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The Final Departure

The final days before my departure can best be described as being a bit like watching my own funeral. My closest friends gathered to wish me farewell, sharing kind words and warm smiles, all carrying a very noticeable weight of sadness. While it warmed my heart to know that I have people in my life who care enough to be saddened by my departure, it also made leaving much harder than I could have anticipated. Nevertheless, I made it through. After choking through a few tearful goodbyes (and one last much needed drink at Craft and Commerce), Zac dropped me at Terminal 1 of the San Diego Airport. My adventure had officially begun.

I made my way through a surprisingly empty corridor, and placed my bag on the scale at the ticket counter. 25.5 pounds, not too bad. After reviewing my ticket, the ticket agent explained that I was in the wrong terminal, and that I would need to catch a shuttle bus to the commuter terminal to catch my flight to Los Angeles. Ignoring the fact that no where on any of my ticketing information was there any hint of the fact that I needed to go to the commuter terminal (it instead plainly listed “United” as the only indicator of where I should go), I followed her instructions and hopped on the next shuttle. Upon arriving at the commuter terminal I was again pleasantly surprised to find an empty terminal, and was promptly greeted by a few very friendly and almost overly-helpful gate agents. With my bag officially checked, I breezed through security and boarded my flight to L.A.

The flight to Los Angeles was short and bumpy. I have never flown on such a small aircraft before, and had to duck quite a bit to avoid hitting my head on the ceiling. Despite the tiny stature of the plane, we landed safely about 30 minutes after take off (this sure beat the hell out of battling L.A. traffic). After another brief shuttle ride, and second short security line I now find myself at Terminal 2 of the Los Angeles International Airport, listening to “In the Air Tonight” playing quietly over the speakers of a wonderfully average diner. Just over 2 hours til my 9 hour flight to Raratonga, and I’m trying desperately to fill the time to avoid allowing myself to think too much…

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