On Thursday morning I woke up with a worry. My plane departed from Salt Lake City at 9:55 AM, commencing my pilgrimage to finally, FINALLY join Fabio in our new home. My worry: when I arrived in Singapore Fabio wouldn't be able to find me in the airport and I would be lost in Asia without the correct money or a cell phone. Fabio assured me that a 6'7" man would have no trouble finding a 7-month pregnant blonde woman in an Asian airport at 3:00 AM. Apparently we're both anomalies here, or something...
So I took a deep breath, packed a few last-minute things into one of my four checked bags, and drove to the Salt Lake Airport. (One may think four checked bags is a lot, but it's not when one remembers I'm actually packing for three people, not one: Pregnant Katie, Skinny Katie, and Baby G.)
The check-in was a breeze, and thanks to the help of my dear parents I didn't fall over hauling my bags around. We walked to the security check-point and hugged goodbye. I was surprised I didn't cry (except when I said goodbye to Tucker, but I think that was symbolic... or hormones... it's a thin, faded line between the two these days).
I flew to LAX, and from LAX to Tokyo. The flight didn't feel nearly as long as I anticipated. The two seats next to me were empty, so I just put the armrests up and laid down. I had a moment of insecurity where I thought, "Am I allowed to do this?" but I reassured myself with "Oh well, I'm pregnant!" (Yes, I do apply this same dangerous dialogue to my eating habits.)
I was only in Tokyo (technically Narita, I guess) for two hours--long enough to have new empathy for people who travel to the US and don't speak English. Even though the signs and announcements were technically in English as well as Japanese, I still had no idea what they were saying. I would have most certainly been stranded there if it weren't for several Japanese people on my LAX to Tokyo flight who I knew were also connecting to Singapore. I just awkwardly followed five steps behind them and made them really nervous (especially when they stopped at the Duty Free Store!).
Then from Tokyo to Singapore. Again, the flight didn't feel as long as I anticipated (although the last hour and a half were unbearable because I was so anxious to finally be in Singapore and see Fabio). We landed with a jerk and a loud noise that really startled Baby G. I anxiously deplaned and hurried to immigration, where it hit me that I was an immigrant, immigrating. As I stood in line, I was struck by this stunning, three-story statue towering over all the "immigrants":
I think it struck me because it was so symbolic of the life Fabio and I are hoping to build here.
After immigration I approached bagged claim, relieved to see Fabio waiting patiently for me. We picked up my bags and were finally in each other's arms again after six weeks apart. Turns out, a 6'7" man has no trouble finding a 7-month pregnant blonde woman in an Asian airport at 3:00 AM. It felt so good to be with him, I hardly noticed the drunk driver who almost killed us on the way home and our cabby who seemed to believe that lane lines were really just suggestions.
And now I live in Singapore!