April, 2021
Years ago, I flew to Rome to meet Nico. He was on a Gap year after high school and had been farming in Italy. Living with two different families to pick olives, share bountiful meals and challenge himself before returning to academia. I boarded a flight bound for Frankfurt and what was supposed to be a few hours of layover before heading to Rome. I was looking forward to being transported. Some short time before landing, the pilot interfered with my book or movie or whatever source of entertainment I was lounging in.
"It is snowing in Frankfurt. We can land, but all flights will be delayed. The airport is closing."
Promising to arrive in Italy in time for dinner with Nico. Now a promise I could not keep. The plane landed and we lined up to disembark. I had never been to Frankfurt, and my desire to be in Germany had always been minimal. The being Jewish part and the Holocaust part interfered with my desire to travel there. Stepping aside now, I would like very much to go someday.
The stairway moved close to transport us from the plane to the pavement, sprinkled with snowflakes as the hush of a light snow astonished my memory of boarding the flight on a sunny, if rare, San Francisco morning. My turn came to disembark. I looked out as I steadied myself to grasp the cold, metal banister. The softness and hush of whiteness felt like a promise. I finished my descent and turned to look up at the plane. Its size was only partly obvious until I touched the pavement. I turned to look up and up. I was spellbound, amazed, overwhelmed and almost breathless. The plane was the biggest piece of anything I had ever been so close to. Different from the Empire State Building or the Statue of liberty. These edifices were expected. But the plane was something I never expected to see. To be so close to. The feelings of so long ago return now. Fear, anxiety shifting into awe and amazement. How could something so big be transported into the sky? How did it not fall down, how did it stay afloat? How had I been lounging inside only moments before?
I went into the foreign terminal and was astonished to find hordes of people, all stranded in the snow in this place I never expected to be for more than time for coffee and some sweet thing I was sure I deserved. The message boards listed all the canceled flights. I tried to call Nico. I could only leave a message at the hotel where he was staying, waiting for me. He slept until noon in those days when not harvesting or eating plates of pasta.
Lines later, I waited for information on next flights and when I would be able to leave Frankfurt. No, it would not be possible until tomorrow. Coupons for food and a hotel room were passed out to the masses waiting for information about when they could leave. What had happened to the plane? The hugeness of it added to my feeling of being dwarfed and out of control. I couldn’t make the snow stop or get to Italy anytime soon. The airport was covered in tall, glass windows. I wandered through, amazed at being in a place I never planned to be. I found my hotel room and tried to contact Nico. There were pay phones and it was also challenging to change currency. No cell phones then? Amazed now that I managed all of this. Amazed by what we can do when we are sure it will not be possible. Must I come back to this pandemic, 10 years or so from now. Amazed that I did not get irretrievably stuck in Frankfurt before I could choose to visit Germany. Amazed that I did not end up in the hospital on a ventilator, my recurring nightmare of less than a year ago.
The plane was so big, but it alighted on the snowy pavement without hesitation. The pandemic was so big and unexpected. I couldn't disembark however. No alternative form of transportation was available. I had a layover in Frankfurt and then went on to Rome. This last year has been a layover from much that I had come to assume. I wonder what will transport me now, and where will I go?