Diego Lingad

Final Piece
8 March 2017
Between Coming and Going

MNL, CRK, TPE, NRT, RNO, SEA - after moving around so much, airport codes feel

more familiar than street addresses. Millions of people use airports every year, usually to go on

journeys far away. In addition to the luggage, these people carry different stories of why they are

traveling. Airports carry these stories in the gates and concourses for the few hours that most

people spend in them. Then, a few boarding announcements later, these stories go.

HKG

All standby passengers have been rolled over to the flight tomorrow morning. After

that announcement was made, the crowd surrounding the United Airlines ticketing counter

lingered a bit, hanging on a thread of hope that there would be a last minute no-show whose seat

assignment could be given up. As time goes on and the flight departure time gets closer, people

lose hope and back away from the counter. Some take out their iPads to look for other flights.

Some stay at the counter, still unconvinced that there is no more space available. Some trudge

back to the seats theyve been camping out on the past few days. This particular scene occurred

in Hong Kongs international airport, but scenes like this can be seen in airports all over the

world. This crowd of people was made up of airline employees, employee dependents, and

chosen guests, using heavily discounted tickets to get on a unsold airline seats. With over 200

seats on an airplane and countless airlines flying everyday, there are bound to be enough open

seats to go around, right? I wish.

This was the first time my mom and I flew standby. Unfortunately, it was peak travel

season. Additionally, a tropical storm blowing through the Pacific caused the airline to reroute

passengers onto the flight we were supposed to get on. We were basically stuck in Hong Kong.
 We walked around the check in counters, looking for a place to sit. Eventually, we settled

on a row of seats at the end of the ticketing floor, with a view of the runway. I watched the vivid

red and gold swirls of Hong Kong Airlines jets fade into the blue summer skies. Further out,

Cathay Pacifics white brushwing logo, an elegant brushstroke that resembles a bird taking

flight, descended from the sky, outlined by a backdrop of green paint that matches the waters of

Hong Kong harbor. Countless planes come and go, carrying countless lives to countless

destinations.

TPE

I watched the Hello Kitty planes taxiing around the runway, hundreds of people waiting

inside, unable to take off due to bad weather. Stormy weather did not make exceptions just

because the plane looked cute. This storm caused my flight to be delayed too. I was sitting with

my family in Taipei Taoyuan International Airports Hello Kitty-themed gate. The wall was

painted a light pink, the pillars looked like pink and white marshmallow swirls, and Hello Kittys

mouthless face was painted all over. Tired from having already traveled for twelve hours,

everything in this gate looked annoyingly cheerful. I just wanted to get to the Philippines already.

I just wanted to come home.

Home. Trudging around the airports luxury duty-free stores and the various themed

boarding gates, I thought I was on my way home. I made my way around the airport, pretty much

memorizing the layout, confident of my future. Even though I lived in Reno for seven years, I

thought of it as a stay away from my true home. Everything would be better once I went back

to this true home.

The skies cleared a bit and flights were allowed to resume. We boarded our flight, but the

passengers were already irritated by the long delay. Honey, just give us some peanuts or
something. Were starving! one lady complained to the flight attendant, dramatically elongating

each vowel. Others were restless and did not want to sit down. It didnt make it any better that

the line for takeoff took about an hour. So when we finally arrived in Manila, people clapped.

The sound of applause filled the plane cabin - I thought I was finally coming home.

MNL

The arrivals gate at Manilas Ninoy Aquino International Airport is one of my favorite

places. People push carts filled with large balikbayan boxes filled with gifts for their family.

They go through the customs counters and out into part of the airport without air-conditioning.

The warm humidity wraps around them, as if it was a welcoming embrace from the motherland.

From there they go down a ramp, careful not to let the boxes slip out of the cart, and look for

their welcoming parties. The waiting area is supposed to be organized alphabetically by family

name, but people usually just scan through the waiting faces, looking for the ones that are

looking for them too. Then come the hugs and kisses from family members long separated by

economic opportunity.

Perhaps my favorite arrival memory in Manila was when my parents and I surprised my

sister. My sister was living away from us, studying in the University of the Philippines, and was

having a hard time being away from us. She was at the airport to pick up just my dad, but last

minute, my mom and I decided to tag along. My mom and I were only staying for a week just for

a quick hello and goodbye. When we came down the ramp and into the waiting area, we first saw

my lola, or grandma. She hugged my dad, but just looked at me and my mom. After a few

seconds of processing, she realized it was really us, hugging us, eyes full of surprise. My dad

was looking for my sister, who apparently went to a restroom. My mom and I turned faced the

window of a small store, making sure our faces were hidden. My dad found my sister and led her
over to us. We turned around and my sister screamed. She screamed loudly for a solid few

seconds, overreacting as usual, making everyone around us look at her.

We then drove to my aunts house, where all my titos and titas were gathered for a mini

reunion. They looked at us silently at first, as if my mom and I were ghosts. Tita Tuchie, my

youngest aunt, even started tearing up in surprise. The others got their wits together and

remembered to open the gate to let us in. This sure was one way to make an entrance.

HKG

Its a strange feeling, being stuck in an airport. Everyone around you has somewhere to

go. Its like being stranded in the space between coming and going. Tour groups from

Mainland China flow from the arrival doors, with the tour guides holding their colorful signs up

high. A group of British rugby players banter with each other as they wait to check in. Two

Filipinas with boxes look through the faces waiting near the arrivals door, probably domestic

helpers looking for their new bosses. The airport employees leave the counters and clock out.

Then, before you know it, all these people go and youre still there.

When night falls and the crowds dwindle, other standby passengers make themselves

comfortable on various seats. My mom, being friendlier than she thinks she is, befriends a lady

sitting close to us. Ive been waiting for four days, the woman tells us. She doesnt want to

give up and just buy a ticket because she bought a condo in the Philippines without telling her

husband. She seemed to be making the most of her experience in the airport, though. Shes been

trying out the different restaurants, and recommended the place that serves congee. I guess after

impulse-buying a condo, you might as well enjoy your airport exile.

A few meters away from the seating area I spotted a lady clad in a flowing black dress.

She had a glazed look on her eyes, walking aimlessly, holding a cup of Starbucks. Sometimes
she was pacing around the seating area. When she wasnt there, I would see her float over to

Starbucks. She made me afraid because apart from looking like the airports resident apparition, I

was afraid that I would reach that level of hopelessness after a few days of being stuck.

In an effort to stave off boredom, I went to McDonalds to try their special menu items.

They had a burrito-type dish that had a patty of fried rice wrapped with cucumber, lettuce and

chicken fillet. Trust me, this actually tastes better than it sounds. Burrito-esque meal in hand, my

mom and I went over to a counter. In front of us were two Filipinas eating before one of them

headed off to the Philippines. My mom, again being more congenial than shed like to admit,

started a conversation with them. They told us their experience working as domestic helpers in

Hong Kong. They talked about the cramped and abusive working conditions they initially went

through. Fortunately, they both found work with better bosses. Now though, one of the two was

heading back to the Philippines to see her dying father. Apparently, her father flatlined for a few

minutes but miraculously came back to life. Afterwards, my mom told me that she suspected

that the womans father likely already passed away, but her family wanted to tell her in person.

This is something that probably almost all Filipinos fear when living abroad - that day you get

the phone call and hastily pack clothes, not forgetting the black ones, and get the first flight out.

MNL

I got the call during dead week of my first quarter at UW. My lolos, or grandpas,

condition did not look like it was getting any better. I expected this, but I was restless the whole

day. A few days after I took my final exams, I flew with my mom and dad to the Philippines.

The flight going there felt different. At one moment, I was revising one of my final essays

due in a few days. I felt so cool and professional, typing furiously like all the business class

business people around me. The next moment I was watching a childrens cartoon, tears silently
rolling down my cheeks after something in the movie reminded me of the purpose of my travel.

Then during the meal service, turbulence shook the plane vigorously. I lifted the salad to my

mouth and shoveled the vegetables in furiously, worried that I wouldnt even make it to the

Philippines, determined not to waste the food.

With the emotional roller coaster of a plane ride over, we arrived in the Philippines. We

arrived in Terminal 3, the nice terminal, and made our way to the exit. The arrivals gates in

Philippine airports typically feel like some of the happiest places in the world. Yes, the waiting

families were there. Yes, the tight embraces between the long-separated parents and children

were also there. But this time, it did not feel so happy. We found my uncle, his height making

him stick out tall over a sea of people. Out of all my moms siblings, Tito Boybee was the most

upbeat and optimistic about Lolos situation. He was so optimistic that my mom found it slightly

annoying. Hi atche, he greeted my mom. My mom hugged him tightly, head held up high, eyes

closed, as if she were trying to absorb some of his hope and energy.

We drove through Manila, in between the glistening Christmas lights hung up on trees,

signs, and buildings. The Philippines has three seasons: dry, rainy, and Christmas. Christmas

decorations usually go up in September and the excitement for the holiday is palpable the whole

season. We passed by a set of buildings as black as the sky, outlined by gold lights that look as if

theyre painted on the night. On a normal trip, I would be having fun. On a normal trip I would

arrive at my grandparents house, greeting and catching up with my relatives during one of the

biweekly reunions. On this trip, I might have to say both my final hello and goodbye.

HKG

The following day, a few hours after the woman at McDonalds would have seen her

father, after I saw the lady in black getting another coffee, and after trying the condo ladys
recommended congee, my mom and I were back at the United counter. One hour before

departure, the man at the counter started giving out boarding passes to the standby passengers

with top priority. Minutes passed, and as the time to departure came nearer, I felt more and more

defeated. Right before I turned into another hopeless ghost floating around the airport, the man at

the counter gave us our boarding passes. With only about thirty minutes left to departure, we

sprinted through the airport. Travel tip: When youre late to your flight for whatever reason, you

can jump the security and immigration queues. People will give you a look, but let you through

anyway.

ICN

After doing Incheon Airports free tours of Seoul, I was back in the airport. Seouls

summer was hot and humid, and coming back into the air-conditioned airport provided relief.

Still, I felt anxiety in my chest because I wasnt sure if I would get a seat on my flight back to

Seattle. Ive gotten fairly used to standby travel, but I was still a bit nervous. This was my first

time flying standby by myself.

I went to the standby check in counter and the agent told me to come back an hour before

departure. This wasnt a good sign. This airline usually gives boarding passes early. I had no

choice but to wait, anxious that I would have to run through the entire airport the same way I did

in Hong Kong. I studied the airport map and looked for the gate, planning the route that I would

have to run. I checked the gates to see if the lines were long. I went back to the counter and

stared at the agent a few times to make sure that she knew I was there, eagerly waiting, ready for

that boarding pass! All she had to do was call me over and give me a seat assignment.

Finally, thirty minutes before departure, which would be twenty minutes before airplane

doors closed, I got the boarding pass. I ran to the security checkpoint, which suddenly had a long
line. I started by asking each person, starting from the back, if I could cut in front of them. It was

taking too long and one of the people I asked suggested that I just ask the person at the very front

of the queue. I followed her suggestion, but the lady in front was concerned that all the people

behind her would get mad for letting me go in front of them all. I was running out of time. I went

under the line dividers and went straight to the front. I still had to go through passport control. I

asked the guy in front of me if I could go ahead of him. He just nodded and smiled, but stayed

put. It was finally my turn. Right after I passed the immigration booths, I sprinted to Gate 48,

which was at the end of the hallway. I passed by the family of standby passengers who got their

passes a few minutes before me. They seemed to be taking their sweet time while I was sprinting

and sweating my way through the terminal. By the time I got to the gate, the line of people

boarding was gone, but the door was still open and the agents quickly scanned my boarding pass.

HKG

Breathless, we made it on the flight on time. The doors went up and we were on our way.

I would get used to the standby travel life in the years to come, but for now I was just relieved

that I was no longer stuck in the space between coming and going.