Writing on a jet plane

It’s 2am Monday New Zealand time, 6am Sunday in DC, and I have no idea what time or day it is right now right here. We have just passed over the first thing I’ve ever seen on this flight over this vast and mostly empty ocean—Apo (?), an island ringed with lights, an even smaller light ring to the south of it. after so many hours of black sea and star-studded sky, seeing the ring of lights below looked otherworldly, like I was seeing a secret alien colony. And I think New Zealand is isolated!

The long trip is nearly over now. I left GMU and my students and colleagues at 1:30 DC time Saturday afternoon, rushing out for Mom to take me to the airport as she did last time I made this journey. It was hard to say goodbye, even though to the students I am almost not gone at all—have missed only two classes and will miss only one more before we’re all together in the summer again. To my colleagues’ eyes, though, I miss every weekly meeting, and that’s a significant factor in the way we all do our work.

Other than the goodbyes with my mom and my friends, it has been an utterly painless trip, although the general outlines of it don’t sound so good. On the way from DC I was in almost the back row of the plane, in a middle seat, between an Australian professor and a National Guardsman returning from training in Germany. The plane was packed with a middle school group coming back from a trip to DC, and with the other National Guardsmen, big and boisterous and exhausted from their travels thus far. But both of the fellows I sat between were warm and interesting, and the 5.5 hour flight seems like a short one since the 12:45 minute flight is to follow. So it wasn’t bad. And now this flight is coming to an end (only 3 more hours and I still haven’t watched a movie) and I’m just a stone’s throw from home.

The trip—which I absolutely would have gotten out of if I could have—was a real success. I saw dear friends and colleagues and family, I reconnected with pieces of myself that I had been away from these last months. And Michael and the kids and Rob were all fine at home without me—the videoskyping with the kids meant that I could see them almost every day and that I felt close to them even from so far away.

The biggest surprise of this transit time has been hearing my name called out in LAX after checking in for the Auckland flight. Susan, a professor from Christchurch with whom I work on an NZCER project, was on my flight across the Pacific. She had been presenting a paper I cowrote and talking to lots of people I knew at AERA in Chicago, and we sat and caught up together and it felt very very village-y. I expect New Zealanders to run into people they know on these planes, but I don’t expect that for me. Ah, now they’ve fixed the video screen at my seat and I’ll watch the movie I promised Naomi I’d watch on the journey.

Now I’ve breakfasted and landed, I’ve crossed through immigration (where I’ve traveled in the “New Zealand passport holders and residents” lane and the man has said, “Welcome home,” to me) waited endlessly for my bags, cleared through the quarantine control and walked through the Auckland dawn to the domestic terminal, where I’ve checked in, asked about which side of the plane has a good view (they’re not sure and it doesn’t matter as there aren’t any other window seats free anyway). And now I’m waiting in an internet free zone and watching the brilliant sunrise over the runways.

As I look back over the trip, the most wonderful parts were the conversations I had with people who are interesting, smart, and wonderful. The most nerve-wracking were the Harvard class and meeting with the editor.

And now I’m home, French doors open to the cool Autumn breeze, dog lying at my side, Michael unpacking the bag, kids having eaten their chocolate and shaken their snowglobes. There were long and tender hugs at the airport and then the drive back through the hills and along the sea. It is glorious glorious glorious to be back here and back with the family. I’ll write more about that Harvard reception with the bigwigs soon, but right now I’m off to do that most blissful of all post-travel activities…shower.