London
There are people running around everywhere. Confusion filling the airport, where to go what to do, no one knew. Thank God for the security lady helping us out, otherwise I’m pretty sure my sister and I would still be stuck in London. I’m never flying alone I thought to myself, pushing through crowds of people left and right, trying to keep up with the security woman. I have flown through this airport every summer to get from Germany to San Francisco. I have its blueprint’s branded into my brain, but for the first time I couldn’t make out anything. I’ve never seen more people in my life. I turn to the security lady, “What is going on?” I ask baffled.
“A terrorist attack of some sort,” She replies pushing the wheelchair of an old man into the elevator, his wife, my sister and I trying to cram in after her.
“A what?” The wife asks frightened.
“I’m not sure of the details yet, it just happened an hour ago. It seems that your plane was the last to take off the ground and arrive in London. Everyone I’ve talked to has heard a different story. I don’t actually know what’s going on,” she tries to explain to us.
“Oh my god, we’re all going to die. I’m never flying again. Honey, we’re taking a boat home. There’s no way we’re flying back to New York! I’m not dying today.” The woman turns to us and asks “Where are you guys from?”
“San Francisco” I reply calmly, feeling completely safe because we live on the other side of the country.
“San Francisco…New York…It’s all one country, we’re all going to die. The terrorists will board either plane and kill us all,” she responds.
That is exactly the one thing you shouldn’t say to two young girls who are about to fly home alone. The security lady tries to reassure me that it really doesn’t work that way, and we’re all going to be fine. I pretend to believe her for my younger sister’s sake. We walk in circles. There are lines everywhere and even the security lady is starting to get confused which way we should go. We take secret elevators and walk up and down terminals that are closed to the general public until we get to the original check-in counters. This part of the airport is packed with angry travelers, all wanting to know what the hell is going on. There are signs throughout the airport saying “No Liquids” and security guards holding out plastic bags and pointing to more signs showing you what you have to do with the plastic bags. My sister and I look at each other completely puzzled, how did they print, laminate and put up so many posters in the one hour we were in the air between Germany and London? It just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t get a chance to ask the security lady because she is still trying to calm down the wild wife screaming everywhere “we’re going to die, we’re all going to die!”
After what seems like an eternity we finally get to the United Airlines check in area. We look up at the computer screen, trying to find our flight to San Francisco.
“Great,” I say turning to my sister “Our flight is still flying home. We can get out of here.” Right as I say this, the word delayed on the screen changes to cancelled.
Oh great, what are we going to do now? My hands start sweating and my passport slips right out of my hands onto the floor. I lean down to pick it up but the guy next to me kicks it as he walks by. I walk forward a little bit and try to pick it up again as the next person kicks it. God damnit. I crawl through the crowd chasing my passport until a nice woman finally picks it up and hands it to me. I give her a quick smile, thank her and run off to find my sister and the security lady. The security lady suggests we wait in the line to find out when the next flight to San Francisco is leaving. I look up at the status row on the TV screen. All I see is cancelled, cancelled, oh and once again, cancelled. There is no way there’s better news at the end of this never ending line. I keep my mouth shut and follow her, what other choice do I have? It’s probably our only way out of here.
Right as we walk towards the endless lines my phone begins to ring. “Daddy” appears on the screen. He’s still awake!!
“DADDY” I shout into the phone, “There’s been a bomb threat!”
“I know, I just watched the news. Is your flight leaving?” he asks while I look up at the screen again.
“No, nothing’s leaving.” I look at my sister. She’s looking around confused. I step away from the line. “Daddy, you need to get us out of here.” I say as tears start rolling down my face. This catches me by surprise. My sister is the one who always breaks down crying. I normally have very good control over my emotions. Why is this happening now?
There’s a pause on the other side of the line. “Okay, I have a friend who lives in London. I’ll give him a call, I’m sure he’ll come pick you up. Would you be okay staying with him?” I nod even though he can’t see me.
“Hello? Moni?” I hear my dad say.
“Yeah,” I croak, trying to hide from him that I’m crying. He promises to call me right back. I wipe my tears and take a couple of deep breaths before finding my sister and the security lady in the line, which of course isn’t hard because the line has barely moved.
I tell them that my dad’s calling some family friends and that he’s going to call me right back.
After what seems like forever, my phone finally rings again.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey. How are you guys holding up?” my dad asks.
“We’re fine, just confused and bored.” I try my best to sound relaxed
“Well, I wasn’t able to reach my friend,” my dad paused. Oh great, I thought, There is no way I can handle staying in the airport for much longer. Thankfully he continued “I called your aunt May and it just so happens that Zelpha, my cousin’s wife, is visiting her mother in London right now. I called her up and she said she could pick you guys up.”
“Really? That’s great!” I exclaim. Every emotion in the world starts pouring in. I feel happiness and relief yet I’m crying and breaking down. It’s quite overwhelming and this time I don’t try to hide it. My sister sees me and starts running over.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing, Daddy’s friend is coming to pick us up soon.” I smile. She looks very confused.
“That’s good news, right?” I nod which just adds to her confusion, “Why are you crying then?”
“Because she’s a teenager,” the security lady says as she gives me a big hug. We follow her to a little seating area to wait for Zelpha. My sister and I sit down for the first time in a while. We watch the scene around us and try to picture what Zelpha looks like. I predict she looks has brown hair, brown eyes and tan skin. My sister, on the other hand, is a little bit more creative.
After the “guess what Zelpha looks like” game we start playing 20 questions and I spy. During our 200th round of I spy, a man and woman walk into the seating area and head directly towards us.
“Are you the Haoui girls?” the woman asks.
“Yeah” I respond. The woman looks exactly like one of our aunts, brown hair, brown eyes and tan skin. I win.
“I’m Zelpha, and this is my friend David. Your dad called us. We’re here to pick you up,” Zelpha says. My sister and I introduce ourselves and follow them out of the packed airport. My sister gives me a half shrug look which I know means they seem nice. I smile in agreement. We get to the underground through a crammed tunnel and board one of the trains. We tell Zelpha and David about our morning adventure and we learn a little bit about them too. We learn that Zelpha can’t go back to Lebanon because of the war so she’s stranded in London for the time being. We also learn that David was born and raised in London, goes to tea parties on a regular basis (and I thought that was just a stereotype) and used to be Posh Spice’s personal stylist. I keep trying to steal his cell phone to get Posh’s number, but he won’t let me. He keeps repeating in his flamboyant English accent, “It’s top secret information you can’t have.” It’s about a thirty minute train ride to Zelpha’s mom’s house but it flies by very quickly.
Zelpha’s mom opens the door to greet us and then leads us into the living room where the dining table is completely covered with the most amazing Lebanese food. We wash our hands and sit down to eat. After an hour lunch David takes us on a walk into town to buy toiletries and other necessary things. This is the first time I experience how expensive London really is. We buy toothpaste, toothbrushes and shampoo for twenty-five dollars. “This is outrageous” I whisper to David as I take the bag from the cashier.
“Welcome to London” he replies, “Would you girls like to go on a walk through the Kensington Gardens? That’s what London is really all about.”
My sister and I nod and follow him out the store towards the Gardens. Right as I’m about to cross the street, David pulls me back onto the curb as a car comes zooming by on the wrong side of the road. “Watch out young lady, let’s try not to make this day any more eventful than it already has been,” he says. I nod and watch my surroundings very carefully. After about ten minutes we finally get to the Gardens. They’re absolutely amazing. Fountains, statues and the most colorful and distinct flowers stretch out as far as I can see. We walk around the Gardens for a couple of hours and then head back home again.
When we enter the apartment, Zelpha’s mom is watching the news. Every channel is talking about the bomb threat but they all have different stories. One news station says that a man walked into the airport and explosive liquids were found in his carry-on. Another news station says police pulled over a car filled with terrorists on the way to the airport. A third news station says police have known about the operation for a while and are arresting the suspects from their houses today. Each channel is interviewing different police officers, each one agreeing with the channel’s story. I look around the room and everyone looks just as confused as me. Zelpha’s mom changes the channel to a fourth news station, with its own version of the story. We all look at each other and burst out laughing. “Looks like you’re going to be staying here a while,” David says laughing, “Let me find you a hotel room.”
He calls around trying to find us a hotel room. With each phone call he changes our relationship to him. To the first hotel, we’re his sisters, to the next we’re his nieces, and then we’re his cousins. After about 20 minutes of calling around he turns up empty. The hotels are either completely booked, way too expensive or don’t allow children under the age of sixteen to stay there without their parents. Zelpha’s mom suggests we check out the hotels around the corner to see if they have any vacancies. The first hotel won’t let us stay because we’re under sixteen, even after we explain our situation. “What happens if we don’t find a hotel?” my sister asks.
“I guess we’ll just sleep on the floor.” I tell her, “It won’t be that bad.”
“Don’t worry girls,” David reassures us “we’ll find something.” And he’s right. The next hotel we go to has a very nice lady behind the counter. At first she gives us the whole under-age spiel, but then when we tell her we’re stranded in London because of the bomb threat she changes her mind. She tells us that normally she wouldn’t be allowed to do this but this is an exception. We thank her and tell her we’ll see her later and go back to Zelpha’s to have dinner.
After dinner, we play a couple rounds of the most confusing, but still very fun, card game until we can’t keep our eyes open any longer. We say good night to Zelpha and her mom, and David walks us back to our hotel. “Good night ladies,” he says as we walk up the stair to our room. “Good night,” we respond in unison and open the door to our room. I head straight to the bed and plop down on it. “Fun day, huh?” my sister asks as she turns off the lights. I’m way too tired to let out anything more than a grunt. Before I fall asleep I play out everything that happened that day. It’s unbelievable that it’s still the same day. I couldn’t ask for better people to take care of us while we’re here. I’m not even worrying about getting home anymore. All I can think about are the places David’s taking us to tomorrow. I’m so excited.
After three packed days of sight seeing and tourist activities, my dad comes to London to take us home. We say our good byes to our new family members. People we’ve only known for a couple days. “Keep in touch,” David says as he closes the door behind us.
The airport isn’t as crowded as it was the first day we were here. There are security people lined up along the door to enter the airport. “They’re only allowing people in one hour prior to their boarding times,” the old man next to us explains to us.
“That’s ridiculous,” my dad says, “They can’t tell us to come to the airport three hours before boarding and only let us into the airport one hour before. I’m not waiting out here in the cold for two hours.” My dad walks up to the security people. He tells them a little white lie about how we’re on the waiting list for an earlier flight and the security people let us into the airport. At the check in desk we have to check in all our belongings except for our passports and our wallets, no books or magazines allowed on the plane.
A couple hours into the flight I start to get really bored. There’s nothing for me to do. I read my passport a hundred times before I’m finally tired enough to sleep. I can’t wait to get home. I’m excited to talk to my friends and tell them what happened to me. When we first arrived in London and saw the whole mess, I would have never thought good would come out of it. I’m so grateful that I got to meet some totally awesome people and that I got to see more of London than just the airport. It was definitely quite the adventure.