Wait, Delta is Homeland Security now?

After telling my parents the news, I was free!  And, by free I mean I was free to lean into the packing, and making all the plans without trying to hide the train that had been in motion for almost a month.   It was a strange form of freedom because the minute I was liberated from what my parents would think, or say, I became a slave to every aspect of the move. It’s not an easy task making your life small, choosing between taking this or that.  We couldn’t ship everything on the front end of the move because we truly had no destination other than Dakar, Senegal. I almost felt homeless. 

In the end, we made it happen.  The month of January had finally concluded, and our time in Alabama was up.  It was bittersweet. When Senegal was just a plan, there were many things I didn’t consider I would feel when it was all said and done.   This little rental house we were leaving in Alabama was the only home our daughter had ever known. It was the place we brought her home after her birth.  It was the place I became to feel safe when my husband was away at work for so many months. And though I largely felt isolated in Alabama, I knew my parents were just a short drive away.   In spite of that, I knew the growth ahead of all of us was necessary.

The night before departure we stayed at the hotel at the airport.  We had spent the last two nights with my mother, and I was glad that we had decided early on to spend the last night at a hotel.  I didn’t want to leave any space for any farewell visitors like my parents, and potential airport theatrics; you know crying and such. The reality was that last night needed to be restful because we had 24 hours of travel ahead of us with a toddler.

We woke up the morning of take off as planned.  We had plenty of time, and check in was just an elevator ride away. Well, a couple of elevator rides, as traveling goes; we were heavy.  We each had two bags and a carry on plus a car seat in tow. However, my husband made it happen, and we were in line well before the Delta counter even opened up.  I kept checking my watch; I was antsy wanting to get through check-in and security so that I could relax and focus on whatever would come up with the baby. 

By the time Delta’s lazy little worker bees showed up to the open the desk I was irritated. And, since I created that energy, it almost had no choice but to turn out all bad.  The first issue was the bags. It cost $400 for the extra bags, which we expected. But then to find out we would need to recheck our bags at our second connection?! There was no way in the world we were going to pay $800 to get all the luggage to Dakar.  Somebody needed to do something; that somebody was my hubby. 

But before we could settle getting the bags checked all the way through to our final destination.  There was a problem. A big problem. Delta noticed that our tickets were one-way and while that was fine for my husband, a native of Senegal, the baby and I needed to produce Visas or purchase a return flight. 

I lost it!  Right. In. That. Moment. 

I don’t know who I was more upset with in the seconds surrounding those moments that it seemed like everything was doomed.  I was upset that things had come together so last minute that we didn’t even have time for Visas. But, I clung to the knowledge that we did not need a Visa for stays less than 90 days.  Not to mention, I knew there were ways around that required Visa post 90 days once we got to Senegal. And not in an illegal sense but, I am married to a native of Senegal and my child there would be considered Senegalese.

The real issue was the Delta worker that barely spoke English and obviously had aspirations to work for Homeland Security or Border Control because she was taking her job just a bit too seriously.  The only good thing that came out of my outburst was that it attracted another Delta worker who was apparently more seasoned and used to the ruckus that could potentially happen with delivering bad news to someone attempting international travel.

I heard her say to the other lady, “let’s call Global.”  I didn’t know what “Global” was or what would be the outcome, but we were running out of time to get through security.  I had never run through an airport, and I secretly always judged people who did. I recall still thinking to myself whenever I saw others attempt to airport run, "how irresponsible are you to show up so last minute that you have to run all the way to the gate?"

And, then it happened. We got clearance from Global to proceed without proof of Visa or the need to purchase a return trip.  

Naturally, we became that couple that got frantically went through security and set off for a dead run all the way to the gate...with a toddler and three carry-ons!

All I could hear in the background was “Final boarding call for the Sylla family! Please report to gate…”.  

I couldn’t run any faster, I just ran and hoped for the best. I was too stressed even to be embarrassed. The only thought I could hold in my psyche was to keep running. I could also no longer hold onto if we would make it or not, the only way we had a chance was if I stayed focused on what the task, which was running.

And so it was….we boarded the flight.   Literally, moments later we were in the sky with a final destination of Mother Africa.