I will not live in fear.
Photo: Facebook/One World Trade CenterIn times of terror, we know it has been a great concern for worldwide travelers this summer regarding the safety of your journeys. This piece is exclusively written for Jetset Times by a fellow traveler who wishes to remain anonymous. We encourage your voices to be heard, both in fear and in tenacity. Love, Wendy, CEO/Founder of Jetset Times.
On Saturday morning, I was sleeping soundly, excited for my transatlantic flight. At 7:45 am, I was awoken by the sound of my mother creaking open my door and gently tiptoeing into my room. “There’s something I have to show you,” she said. Groggily, I opened my eyes and took the phone from her, alarmed by her tone. There on the screen was one of my worst fears, materialized into large, looming, millimeter sized letters: there had been a terror threat on the airport I was flying from in less than nine hours. By stepping into that airport, I was voluntarily putting my life on the line.
Now, I am no stranger to travel anxiety and terror fears – unfortunately, it has become an established part of my generation. The students I teach, barely six years younger than I am, do not remember a world before 9/11. They do not remember stepping onto an airplane without worrying that someone would try to destroy them. But I do. I remember skipping to the airport in my neatly tied Keds, backpack and bunny in tow. I remember giggling when my mom clutched the seat during takeoff, thinking, just a little smugly, that adults were silly. I also remember the nights after 9/11 when I woke up screaming, covered in cold sweats. I remember begging my parents not to go to work in the morning, because as soon as they stepped outside of our house, their fates were uncertain. I remember teaching myself to learn to live like this.
At 7:45 on Saturday morning, I had a choice to make. Either, I was going to let that threat stop my life or I was going to make the decision to overcome fear, to take control of my own life in the best way that I could. As I left my house and drove to the airport, a million thoughts reverberated through my brain: none of which were, “did I leave anything behind?” I was always nervous about traveling but this time, it was different.
The pandemonium began as soon as we stopped outside of the airport. Cars were rushed by and I said a hurried goodbye to my dad, hands trembling as I tried to grab a hold of my luggage. My mom tried to walk me in but she was stopped at the door – only passengers were allowed inside. The car had already been pushed to the next terminal and my dad was circling back to pick up my mom. She pushed me forward and I watched as the double doors closed and the crowds swallowed her, begged my legs to move forward towards security as I scanned the crowd around me.
What does it feel like to travel during times of terror?
First of all, it feels stupidly, ridiculously, disgustingly unfair. Unfair that I had to choose between feeling safe and seeing loved ones. Unfair that I had to put my parents in danger simply by association. Unfair that my teeth were chattering and tears were welling up in my eyes as I saw the armed police officer standing tersely at each corner. As I begged the security line to move faster, I thought about the ridiculousness of it all – that I had to fear a line, that I lived in a society where going to the airport meant putting myself in danger. It was all so avoidable – so infuriatingly, dehumanizing. So unfair.
Behind the anger, it feels like the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, like the more cautious, wiser version of yourself is behind you, clucking their tongue and telling you to go back home. It whispers “things are different now” while you keep willing your legs forward.
It feels like open ears and judgmental, narrowed eyes. I scanned each backpack and suitcase the way I expected the security machines did. I looked into the eyes of my fellow passengers. Did they seem malicious? Angry? Determined?
It feels like a developing migraine from the stress of it all.
As the plane landed at my destination, my first feeling was gratitude. I felt a slight sense of accomplishment because I knew, deep down, that a year ago, two years ago, I never would have gone through with my flight. Unfortunately, now, I have no choice. Until someone takes action, until this useless killing stops and the world finds some semblance of humanity again, we will all be forced to accept the consequences of a society we don’t want to live in.
I will not live in fear. I will not stop doing the things I love because someone says I should. Until our call for action is heard though, we will all be forced to learn to live like this.
