[yourstruly-a]

-December 14 2019.

Flight UA5759

-Another not so happy flight. Alone and scared not by choice. Again. What’s the lesson here?

I started my day by missing my bus to the airport. I was off to a great start. I was getting out of the Uber as the bus was driving away at the bus stop. I was suppose to get on that exact bus to get to the airport in time. I felt like the man in every single cliche ending I’ve ever seen in a “little too late” story line. Except why was I a little too late? I checked the time. That bus was 3 minutes early. They were a little too early. I waited for the next bus. That bus was also 3 minutes early. I checked the website to make sure I wasn’t losing it. Then I thought, how many people do you think missed this bus? Then I laughed. I laughed cause I was trying not to cry. It was a rough week. My 65 and sunny vacation turned into a freezing 52 and rainy locked in a house with 2 teenagers who hate each other, blasting Ryan Adams records and consuming about 6 pots of coffee. It was lit.

I got to the airport. I boarded the plane after 8 days in this state. I was stuffed in the middle seat of a tiny aircraft that was so old, I could almost smell the cigarette smoke still lingering in the leather seats. Inflight smoking was outlawed too long ago for this to be true. But maybe it was the ash trays that sparked the nostalgic stank. Why do airplanes still have ash trays? I grew up around smoking grandparents. I like the smell of smoke. I was never a smoker but something is comforting about the scent. I started off relaxed and ready to get home. Boy was I wrong.

We started taking off the runway. Full speed ahead. The pilot had just gotten the nose lifted from the pavement. There was an awful noise from the right side of the aircraft. Something went terribly wrong. The aircraft immediately kiltered. Right wing was almost on the ground and we were still half way in the air. Almost out of runway to put the plane down immediately before it was too late. The pilot did it. It was unreal. I was in row 8 with a perfect view and he maybe had about 20 yards away from the end of the runway. We weren’t going home anytime soon. Sat on the runway a good 2 hours before the mechanics reached the aircraft. They couldn’t diagnose the problem. Taxied us back to the gate and all of us left the plane. I was getting text updates about the status of the departure every half hour starting another hour delayed. 6 hours had gone by until they gave us the option to reassign our flights. I was alone with a phone that was about to die and boarding passes that were no good. I couldn’t take it anymore. I opted to get on a plane the next day with a layover in Denver and then home by 4:30 pm at MSP. I was set to go, I was going to hop on a plane tomorrow and get home safely.

It was 11:30 PM by the time I left the airport. I had to catch the bus that betrayed by that same morning. I made sure I was 3 minutes earlier than posted pick up time. The bus was 3 minutes late. I just about had it. I boarded the bus and got ready for the hour long ride home through the city and up into a suburban bus stop ride off the freeway. I got dropped off at the bus stop and then had to take an Uber to where I was staying. No ubers were in sight. They gave me an estimated time of 60 minutes until a driver could come get me. I waited for what seemed like the longest 60 minutes of my life. I was stuck at the bus stop. Scared and alone. Again. This seems to be the theme of my life these days.

I made it 30 minutes before I wasn’t the only one at the bus stop. I was approached by the silhouette of what seemed to be a man who was coming right up to me. The bus stop light was behind him and he had his hood up. I couldn’t see his face. I was freaking out at this point. He started strong towards my way. Slowed down and stood about 20 feet from me. For a good 5 minutes he just stood there. Took his hood off then started my way again. This time I could see his face. He was a man. A man with glossed over eyes, sores all over his face, and an empty expression. This man had been through some shit. I was terrified. He started off strong, told me how he’s fleeing the state cause his dad is trying to give him some injection and then send him off to this treatment center. He asked where I was flying to, where my family was and if I was traveling alone. I gave him fake answers to every question. At this point I was just trying to make it into salvation. That bus could show up any minute.

He asked to use my phone. He had misplaced his is what he had told me. His words were all jumbled, his mannerisms were all over the place. This guy was on something and I was just trying to not aggravate him. I told him he had 10 minutes to use my phone before the Uber came. He called whoever he called if he called anyone for that matter. My call log didn’t have any number on there... he was having a full on conversation with this said person. At this point this man had sit right next to me on this bench at this bus stop in the middle of nowhere. Why was I alone? Why am I in this situation? How dangerous is this? What the hell was i thinking? I was scared and alone. Again. What is the lesson here? The conversation he was having turned hostile. I was 3 seconds away from losing it. My Uber showed up 3 minutes early. I wasn’t scared anymore. I took back my phone and bolted into the Uber. Checked my call log and there was nothing on there. He never called anybody.

And that’s when it hit me. He is also one that is just scared and alone. He was at the lowest low of his life. Yes he was using drugs, yes he made that choice. That is how he scared and alone copes. I was scared and alone. Was this the lowest low of my life? How am I going to cope? I haven’t gone into why life has wrecked havoc on me but in due time. I’m learning to cope. I feel a pivot in the near future and God do I hope so. I see a little glimmer of hope. I have to hang onto that and find a healthy way to be ok with being alone and scared.

Yours truly. -A

[yourstruly-a]

-December 6 2019. My first happy flight alone. I chose to fly alone this time. My last flight alone was December 18 2018. I did not choose to go alone that time or even chose where I wanted to fly. I was getting ready for work, my phone rang 5 minutes before I was to hit the road. My sister called. My heart sank when I heard her cracking voice. I could almost hear the tears she was holding back in her eyes to be able to tell me clearly. I knew something tragic had happened. They were in Colorado skiing. She asked me where I was. What I was doing and where I was going.

We only ask people these questions when we know the news we’re about to give them is going to change everything. My dad had suffered a major cardiac arrest. We didn’t know the extent. We didn’t know the prognosis. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to see my dad alive again. He was out for 25 minutes until he was able to be revived. At 25 minutes you have the cognitive state to consider, was his brain and soft tissue going to be able to survive with lack of oxygen for that long? Probably not.

We didn’t know how bad it was. My father had to be shocked by an AED twice before any function resumed. He flat lined. Started up again but this time in A-fib. His heart was quivering and was not healthy enough to keep his blood pumping for too much longer. This is when my sister had called me. I could hear the struggle in my dads moans in the background. He was so scared. I was so scared. I knew I had to pull it together for my dad when all I wanted to do was scream. My sister put me on the line with him. He didn’t speak. I just heard cries. Cries from my mom, my sister and my dad. I was the only one not crying. I thought something was wrong with me. Why wasn’t I crying? This could be the last time I could ever be in contact with my father coherent. I was strong.

I took a deep breath, thought about what I would want to hear if I was in my dads position. I just said “Dad you need to stay strong. You need to stay hopeful and you need to be ok with being at the mercy of those around you. Do what they say. Remain still.” I hung up the phone. Screamed. Cried. Violent outburst. You name it. I had my moment, a 5 minute moment. Got it together. Booked my flight to Denver, Colorado not knowing what I would be flying into. Would my dad be deceased by the time I even booked my flight or even by the time I landed? I had no idea what to expect. It was the longest flight of my life. I was alone. Alone and terrified. And so so sad. I’m too young to lose my dad. I was 25.

My dads a fighter. A big big fighter. He fought the guy who was trying to do CPR on him and save his life. This came from fear. My dad didn’t know what was going on and he sure shouldn’t have been fighting the man who saved his life. His name was Matthew. My dads saving grace. Matthew chose a career where this wasn’t the first or the last time he’s had to resuscitate someone. You fought for my dad like many other people you have fought for before him. Thank you Matthew. We will never be able to repay you. You gave my dad another shot at life.

You made us all realize that life is just too short. Cliche as it sounds, it’s the truth. You know, find that courage. Find that drive to make your life everything you hoped it would be. Say no, say yes, say whatever you want. This life is what we make of it. I wisened up and I am making life everything I hoped it would be.

My life started September of 2019. I walked away from the one thing that was holding me back. I get a fresh start. And I am doing it alone. Terrified and alone but this time on my own terms. I’m at the mercy of nobody.

Ces’t La Vie.

Yours truly. -A

[yourstruly-a]

Name: Alisa Dalager

Age: 26

City/State: Maple Grove, MN.

Occupation: Hair Stylist

Looks like everybody else’s name huh? What makes me any different than any other individual pouring their guts out on here? Nothing. It’s going to be nothing special. Here I go anyway.

-A