Home for Christmas: THE STORY.

[Bear with me friends. This story is long, but it's awesome. If you only want to read a little tiny bit, skip to the end when I'm talking about my seat partners on my 45 minute flight from Grand Rapids to Detroit. Hysterical. And, a little unbelievable too. But, SO funny.]

Home for Christmas: the STORY!

It all started back in October. You see, I had never planned on coming home for Christmas. But then, I was watching a movie—I have no idea which movie—and a scene of an American family Christmas came on. My rarely revealed emotional side blindsided me and WHOA. I decided I wanted to go home for Christmas. This is when I began weighing my options. Could I pull of the surprise of traveling half way around the world without my parents ever knowing?

I didn’t actually book a ticket until after Thanksgiving. And I waited an entire week before I even told anyone in Baku about my plans to travel home. Outside of Baku, I told only 3 people (total!): my dear friend and college roommate, Rebecca, who lives in Montevideo, Uruguay (and swore her to secrecy), and fantastic family friends who live just 5 minutes away from my Spring Lake home, Glen and Beth Miller. I told the Millers just 4 days before I was to arrive, because I needed someone to pick me up at the airport. They were happy to do it, and BEYOND EXCITED to join my insane little covert Christmas miracle.

Then, Heathrow Airport in London CLOSED an entire runway and canceled 90% of its flights TWO DAYS before I was supposed to fly. And where was my layover? Oh, Heathrow. To say I was freaking out would be a gross understatement. The day before I left, both runways were open again and the airport claimed to be back in business and running at at 65%, but dealing with a HUGE backlog of displaced travelers. And I was about to become one of them. Awesome.

The morning of the 23^rd, my day to fly, I taught my Minister. As soon as I walked into his office, he put his hands out and said, “Julia! Heathrow is working again!” He was as excited as I was for my surprise, as were all of my other students! I taught the rest of my classes and left at 4pm for the airport with well-wishes from my students and co-workers and unshakable excitement and the mother of all butterflies aflight in my gut. Operation home for Christmas was in full forward motion!

I boarded my flight to London with a few new friends: a lovely Azeri woman named Nelly, who helped me understand the loudspeaker, and a couple from Sheki, Azerbaijan, who were American M-s. The flight was uneventful, and the airplane food was AMAZING! I had a whole row to myself, so I sprawled and slept for a few hours. I sat up as we descended into London, looking out at the snow that had haulted traffic from the world’s busiest airport for several days, thinking, ‘Seriously? This wouldn’t even be a snow day in Michigan.” Given, I was a few days after the major storm. I got off the plane for my 12 hour layover, headed out through immigration and customs, and found a tent of weary waylayed passengers to chill overnight with. Some had been there for 3 days! Upon the announcement of my tent-neighbors flight, he elatedly offered the foam mat he had spent 3 unshowered days sitting on/sleeping on/carrying around Heathrow. I joined in his excitement, but declined the well-loved floor mat, saying that maybe he should keep it as a souvenir.

My flight was one of two on the board NOT canceled! The next morning, I left on time for Detroit, praising G Almighty for clearing a path for me to make it home for Christmas! I watched on the monitor as the plane left the British Isles and headed over the ocean. HOME FREE, I thought to myself. I cannot believe I made it out of London! Just as I settled in, the pilot came on the loudspeaker: “Ladies and Gentlemen, if we have any doctors on board, or any medical personnel at all, please come to the door where you boarded.” I pr-yed that we were closer to America than London, and that if an emergency landing was required, we would at least be able to do it somewhere in North America! I was situated in the very back of the plane, and quickly realized my pryrs were better turned toward whoever was in medical trouble, as the flight attendants pulled medical supplies and a defibrillator out from the bin above my head. I still don’t know what happened, except this: Nobody died, and we stayed the course.

I had a really tight layover in Detroit—about 1 hour and 7 minutes—during which time I had to get off of a completely full flight from the very back, collect my luggage off the luggage carousel, re-enter America through Immigration (and they had a lot of questions for me because of the weird range of visas and stamps in my passport) and customs, re-check my luggage into my last flight, and find my new gate in a domestic terminal. I made it about 8 minutes before boarding, so I did what any home-bound Diet Coke loving ex-pat would do: I went to the closest stand, found a cold Diet Coke, brought it to the counter, and ignorantly asked if I could pay in dollars. “Sure you can, Sugar. This IS America.” YEAAAH! I’m in America!

I boarded my next flight, and was seated next to a science teacher from my High School (small world!), and a young woman who quickly became as excited for my surprise as I was. We landed uneventfully in Grand Rapids, and right on time despite leaving 20 minutes late from Detroit. I parted ways with my new friends and was met the Millers, who, if we were measuring excitement levels, might have just topped mine!

I had set up a skype date with my family for 4pm their time, 1am my time, that served two

purposes: 1—to help make it feel like the normal Christmas Eve that is was NOT, and 2—to ensure that all 6 of them were at

home for my surprise :) Sneaky, right? The Millers and I drove to their house, where, at the

appointed time, I holed up in their bathroom with the lights off (it was the middle of the night in

Baku, after all), turned up my screen brightness all the way, and lied my little pants off as I told them all about my Christmas

day plans.

Their view:

My view (can you tell I'm sitting on the floor in an American bathroom?):

After about 6 minutes, I clicked “offline” (which wasn’t weird because I lose my connection ALL the time when I skype them) and just left them hanging. I ran out of the bathroom, and the three of us piled back into the Millers car for the quick ride to my house.

Starting here I’m going to incorporate a bit from my family’s point of view, because it’s fantastic. So, Skype quits. Dad runs into the office to make sure the connection problem isn’t on their side, Mom goes into the kitchen to keep cutting vegetables (but really so that nobody will see her tears). About 5 minutes later, the doorbell rings. Now, nobody jumped up to get it because it had been ringing all day with neighbors bringing cards and cookies by. So, frustrated, my dad left his connection problem investigation, covered his technological frsterations with some faux-christmas-cheer for the merry, cookie-bearing neighbor, opened the door and saw…ME! The smile turned into a dropped jaw, his glowing Christmas complexion changed to match the snow. I stood on the porch waiting for him to open the door, but he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t move a muscle. So I let my self in.

Crying ensued. Screaming ensued. Hugging ensued. Thankfully, no coronaries ensued.

My own little Christmas miracle!

REACTIONS:

Dad: shock. then tears.

Mom: disbelief (she actually reached through the door and touched my forehead, like I was an illusion!). then tears.

Jack: TEARS (and a little bit of screaming). and then more tears.

Bobby: “I heard the doorbell and I though to myself, ‘That’s probably Jillann.’” no tears from him. [if you know my brother at all, this reaction should no surprise you in the least.]

Katie: SCREAMING like you’ve never heard before. then tears.

Holly: “WHAT are you doing here? What are you DOING here? What are YOU doing here?” then tears.

Me: all of the above.

WHOA. It worked. And, for the most part, it’s on video!

Christmas was FANTASTIC. What a gift to celebrate the birth of the Savior with the 6 people I love most in the world!

Please pay special attention to the freshly teary eyes in the picture below... :)

I was home for two weeks, during which time I: loved on my family, saw tons of friends, spend time with my Covenant Life family, drank 900 liters of Diet Coke and at least that much organic milk, missed Baku, saw some movies, spent time in Chicago, enjoyed central heating, slept in, drove, skyped with students, enjoyed hot showers, shopped, visited Katie’s new apartment, met my newest cousin, Habtamu, recently home from Ethiopia, and saw my extended family, and soaked up America.

The time FLEW by, and before I knew it, I was packing to head back to Azerbaijan.

Friends, the way BACK was as eventful, if not MORE so, than the way home. Here’s the short version:

About 18 hours before my flight was scheduled to leave, we stared getting DUMPED on by snow. In that 18 hours, about 16 inches of snow fell and there were white-out conditions and snow warnings! But, flights were flying from GRR and were, supposedly, on time…

So, we drove to airport in Grand Rapids, said goodbye, and I boarded my un-delayed flight. I had a VERY tight layover in Detroit: 1 hour, 1 minute.

Flight was supposed to leave from Grand Rapids at 6:14 and land in Detroit at 7:16.

Boarded flight at 6:00. Left for the runway. De-iced. Went to runway. Spent too much time waiting, so had to de-ice again. Back to runway. Again, too much time passed. Back to de-ice a third time. Then back to the runway. Then the pilot announced a 30 minute delay. So we sat. FINALLY, at 6:40, we took off.

Flight was CRAZY. Guy next to me was a mouth-breathing snorer who though my shoulder was a comfortable pillow, and who slept from the moment I sat down to the moment I left him, still asleep, to get off the plane in Detroit. Behind me, I had a mom and two little kids, eating very fragrant Indian food and playing drums on the tray table attached to my chair. Beside me on the other side I had a middle-aged guy reading a racy romance novel, moaning intermittently and occasionally whispering “yeeeees.”

Thank heavens this was only a 45 minute flight.

We touched down in Detroit at 7:16, the exact minute that my flight to London was supposed to take off. Of course, we took out leisurely time taxiing, and FINALLY pulled up to the gate. Again, I was in the VERY back of the plane, and had to wait for everyone to disembark before I finally got off. In the terminal, I started RUNNING for the international terminal, carrying 3 bags that collectively probably weighed 60-70 pounds. I saw an empty desk for my airline—Delta KLM—and stopped to ask the attendant to look up a gate for me. It turns out I was only three gates away! She called ahead and asked them to “hold for a runner” and I took off running. Out of breath, I got to the gate. “Are you Jill?” they asked, to which I replied “YES!” (though my mother would have corrected them—it’s JillANN.) The crew didn’t even ask for a single form of ID (comforting, right?), they just rushed me onto the plane. The plane was completely full, so when I (the VERY last person to board) got on with my two big carry-ons, they took one look at my duffel carry-on and told me I’d have to check it. Totally out of character and a little caught up in the emotion of the moment, I burst into tears and blubbered my way though an explaination—that I had stuff in my carry-on that I was bringing to friends in London who couldn’t get things like brownie mix and stuffing and painters tape and I could NOT check my bag through to Baku! A compassionate flight attendant told me she would find a place for it. I made my way back to 44b, painfully aware that I was “that girl.” You know, the teary, disheveled, out-of-breath mess. I took my seat next to Allie (new friend), engaged in small talk as we de-iced 3 times, and finally took off.

We landed an hour late in London, and I had to beeline directly to the bus station to re-schedule my bus ticket…I was going to see the Catons since I had a 13 hour layover! I met a Saudi-Arabian exchange student who helped me find the bus station (a LOVELY girl), then rebooked my ticket for a bus that was leaving in about 9 seconds, got on the bus, politely asked the person with the most convincing British accent if I could borrow their phone to make a local call, called the Catons, arrived at the Oxford bus station, met Steve, toured by car their cute little city, went to their house for lunch, saw the Moto shop I’d been hearing so much about, went back to Oxford, this time with Sarah, Elyse, and Kyla too, took a walking tour, ate pasty, re-boarded my bus, got back to Heathrow, got my boarding pass, got Starbucks, and boarded my flight for Baku, which left exactly on time. (I’m going to write an entire post about my England layover, so…to be continued!)

I had made a friend, Nelly (remember reading bout her like 9 million words ago?), on my initial flight from Baku to London, and she just happened to be on my return flight! It was good to see her again and hear about her break, and she offered me a ride home! Definitely better than a taxi!

Got home to my flat at 7:30am, went to bed, and didn’t wake up until 4:15pm. Which is why, 5 days later, I’m wide-awake at 2am writing this update.

And that was it!

(and, that was a LONG post. did anyone make it to the end?! )

What an AWESOME break!

A HUGE THANK YOU to Glen and Beth Miller (below)...YOU made it happen!

And here's my family. ALL SEVEN of us. on Christmas day!