This all began on a very long plane ride, from the East Coast to the West, when I was glued in my seat waiting to finally settle my feet on California’s land. I let the seatbelt surround my abdomen. The plane’s tiers started rolling. I laid back on my uncomfortable seat feeling the pressure in my ears as the plane made its way to the air. All of a sudden, I started having an eccentric feeling. I felt the day was September 11th and that I was flying from Boston to New York City. My heart started pounding as I recalled the TV images and voices of the people calling 911 on the plane as they were heading to their unforeseen destination. The plane started flying higher letting my heart beats increase like an arrow heading to its bull’s eye. On planes, I frequently thought of Iraq and all the beautiful memories I shared with my family and friends, but on that day my mind never gave up the idea of being in the shoes of those whose lives were about to be terminated on a plane.Although the plane was flying higher, my mind couldn’t but recall hearing the sound of the flight attendant talking to the dispatcher. “Oh my God! We are flying low. Oh my God! Very low very low. Oh my God Oh my Go…” silence followed. When I heard the real voice of this flight attendant vanishing before finishing the word “God” on a History Channel documentary, I kept thinking what if I were there? I never stopped thinking about that attack which changed the entire world since it happened.
To avoid this baroque feeling that followed me like a beastly predator, I took out “Snow”, the book I brought with me to read on the plane. Fortunately, the beautiful writing style and the engaging narrative of Orhan Pamuk made me forget about that bizarre feeling I had. I kept reading constantly until I let my eyes beg me to sleep where my mind went back home with a going-back-home dream.
When I left Washington DC, the weather was burning and the humidity felt like a soldier covering his detainee’s head with a plastic bag preventing him from breathing cool air. Allergies was my companion. I had to go to a CVS pharmacy earlier to get a day medicine. However and for my good luck, the weather in Orange County where we flew to was great. A little cloudy, but very nice with temperature not higher than 70 degrees during the day which stopped my nose from sneezing without taking a pill of the allergy medicine I have bought earlier.
Orange County was such a magnificent place to visit. It was a very good introduction for me to see the West Coast. Two of my friends and I flew from Washington DC to attend a wedding of one of our best friends whose tremendous support of me was a milestone in my way of the Writing field.
After I had lunch with my friend the groom at Saint Regis hotel, I returned to my hotel in Dana Point. I changed and quickly ran to the Doheney Beach by myself. The sight of the ocean in front of me with people lined up along the shore like a necklace surrounding the neck of a beautiful lady took my breath away. I sat on top of a huge rock and let my heart and soul fly with the sea gulls above the huge tent-like waves. The cool breeze chilled my entire spine and reminded me with a similar sight I and most Iraqis used to enjoy before the war. Habbaniya resort was one of Iraq’s major resorts with its artificial lake, five-star hotel, along-shore-villas, night clubs, swimming pools, and amusement park. Recalling all these sights, I felt a shiver followed by a sigh and a hope that one day things there return to be as good as they used to be.
I left the rock and started walking towards the ocean. As I went closer, I felt bittersweet happiness. I was happy with enjoying the sight peacefully, but at the same time I felt the survivor guilt that always reminds me with my family and friends and their daily ordeal. My feet were walking me, letting the ocean’s water cuddle them as they dig their way on the wet sand, stepping on empty oyster shells. I felt I could walk there forever, maybe until the last breath in my lungs which have just abandoned tobacco. However, I didn’t think of committing suicide or anything crazy. Our existence is an eye blink. Why, then, should a man chase down his life? I stared at the wave coming towards me as fast as a mother running towards her son after twenty years of separation. Even though it was huge, I felt it was peaceful. The sound of the gulls and the waves hugging each other towards the shore was the most halcyon sight I’ve ever loved.
At the wedding, big shot journalists, writers, publishers, and book agents were in the top of the list of the invited people. Talking with them about my future plans was something that I’ve never expected to happen one day. I don’t even recall I had such dreams. Though the war had its cost on us, it still left one road open for lucky people like me. I talked about my future writing plans and the Ph.D. degree that I want to pursue after the Master’s. I was encouraged a lot when big writers offered to help me read and perhaps publish some of the future bulky writing projects.
After the JFK Airport breaking news was broadcasted on all America’s new TV networks, I realized why I had a weird feeling at the plane on my way to California. I am not a spiritual person, but when I feel uncomfortable I know that there must be something wrong. I tracked the news as they came out on TV with the live broadcast of news conferences and all the details about the planners of the foiled terrorist attack which had it happen, it might have killed thousands of innocent people, not only Americans but many other people from different nationalities that happened to be there.
I wasn’t surprised when I heard the news, but I was left with a feeling of disgust and anxiety even though I know that we-Muslim Arab young men- are being already monitored by America’s FBI and CIA. I expected that we would be annoyed at the airport by security. I wouldn’t mind, to be honest. I don’t blame them for doing so, but that does not mean it would not be annoying and sometimes degrading. But for the better safety of everyone traveling, I believe they have the right to do their best to secure the airports from any suspicious activity. In all cases, I decided not to spoil my beautiful vacation with overreacting. I had nothing to be afraid of.
Going back to DC, I flew from Santa Ana. At the airport, intensive security was very obvious. For my good luck, nothing happened to me. I checked in electronically, got my boarding pass and headed towards the security zone where I was searched like all people around me. As I boarded on the plane, I had a feeling of safety despite America’s the precarious feeling then. I didn’t feel the time fly by as I spent most of it reading on the plane getting half way through the almost five-hundred-page book I was reading.
After spending the night in DC with my friends, I left the city in the morning heading back to Philadelphia. I took the China Town bus, $15 better than $90 for the boring, slow and bad service of Amtrak. The way to Philly was amazing, passing by all the beautiful natural areas of Baltimore and Delaware. As we reached the outskirts of Philly, the shiny blue skyscrapers of the city craned my eyes. I had a great feeling of going back “home”. I don’t know if I could call Philly “home” yet, but I definitely had an amazing feeling of relief. No place replaces Baghdad, of course, but inside me, the City of Brotherly Love became an important part of my new life. It helped me survive, defeat fear, and go on in living joyfully in America’s ancient and most famous historical spot where democracy, freedom, and new life were born.
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