Switzerland: A Short Story

It's morning, my bags are packed. My mother drives me to the airport. We have lunch. We've say our goodbyes. I'm going on the plane, on my way to Switzerland. My mother tells me I don't have to go. But I must. I get on the plane and wave, thinking about what is to come. As my mother cries in her car I sit and admire the in flight entertainment and contemplate my future like the naive 18-year-old that I am. I watch movies and eat bad plane food. I land in Amsterdam and then take a plane to Milan. The woman next to me clings to her husband and finds it difficult to contemplate that I, as a young woman, am brave enough to travel alone. I'm not brave, I think to myself. I'm a fool. I get to Milan and look around. There is no bus waiting for me. I find a strange looking Italian cab driver that doesn't speak German or Spanish or even English. I get in and fear the worst. Exhausted and frightened, I take advantage of the next stop that the driver makes. I flee as the man screams at me in Italian. Where the hell am I? No one can tell me. Those that claim to speak English cannot, and my low-level of proficiency in Spanish is not getting me very far. I find my way back to the airport. I get on the correct bus and cry. A man hands me his cell phone and I call Franklin College Switzerland. I will be late, I tell them. I cry and wonder what the hell I'm doing here. I get to the station in Switzerland. I am taken to a youth hostel. The beauty of Lugano is lost on my 18-year-old frightened self. I get locked in the youth hostel and scream for help. I start to cry. I am tired, lonely, and scared. I don't want this. I don't want to go to university in a foreign country where I don't speak the language. I don't want to study German in an Italian context. This doesn't make sense. My life doesn't make any sense. What the fuck am I doing here? Someone hears my screams and unlocks the door. I go to the office and ask to use the phone. I call my mother. She books a flight home for me immediately.

I go back to the hostel. Other students arrive and we chat. I brush my teeth and hear my stomach rumble. I haven't eaten more than 100 calories worth of food in the last 48 hours. I am numb. I make polite conversation with the other students and nervously fall asleep. I get up the next morning and take a train to a bus, a bus to plane, a plane to another plane, and arrive in Amsterdam. My next flight is delayed for 8 hours. I buy Anne Frank collectors stamps and sit next to a German family and try to explain to them why our flight is delayed. On the flight back home I contemplate my future. I wonder what I thought I was doing. I wonder what the hell I thought I was trying to prove. The plane lands in Detroit. My parents pick me up. I get home and try to comprehend the situation. I let said situation influence my decisions for years afterword. I fall apart.