We Are Young: Day 1

I really intended to write more frequently for this blog. Honestly. But this past week has been such a whirlwind that I finally have two seconds to catch my breath after six days. I think this is the first time that I’ve actually been excited about classes starting, if only for the fact that it gave me a day to just sit for a bit and have structure. And not feel lame for sitting at my computer while everyone else is having fun, because for once everyone else is doing exactly what I am.

I guess the best place to start is from the beginning, which involves lots of flying and the First Travel Disaster of this semester.

I arrived at the airport a little more than two hours early, said a hasty goodbye to my mother so I wouldn’t cry, and jumped into a long line for check-in for Air Canada. Right away I should have taken this as an omen for things to come: this line was not moving. All around us, other airlines cleared their lines quickly, but Air Canada’s was stuck. Fortunately (or not), the employees assured us that all flights were delayed anyway, so no one would miss their flight. Wonderful.

After finally checking in and getting my bag checked, I passed through security where I immediately heard my name called over the loudspeaker. My heart was instantly at my throat. Oh no, they’ve found something accidentally terrorist-y in my bag and now they’re going to take me to Guantanamo Bay and I’ll never see my family again. I think rationally, obviously.

Instead, they told me that since all Air Canada flights were delayed that day, they were bumping everyone with a connecting flight up so they wouldn’t miss their connection. Not wanting to get stuck in Toronto, I naturally agreed. Here’s where it gets interesting, and mark this because it will be important later: when I said yes, I swear I heard the person on the other end of the woman’s walkie-talkie say “We have the bag, they’re pulling it off the carousel”.

Other than the flight being riddled with turbulence, we made it to Toronto without any issues. At customs, the man who checked my passport remarked that the picture looked nothing like me, and I must have been about twelve when it was taken. I was sixteen, for the record. Thanks a lot.

The flight to Dublin was equally unimpressive, apart from the fact that I got no sleep at all, in between more turbulence and a woman who thought the in-flight movie she’d chosen was so hilarious she’d share her laugh with the entire cabin.

I got off the plane at about nine a.m. Dublin time. Getting through customs was a nightmare, as they separated us between EU and non-EU passports and apparently Canadians are suspicious folk who require twice as long to process. By the time all of my documents were checked and my passport was stamped, I was ready to get out of there and go on to Dublin City University and begin my exciting new life overseas. Except…

…except that when I got to the baggage carousel, my bag was nowhere to be found. I circled the belt over and over, searching frantically for my black suitcase with the old yellow ACIS tag and the strip of rainbow ribbon. Near tears, I found an airport worker, who directed me to my worst nightmare: the lost luggage queue.

My bag is not here. My life is in that bag. This is the worst thing that could possibly happen. How could this possibly happen?! Close to hyperventilating, I gave my information to the man at the desk, who informed me that my bag was IN TORONTO. Not only that, but that there is only one flight from Toronto to Dublin per day, and my bag would not arrive UNTIL THE NEXT DAY. So much for them pulling my bag off the carousel.

With shaking hands and a lump in my throat, I knew I had no choice but to make do and move on.  Eventually I made it to DCU (with two other girls who lost their bags on the same flight) and settled in as best I could in my new apartment. The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of orientation, awful food at lunch, and campus tours. After all scheduled activity, I realized I was in dire need of a few things, the primary one being food and the other being shampoo. So off to Tesco I went,  a 1.7 km hike through the suburbs of Dublin. Now, you might be thinking  “Kelsey, that’s a really stupid idea to go off by yourself in a foreign country on your first day”. And I would agree with you. Fortunately, the people of Dublin are incredibly nice and give very helpful directions, and I came back to the apartment an hour later with food, shampoo, and without stab wounds.

I proceeded to make myself an impromptu dinner, and just when I was about to collapse from exhaustion, my roommate came back in. “Hey, we’re all going out tonight. Do you want to come?”

Are you crazy? I haven’t slept for over 24 hours, 90% of my clothes are in Canada, and I am badly in need of a shower. Do I want to go out?!

I went.

I ended up at Temple Bar, a district in Dublin full of bars. It’s notoriously touristy, but it did the job of sufficiently entertaining us for the night. The buses here run until 11:30, so we wanted to make sure to avoid taking a taxi and keep track of the time. We left the district at about 11, figuring we had plenty of time to make it to the bus stop. As we walked, the last bus of the night drove by us, about two blocks too soon. Everyone gasped and started running, and I – as a seasoned runner – took off at full sprint after it. We were all amazed that we made it to the bus before it left, and we sat panting and grinning at our cleverness – until we realized that the last bus of the night goes on standby for 15 minutes. Now feeling rather foolish instead, we made friends with a middle aged couple sitting near us. At one point, they asked “Do you know the band Fun.?” We said of course, and he responded with “I love that song a there’s – We are Young?” He then began to sing, and we all joined in. I have a feeling it will be the iconic memory of that night.

 I arrived home around midnight, exhausted but still hopeful for all of the possibilities of this semester abroad. Stay tuned to find out if I’m right.