The doors are shut, passengers settled, tray tables and seats secured in their upright positions. As soon as we make our final turn, the four massive engines on the Lufthansa Boeing 747-8 roar to life. In a matter of seconds, we are barreling down Newark International Airport’s runway. We pitch upwards, and the ground begins to fall beneath our feet. It isn’t long until the detailed streets of New Jersey quickly fade into simple lines and ambiguous shapes. My flight tradition demands that I look out the window at the partly cloudy, gray April sky. Only a few hours ago, it was blue and clear, as millions of Americans were looking towards the heavens, trying to get a glimpse of the solar eclipse. Now, the foreshadowing of rain embraces the state.
We continue to climb smoothly, banking from left to right to left again, as the pilots align the massive airliner with their pre-determined flight plan. Then it happened. The partially gray sky shattered suddenly into a bright field of cotton candy clouds, pale blue sky, and blazing sun. As we floated above the earth, nose pointed towards the Atlantic, I settled into my seat, knowing it was going to be a good flight.
Early afternoon faded into dusk, and dusk to night, we quickly approached the coming morning. As we crossed over the west coast of England, in the distance, you could just see a little light in a sea of black. And behind that was the edge of the world. The little light we saw was Liverpool; its street and building lights were the only reminder that there were other people below us. In the distance, I could see the sun starting to wake the dark sky, turning the very edge into a light purple and orange. As we crossed over the island nation, I began to think about an episode of the “West Wing.” In season 2, there is an episode titled “The Portland Trip.” It follows Martin Sheen’s President Bartlet as he crosses America to an event in Oregon. Leaving late at night due to a budget meeting, the White House Press Secretary C.J. Cregg, played by Allison Janney, asks the president why they left so late. He poetically responds by saying: “a long flight across the night. You know why late flights are good? Because we cease to be earthbound and burdened with practicality.”
Flying 500 miles per hour, in total darkness, 35,000 feet above Earth gives you a great chance for reflection. In our busy lives, it becomes difficult to stop and think for a moment. Flying at night gives you the ability, even if for only a few hours, to peacefully reflect. As we crossed the Atlantic, I sat quietly listening to music, deep in thought. I reflected on my first semester in Germany: the good, the bad, and the unforgettable. I thought of the friends that I made: Julia, Didesu, Tobia, Andre, and Vojta. I reflected on my close group of guys: Kristof, Ali, and Zsombor. I thought of my family in New Jersey, and my friends back at Holy Cross, who I was able to visit last week.
But I also considered my future. I thought about what it will look like now–how it has changed since coming to Germany, and what it means for me once I return to the US. I thought about the coming semester. What would it be like without my friends there? Will the experience be the same as last semester? What will I do next? As these questions flooded my brain, I looked out the window at that little light in the darkness and the sliver of purple sky in the distance. I knew then that I needed to “put it a different way,” as President Bartlet said.
So I thought some more. And after a while, I realized that I hope my semester isn’t the same as the one I had during the fall. I had an amazing time during the fall! From the prep course activities to hanging out with friends and my classes, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But I simply don’t want to repeat what I know works. I want to step out of my comfort zone. I want to visit new countries, try harder climbing routes, and push the limits of my German-speaking ability. I hope to build on my past semester, using what I learned to make this one even better.
As I raced across the Atlantic, I realized that the sun had set on my fall semester, and it was time to look forward to “what’s next.” And as I looked at the window this morning, I saw a new semester on the horizon, bright and inviting, and I realized that I can’t wait for it to start.
