for my seventeenth birthday my parents surprised me well: a trip to the Windy City. Not just any trip, but by myself, well the first half anyway; I would meet my grandparents when I arrived.  I was not going to be driving that far especially alone so plane tickets were included. Flying isn't something I was actually accustomed to but I wasn't worried, I like new adventures. My flights consisted of going from Gulfport to Atlanta from Atlanta to Chicago. Three terminals with a two and a half hour layover in Atlanta, the busiest airport in the United States, by myself.

The morning of my departure was one of our warmest days in December so I dressed pretty light. We got to the Gulfport airport around 6:30 with my departure time set at 8. I had a habit if being early everywhere I went. Unless we're talking about school. I dropped off my suitcase and headed to my gate with nothing but my purse and my book bag. 

I loaded the plane and found my proper seat. 23C it was a window seat, thank goodness, I was really hoping I would be able to watch the plane take off. The ride was short only about an hour and a half.  Once we landed I was overwhelmed, the airport was huge and there were so many people, some were just strolling and some where running as if their plane had left them behind; perhaps it had, I needed to make sure that wouldn't be me. I had a two hour layover before my next flight. Which gave me time to find my terminal and gate then catch some lunch and explore. It took me about fifteen minutes to find my gate; I had to take an underground train just to get there. Once I found my gate I remembered how I got there and took off exploring, and I knew exactly where I wanted to go: the international terminal.

The international terminal was terminal G. It was the biggest and fanciest terminal in the airport. The stores ranged anywhere from Prada to Fendi. I was in heaven and I haven't even made it to Chicago yet. But I went straight to the food court and found a Chic-Fil-A, there were so many options most of which I had never heard of so I stuck to something I was ver fond of: chicken.

Once I finished eating I walked around just to see where all the planes where going. Paris, Australia, Tokyo, Germany, anywhere you could imagine there would be a plane flying there. I didn't really go in the stores and shop because I knew I would get plenty of that in Chicago. With forty five minutes until my departure I made it back to my gate and used the bathroom once again, and waited for my plane.

The lady behind the counter called for business class, quickly gathered my things and loaded the plane. This plane was a good bit bigger than my last plane, it had a row of three on one side and a row of two seats on the other; still not as big as I had seen in the movies but it was still pretty big. With my carry-on tucked away in the overhead and my seat belt buckled, the flight attendant finished her long, over-exaggerated way of how to use your seat cushion as a floatation in the chance that the pilot decides he wants to take the plane for a swim. And for my sake, I hoped that he wouldn't because I was so excited I didn't bother to listen to the correct procedures.

Within a second we were buzzing down the runway, my head was pushed to the back of my head rest and my ears were popping, but being that I had just done this a couple of hours ago I just sat back put my headphones on and listened to one of my music playlists I had on shuffle. The playlist repeated almost twice when we started descending; I was mid-chorus in Eddie Money's Take Me Home Tonight and my excitement was building, so far to the point where I was ready to start dancing and singing as soon as my feet hit Chicago pavement.

Once I got off the plane I practically ran to baggage claim. I had to get to my grandparents as quick as possible because that meant the sooner I could get into the city. Unfortunately as soon as I found my grandparents, my grandmother told me we wouldn't be able to get into the city until tomorrow due to extreme winter temps 12 below zero. We went outside to get in the car and the ground was covered in snow, I was freezing, I was dressed for a warm Mississippi winter not winter extreme. I then understood while we weren't going into the city that day and I was grateful.

The next morning I awoke and threw on the warmest clothes I had packed. Today was warmer, with a high of 5 degrees. We spent all day strolling up and down the Magnificent Mile. Burberry, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Tiffany's, you name it. I went to the best places of my life. Most people would say Disney World, Universal, or some other amusement park, but I knew Chicago was my town. We shopped until we literally couldn't walk anymore, mainly because we were frozen in our own shoes. The next couple of days we spent doing the same thing, as well as eating at as many places as possible: Gino's, The Purple Pig, Portillo's, and the fanciest of all The Grand Lux. Some of the best food I have ever eaten.

Sadly my three days came to an end and I was packing my suitcase back up to head back to lame ole Mississippi. I put all my goodies from shopping in my carry on and everything else in my checked bag. The next morning I awoke with drag in my step loaded the car and set out to the airport. Upon arrival I dropped my suitcase off at the curb and tipped the the worker that took it for me. I only had an hour before take off so I went to a Starbucks next to my gate to get some breakfast while I waited. Approximately seven hours later I was back in Gulfport, Mississippi where my whole adventure started. I got off my plane and headed downstairs to get my suitcase and head home. I ended up waiting 45 minutes at the luggage claim to find out my suitcase never made it back. Chicago messed up and sent my bag to Minnesota. Who goes to Minnesota? I was told my luggage should arrive in three days, if all goes well. Three days later, like they said, my suitcase did arrive; completely broken like it had been thrown off the back of a fast moving truck. Luckily nothing was broken and everything was in sure accounted for. Despite the suitcase, it was the best trip I have ever gone on. Not just because of Chicago but flying and the different airports; doing most of it all by myself. It made me feel more mature and independent, and I would do it again in a heart beat.



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