Personal Narrative: My Trip To The Airport

My alarm went off at six on an early June morning. My body is physically not used to waking up this early, but the desire to go back to sleep was quickly outweighed by the mixture of excitement and fear of leaving. I was going to a third-world country on the opposite side of the world. After months of preparation through fundraising, learning about the culture and environment, getting shots, and praying for this trip, the day was finally here. I placed the remaining items in my suitcase that I would be living out of for the next three weeks and stepped into the car to head to the airport with my parents. On the way to the airport, I tried to wrap my head around the fact that I was going on my first international mission trip, but I failed to. I had never done anything in my life that had scared me so much before. To begin with, I was greeted by the group of eighteen people I would be accompanying with on this

The flight to Philadelphia was by far the easiest flight we were about to encounter. It was a mere two-hour flight compared to the other three flights we had. In Philadelphia, we had a day layover, so we explored the city and went site-seeing in that time. Most of us were just restless to continue our travels. We did, the next day on our flight to London. The plane was the biggest plane I had ever been on before, it was two-stories high and able to fit a ton of people. It even had televisions on the back of the seats to watch movies on. I considered this a major luxury until I realized I had nowhere to move my feet on an eight-hour long flight. There are approximately four things you can do on a plane: sleep, watch a movie, talk with whomever is next to you, and read. I quickly found that the more you travel, the more you yearn to do something other than those things. As boring and as long as this flight was, I was still excited. I was getting closer to the place I had been dreaming of for