In the beginning....

The cold air hit me as soon as I stepped off of the airplane.  Even with the canopy down, the frigid wind whipped across my face.  It was February, and it was my first taste of a Chicago winter.

 

Having graduated from flight attendant training only days before, my head buzzed with rules and regulations.  My heart was filled with homesickness even though I had only left my family that morning.

 

As I dragged my over-stuffed bag towards baggage claim, it finally hit me.  I was now a flight attendant.  What had I gotten myself into?  Here I was in a city that I had never been, with limited money, no apartment, four suitcases, and only a three day hotel stay provided by my company.  What was I going to do now?

 

An hour later I was safe in my hotel room.  After calling my parents to let them know that I was ok, I began to cry.  Uprooting myself from family and friends whom cared about me, to a huge city where I knew no one.  It was all in the name of free travel.  What had I really gotten myself into this time?  I pulled out my favourite blanket and pillow from one of my suitcases.  Wrapping them around me, I fell into a deep sleep.

 

The task at hand, the following morning, was to find an address, or at the very least a place to stow my suitcases.  I headed out to the airport to check the want ads in operations.  No one seemed to be looking for anyone like me.  By chance I ran into a girl who graduated in the class before mine.  She had a crash pad, but she said that I was more then welcome to stay there, until I found something better.  As luck would have it, the crash pad was even at the same hotel that I was staying.  Living in a hotel is not the best of circumstances, but at least it was safe.  My mother wasn’t exactly thrilled with the situation.  For now at least I had a place to sleep and stow my bags, until a girl in the class behind me graduated from training.  We had spoken only briefly before I graduated.  The only thing that we had in common, at that point, was we would be both new to Chicago, and knew no one else.

 

Her name was Brooke, and she was only nineteen at the time.  Like me it was her first time away from home.  After two weeks of living in a crash pad, her call came.  True to her word, she told me that she had found a room and that I was welcome to share it with her.  I then packed up my things as soon as possible, grabbed a cab to meet my new room mates.  We shared the place with another flight attendant and pilot, who were dating, but had separate rooms. 

 

I took a leap of faith and sharing a room with a girl that I had spoken to for only a few minutes. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  We both were away from home for the first time, so we looked out for each other.  Brooke would always take me grocery shopping, or pick me up from work if I got home too late.  I would help her get ready for work, if she got called out.   I would iron her uniform, pack her a lunch, or get all of her stuff together.  Sometimes two hours isn’t enough time to get ready.   I tried toteach her how to use mass transit, but she still preferred to have her car.  I don’t think that I would have lasted in those first few months if it weren’t for Brooke’s friendship. 

 

We would spend some nights chatting until the wee hours of the morning.  We also had our weekly pilgrimages to the local tanning salon.  When the weather started getting warm the two of us would lounge by the pool drinking Miller Highlife®, and eating jell-o® shots, while we baked our skin to a golden brown.  While I started to adjust to my new life in Chicago, Brooke grew more and more homesick for her family.  She hated being away from them, and she got tired of always being on the fly.

 

When the lease was up with our apartment, Brooke quit and went back home to be with her family.  I got a place in the heart of Chicago, and thus my love affair with the city began.  I don’t blame her for quitting, this life isn’t for everyone.  She went back to school and went on to do bigger and better things.  She came to visit me once, and we have chatted on the phone a few times over the years.  I still don’t think that she ever realized how much her friendship meant to me.