Fear is “An unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm.”

Being afraid is a normal part of the human mind. Some people fear the unknown sea, the height of climbing a mountain or even something as minuscule as flying on a plane for the first time. No matter what it is, there is something in life we all fear and most of the time it is because we subconsciously fear the actual idea of death being the result, whether we know it or not.

On March 22, 2016, when I landed in Newark, New Jersey, I was supposed to tell the stewardess that I had a connecting flight to Brussels that I was about to miss. I forgot to mention the important detail and feared my Father would be upset with my irresponsible action. So instead, I ran across the Newark airport with 15 minutes until my next plane took off. I got lucky, matter of fact; I was the last one on board. After settling down in my seat, preparing for my 6 hour flight, my plane was delayed by a few minutes which made me feel pretty annoyed considering the stress I had just went through to make the flight.

After a few glasses of complimentary chardonnay and a cat nap later, we finally landed in a country I have never been to before, Brussels, Belgium. As I am a world traveler, I was prepared to go through security, customs, find my arranged driver and rest at my hotel until my Father and Sister arrived to meet me for the first stop in our planned journey.

But the pilot was not letting us off the plane.

As most of my friends know, I do not like waiting. At all.

The pilot was making announcements on the plane that were not making any sense, all I really got out from his strong Dutch accent was, “There has been a security breach,” and “explosion.” After traveling 9 hours, all my mind was focused on was getting to my hotel, ordering room service, taking a shower and passing out. Nothing he said was going through to my head, in one ear and out the other.

After an hour or two later (I lost track after the pilot’s 6th announcement of “It’s going to be a while.”), we were finally allowed off the plane. Three buses pulled up in front of our plane to pick us up, which I didn’t find abnormal since I have been transported to the airport this way before. Except, I wasn’t taken into the airport, I was taken into what I would compare to a garage. And once again, I was annoyed, confused, and still feeling impatient about getting to my hotel. I saw people taking videos and pictures of everybody bundled up in blankets that were provided by the airport, plastic cups of water in their hands and thought to myself, “Why does everyone look like they’re being held hostage?”

I overheard one of the employees mentioning that they were evacuating anyone whose final destination was Brussels for the day, so I had her show me the way out of the garage.

I met a few people out front and asked to borrow their phones to contact my driver; but apparently, no one could use their phones. All cellular connections were cut off, and all roads near the airport were blocked off. I asked them how far it was to get to any sort of transportation and showed them the address of my hotel. They told me “5 kilometers, all public transportation has been blocked off due to a bombing in the metro station. If you are going to have anyone pick you up, you have to walk ‘such and such amount’ and go over the bridge.’”

What the hell does that mean?!

I know I had to learn this in math or chemistry, whichever subject I disliked in school but all I wanted to know was if I needed to switch from my heels to combat boots to walk a couple of miles. How do I get out of here in this 40 degrees weather, in a country I don’t know, around people that speak French or Dutch, which I know none of? Being in Spanish II Honors in High school did not help this situation at all.

I finally opened my eyes; something that I unfortunately admit is hard for me to do and actually took a look at my surroundings. But really, I only took a look to see if there was someone around willing to give me a ride. I was about to hitchhike that’s how desperate I was to get out of that area and get somewhere that had Wi-Fi. First world problems. Well, that’s when I realized, all that was around me were cops, cops, ambulances, and cops.

What’s going on?

Few minutes later I saw a couple of people walking, did not know where they were going, didn’t care either, just needed to get out of the chaos. So I followed. Maybe I would find Wi-Fi or a taxi somewhere along the way. So, I carried on with my carry-on suitcase, huge purse and walked. To where? I had no idea.

The people around me were wearing bright, obnoxiously yellow jersey’s signifying they were cops. Why was I not seeing one normal car in sight that did not have a blue light on the front of their car?

And then it hit me.

My Father has always called me, “Ms. California,” because Cali is three hours behind in time, and I was always “3 minutes behind in jokes.” I’ll admit, I can be slow at times but during this walk, I actually had a second to think and everything finally added up.

Explosions, bombs, attacks, airport evacuation, news reporters and cops everywhere, roads are closed off, and no public transportation, how could I have been so oblivious.

Brussels, Belgium was under attack.

Then I realized, I subconsciously knew what had been going on, but I was so over the traveling and waiting I just wanted to get out of the airport. The reason I wanted to get to my hotel was to feel the security of being safe whether it was my original driver that picked me up or if I found a random person to get me there.

That’s when the tears started rolling down and the actual reality and possible chance of danger hit me. And I felt the fear

Before leaving Florida, I was not on the best terms with all my friends; I did not have the best pre-trip weekend. My trip became more of a “getaway” than a vacation and I felt it was completely necessary for time to think and time apart from everyone.

Time heals everything, right?

Then I remembered my best friend Eileen’s words from weeks before. We had gotten into a tiff, and she called me the next morning with, “D, I love you and I am sorry. I don’t want to fight, we don’t know what could happen tomorrow and I don’t ever want to leave us on a note where I am upset with you.” Unfortunately, I was in a tiff with her again at the moment this all was going on and I could truly relate to what she meant this time. What if I am never able to tell her how much she means to me again? Or how much I love her? I was waiting for time to pass over on this “get away,” for us to make amends, but what if that’s not going to be an option for us anymore?

As I kept walking down the streets of Belgium, I realized that the airport I flew into, no one was going to be able to get in or out. My Father and Sister were supposed to come in later that evening from London, so what is going to happen now? Am I even going to see them on this trip? Will I have to wait for airports to open up again to fly over to Amsterdam to meet them? Or what if I never see them again? The last text I received from my Father was, “I can’t wait to see you!” But as I was walking, I became more and more aware of my surroundings, profiling everyone around me. Then I found myself walking in fear, thinking to myself, “Where and when is the next bomb going to go off? Below me or next to me?”

I finally accepted the idea of March 22nd, 2016 being my final day on this Earth.

After a few miles of aimless walking, I ran into a few Dutch ladies who let me use their office phone to call my driver and use their Wi-Fi while I wait. Their hospitality made me feel comfortable and safe. I had a WhatsApp message from my Father’s colleague who kept in touch about my whereabouts so he could make his way over to me. It was 5am in the morning, Florida time when I finally got Wi-Fi. I am grateful that my friend Nick was able to help me calm down from the tragic event. Later, my roommate Sarah finally woke up and Face Timed me and Sofia was finally able to get in contact with me as well. I felt comfort and security just in being able to contact my friends from home.

Eventually, I finally made it to my hotel, thanks to my Fathers colleague. By the end of the day I had many warm thoughts and prayers. I later found out that the bomb at the airport I landed at had gone off at 8am; my plane had landed at 8:08 a.m. My first thought after hearing this was, “Thank God my flight from Jersey ended up being a few minutes delayed, everything happens for a reason.”

I guess it isn’t my time yet.

Eileen and I made our mends as we realized that her previous words actually meant something and we both truly realized that anything really could happen.
My Father and Sister finally landed in London after all this chaos occurred. I cannot even imagine what he was thinking arriving to the texts he received, such as “There was an explosion, what is your daughter's number?” and “Daddy, I’m Scared!!!” We made arrangements to meet up the following day. My family flew to Amsterdam that evening and I took a two and a half hour train ride over there the next morning.

With this event that has taken place in my life, my daily gratitude journal has been larger than normal. I am thankful for my friends that have helped me through it all, while I was alone. I am thankful for the people that reached out to insure my safety. I am thankful for the kind ladies who let me stay with them while I waited for my ride. I am thankful for my father’s colleague that I had never met before, who made sure that I still was able to enjoy some locally crafted beer in Belgium, and sight-see as much as I could in a few hours’ time. I am thankful that my family was at the station to greet me when I arrived to Amsterdam. I am thankful that I even made it to Amsterdam. I am thankful to have spent the time that I did with my family, and to have made it back to Florida safely. I am thankful for another opportunity to be able to tell my friends and family how much I love them everyday. And most of all, I am thankful to be here, safe, healthy and alive today.

Don’t ever take anyone for granted. Because one day you’ll wake up and they won’t be here anymore, and we never know when that time will be. The dreadful idea is not a daily thought that crosses our mind but don’t think for a second that it will never happen. Everybody has their destined time. It is a fact that I have been forced to learn to accept and with that being said the people in my life have to get used to my daily, “I love you and am thankful for you” texts, because I will never stop reminding them how important they are to me.