한 해를 보내며 모두에게 감사하며 그들에게 ‘Good Luck’를 보낸다.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Good Luck!
한 해를 보내며 모두에게 감사하며 그들에게 ‘Good Luck’를 보낸다.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Good luck
“Should I go? Do I really have to? Maybe it’s better if I do.”
After graduating from college, I used to meet up often with three close friends. Two of them had already gotten married, and the last one was busy with someone she planned to marry. While their lives moved forward, filled with joyful sounds and plans, I felt stuck—like I was standing alone in an elevator, unsure which button to press or which floor to go to.
If someone had told me not to go, maybe I wouldn’t have boarded that plane to New York.
On a bright late-summer day, just after the last of my close friends got married, I put on a white blouse and a blue denim skirt and got on a plane.
I had cried the whole way to the airport, holding my mother’s hand tightly. Even after boarding, my tears didn’t stop.
I often got car sick, so I worried I might get even more sick on my first-ever plane ride.
But then, the fear of having to speak English stopped my tears. I was flying Northwest Airlines, and I didn’t know how to ask for motion sickness medicine in English. I opened my Korean-English dictionary and found the words “feel vomit.” I said it to the flight attendant, but she didn’t understand. Finally, I showed her the phrase directly from the dictionary, and she gave me a pill.
I needed water to take the medicine, so I asked, “Water?”—but she didn’t understand that either. I tried saying, “Orange juice,” but still had no luck. Too embarrassed to point at the dictionary again, I just put the pill in my mouth without water and hoped for the best. I thought I could just sleep and wake up when we landed. But without water, the pill started numbing my tongue and throat. My mouth felt frozen, and my throat was tingling in a strange way. It was terrifying.
I wanted to call the flight attendant again, but I couldn’t explain what was happening in English.
Feeling helpless and weak, I just closed my eyes and tried to survive it. Then, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. A flight attendant was softly waking me up. She motioned for me to follow her—and surprisingly, she brought me to first class. There, I didn’t have to speak much English. She gave me slippers, an eye mask, and drinks, and told me to rest. I slowly started to feel better, and the numbness in my mouth faded.
When we landed in Seattle, I tried to get up and leave, but she asked me to wait.
She guided me through immigration and made sure my luggage was transferred to the flight to New York. Then, before I boarded my next flight, she sat me down, held both my hands, and began to pray. I didn’t understand her English prayer, but I recognized the word “Amen”—so I softly said “Amen” too.
Now, at the end of the year, I want to thank them all—and send my own heartfelt “Good luck” to each and every one of them.