Travel, travel stories

Running through Stockholm Airport

The thumping of my fingers tapped against my phone as my breathing began to stiffen. 15h45. 10 minutes till the plane lands. As my nerves begin to rise the pilot made an announcement over the loud speaker, “Ladies and gentlemen please take your seats and fasten your seat belts. We will be landing in 15 minutes.” As the horse voice said the last few words of his sentence my hands rushed to grab my phone, my index finger quickly tapped the home button and brought to life the clock that showed: 15h46. Millions of thoughts rushed through my head as I calculated the math. My flight would be landing at 16h00, five minutes late. And what did that mean? Well for me it meant once the plane landed I would have to grab all my things and and run like it was nobody’s business. Maybe you’re wondering why. Why would I have to run? Well my next flight, which would be taking me back home, was set to depart at 16h35. And for my, now second time flying internationally by myself I hadn’t a very good clue on what I would have to do in order to get to my gate without missing my flight. Because missing my flight would mean missing another day of school, spending more money, and being stuck in Sweden. And that was just not an option for me.

|”Because missing my flight would mean missing another day of school, spending more money, and being stuck in Sweden.”

As the plane descended towards the Earth, my heart beat began to rise. Quicken with each minute that passed. My fingers tapped rapidly on my phone as my eyes watched the clock. I can’t do this, I can’t do this was the only thought that ran through my head as the plane slammed down onto the pavement. My hand grabbed for my seat belt ready to unlatch the sliver device that bound me to the chair. 16h07. As my eyes enlarged at the new time written across my phone, the thoughts of I can’t transformed into I can, I can and I have to. Funny thing is, well… I don’t want to spoil any of the story for you all because that is, after all, what you are all here for no? I’ll just skip the spoilers and get to my point. Anyway, being put into a tough position can be fun in a way, I think. Yes, in the moment I was 100% going to s**t my pants from the nerves boiling in my stomach but, at the same time I wanted to prove to myself that I could and I would. I would make it to my other plane! Even if that meant looking like a fool running through the Stockholm airport. And on top of that the adrenaline that pulses through my veins as I put myself into unexpected, uncomfortable positions, well it may just be me but, that…that is something I crave.

|“Even if that meant looking like a fool running through the Stockholm airport.”

Pulling to a stop at the gate I jumped out of my seat and a flood of bodies followed my idea. Survival mode was a go. I had to get out as fast as I could and sprint to the unknown gate of my next flight. Luckily, knowing the night before that I would have limited time in Stockholm I managed to select a seat closest to the front as I could. Row 12, to be exact. Watching the other passengers rush to grab their bags I knew I had to start doing the same. Turning to the woman next to me I quietly asked if I could scoot past her and grab my stuff. “When’s your flight?” she asked, packing her headphones into her black structured purse. “At 4:35.” I quickly replied. As the crowd of passengers began to hurry themselves out of the cabin, I reached above in the overhead compartment and yanked my purple carry-on out, slamming it onto the floor. With my coat and yellow backpack on I was ready for the marathon I was about to face.

|“I had to get out as fast as I could and sprint to the unknown gate of my next flight.”

First step off the plane. 16h09. Go, the only thought that ran through my head. I dragged my suitcase through the glassed tunnels that would lead me inside. Immediately as I stepped into the airport I knew I had no clue which direction to go. Left or right? At random I chose left and then off I went, running not knowing where exactly to go. Until I found a screen with the departure gates. My eyes danced around the words, searching. My heart beating faster with each second I wasted on finding my flight. Funny how time can seem to go by so fast when you’re nervous. Finally my eyes landed on: F59. My head spun left and right, looking above at the signs until I finally noticed 50-69. With that little bit of information I started running again, dragging my purple suitcase with me and my heavy winter coat flying behind me. Sprinting through the airport I finally reached border control and managed to get through within seconds. Then I reached another line of people at the entrance of gate F59. Handing over my passport and boarding pass I could finally breathe. I made it!

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