Rollercoasters

     Rollercoasters, am I right? Now stay with me for a second. Rollercoasters. I love them, and I know many others do. In my 22 (almost 23) years on this earth, I have ridden many rollercoasters, and become familiar with the phases of riding a rollercoaster. (Remember that this next bit is coming from a guy who has ridden many rollercoasters and keeps going back for more.)

     There’s the first stage, when you are approaching the line/ are in the line. The fear and apprehension doesn’t exist at that point is well hidden at that point. You are joking around with your friends and companions. Talking about anything; plans for the day, gossip involving your friend base, plotting the best route through the park to hit all the rides, discussing where you want to eat, even talking excitedly about the ride, since at that point it’s still abstract. You know it’s there, you know you are going on it, you can see it, you can even hear the screams from the current riders, but it’s not real to you yet.

     The next stage is on the platform. It’s almost your turn. You can see the front of the line. You’ve already picked which part of the car you want to be in (the very back is the best, but sometimes the line is too long, so you take the second to last car or even the front, if you like the wind). The fact that you are going on the ride is a little more concrete here. The option to not go is still there though. Something could happen. The ride could break, one of your companions could chicken out and you can agree to sit it out with them so they aren’t alone waiting on your group, you can change your mind yourself, you could trip and break your leg and thus have an excuse to not go, you could be struck by lightning, the sky could open up and the voice of God could descend upon you and tell you not to get on, etc. You want to go on the ride, you love rides, but all those things could still happen, and you tell yourself that the nervousness you feel is BECAUSE these things could happen, and that their occurrence wouldn’t be the answer to your silly nervousness.

     Then you are actually in the car. You are fastening your seat buckle, the bar is descending, and the ride attendants are making their rounds. You are 99.9 % DEFINITELY going on this ride. You are locked in. But that can still change. The ride could not start, you can still raise your hand and get off, the weather could still change in an instant, that lightning bolt is still waiting in the wings to strike. But you don’t. Those things don’t happen. And the ride lurches forward and leaves the station.

     OH CRAP! THE PANIC HITS! THIS IS HAPPENING! YOU AREN’T READY! YOU AREN’T PREPPED ENOUGH! WHY DID YOU AGREE TO THIS! YOU HAVE NO IDEA IF YOU WILL SURVIVE OR NOT! THE CAR COULD JUMP THE TRACKS, BREAK DOWN, YOU COULD GET STUCK, THE BAR AND SEATBELT COULD MALFUNCTION AND YOU COULD BE THROWN OUT! WHY IN THE WORLD DID YOU AGREE TO GO ON THIS DEATHTRAP?!?!

     That is the stage I’m at. The car lurched forward for me last night when I opened the email from Yanick (the logistics master for YASC) and saw my enclosed ticket for the 29^th of September to South Africa. I saw that, and it hit me. I’M DOING THIS! It is actually happen. I’ve been close to this before; if you look at the previous post you will know that I was supposed to be on the plane on the 17^th originally. I got all the way up to the platform and had one leg in the car last time, but one of those little things happened and I didn’t make that plane. Due to a misunderstanding with the South African Consulate my original Visa was denied, and so while I should have had my Visa by the 9^th or even the 11^th, I actually didn’t receive it until this past weekend, well after I should have been on the plane. (Interesting fact, it actually wasn’t until the 17^th, the day of my original flight, that I found out what was taking my visa so long and what had gone wrong. When my ticket was cancelled on the 14^th I was still in the dark and had no idea when it would be coming it. I was still hoping to have it by the 16^th). But like I have said, being on the platform and even being in the car, is very different from actually feeling it moving.

     At this point, it is set. There is nothing (other than packing) standing between me and South Africa. And that is TERRIFYING! It’s terrifying in a way that I expected, that I knew was going to happen, I’ve been working towards this moment for some time, I knew it was coming, I’ve known that I’ll be doing this, I did my time in line, I’ve watched myself inch towards the car steadily and witnessed those that got on before me, but now it is REAL in a way that it never has been before. I’m going to be gone for a YEAR! I’ll be 6-7 time zones ahead of everyone I’ve ever known and loved for a YEAR! I won’t be in the same town as my parents and brother, something that hasn’t happened since ever. The longest I’ve been away from my family was the summer I worked at camp, and even then we were still in the same state and I could call them regularly and even take a trip back to see them. Even worse, I’ll be 8,000 miles away from my girlfriend of 5 years. I won’t be able to see her every day, something that hasn’t happened for a sustained period since the summer I worked at the camp and the following semester of college when she attended the other state university. Even then though, there was still the ability to communicate regularly and reliability and the option to visit (which was taken advantage of multiple times). I haven’t lived outside of my state, and only outside of my city for a period of 3 months, for my entire life. And now, starting TUESDAY, I’ll be gone for a YEAR. All this hit in an instant. Fear, doubt, excitement, everything set in.

     The best part is, it’s not over yet. For me, the scariest part of the roller-coaster isn’t the initial lurch of movement. For me the worst, and best, part of the ride is the clickety-clackity of the ascent up the first hill. Knowing that everything is out of your hands, but having all the time in the world to think of everything that could possible go wrong, everything you wished you had done or could do, and being afraid that you’ll never do them, watching the top of the hill approach at a steady pace. For me, this part will be the actual plane ride.

     My comfort in all of this is that the cycle isn’t over yet. Every ride I have ever been on always has those initial stages. But they don’t end there, because I always crest that hill. The car always takes that plunge and I always enjoy the rush that follows. Sure, I’m terrified right now. I can focus on how difficult it will be, all the obstacles I’ll face. How difficult it will be not seeing my girlfriend’s beautiful face every day and how much I will miss her. How I’ll miss important life events with my friends and family. I know that I’ll be lonely and feel isolated in a place that I have never been and whose culture is very different from mine. I can take all of this and let it overwhelm me, I can get caught up on everything leading up to the crest of the first hill, or I can know that the ride will be amazing and enjoy it. Sure it will be difficult, but it will also be a once in a lifetime opportunity to grow and experience things that I may have never been able to otherwise. At the end, when I stumble off the ride (plane) a year from now, the question will be, “did I throw my hands up in the air, scream my lungs out, and love it?” and I firmly believe that the answer will be yes. And that is why I willingly get on that ride.