Flight:

a) Airport:

So, let's go! I arrived at Sheremetyevo at 2 AM. Luckily, the buses were still running, and since I had a travel pass, I didn't pay a dime. You know, sometimes you're heading somewhere with such joy that you think: wow, how cool, I'll be there soon!!! You can't wait for that moment, but this time... If I had been leaving at the end of May, after finishing my exams early, it probably wouldn't have been so sad. When you part with people who are dear and important to you, when you start worrying about how they'll be, you wonder - why did I have to leave right now? But I'm sure they'll be fine and will handle everything without my help.

But I digress, let's get back to the airport. When I travel, I slowly start to crawl into my 'shell.' Yes, you can open up for a while, but only after you've looked around and gotten a feel for things. But here, right from the 'threshold,' a girl approached me: 'Can I ask you something? Are you on the Work and Travel USA program?' A strange question, considering I was wearing a branded green t-shirt. 'Yes, where are you flying to?' One thing led to another, and I found out she was from Tyumen, had spent the night there, and was dying of boredom. We went to get coffee (I spent a long time looking for an outlet to plug in my laptop, but couldn't find one until I finally spotted it in a corner) for 180 rubles (as they say, coffee machines will save the world!) and started talking. The flight was at 7:25, so we spent 2 hours in small talk, after which I heard: 'To Paris?' I turned around and saw another girl, and next to her a guy with VERY familiar features. The girl was from the south, I can't say exactly where, but somewhere near Krasnodar. It's interesting: what drives us to tell certain things to absolute strangers? As you will read later about one homosexual, some are ready to tell every tiny detail of their personal life. What am I getting at? That this girl shared a sad story with me about her ex-boyfriend, who is also flying to America but doesn't even say hello to her now. I saw him, well, he was so-so, a bleached blonde, an 'acquired taste,' let's say. And that guy seemed familiar to me because, as it turned out, he was from Syktyvkar. No wonder I thought, what's with those Komi facial features?

As we were talking, boarding was announced, and we obediently went. I probably impressed the woman at customs so much that I was the only one (!!!) she sent my luggage to Charles de Gaulle (Paris) instead of New York. Apparently, I look more trustworthy when I'm clean-shaven. And here is the long-awaited DutyFree (a tax-free zone where you can buy goods much cheaper than their nominal price in a store). I wonder, are there people who travel somewhere exclusively for these shops? Lots of interesting things: cheap alcohol, perfume, souvenirs (probably for those who forgot). But interest is one thing, and the coffee and juice I drank made themselves felt. Of course, as usual, the men's restroom was 'closed for cleaning,' which meant there was only one way - to the runway. But better to go to the women's. So, I'm wandering around it, looking around, and hop... And just at that moment, my 'favorite' customs officer comes out. 'This is the women's!' she barked. 'But the men's is being cleaned!' 'Then wait.' Okay. I wandered for a couple of minutes and decided to try again. I thought, surely there's no one there now. Just as I open the door, there she is again!!! From her look, I felt like a perverted creep who only thinks about how to sneak into the women's restroom. Ashamed and insulted, I waited for the plane to Paris.

b) Moscow-Paris

With the joy that I wouldn't meet that woman again, I boarded the plane. The stewards (or as I called them, 'conductors') were true Frenchmen in our understanding: fit, neat, gallant, and very handsome for Frenchmen. I sat with my new acquaintances by the window (by the way, I always got those seats) and we took off. Indeed, when you haven't flown for a long, long time, you forget about that feeling in your ears, your stomach, those 'Lego'-like houses... I only remember running around the plane like a sick person in childhood, that's it. The passenger composition mainly consisted of elderly French people, Russian students, and a couple of vacationers. They didn't feed us to the point of bursting, so to turn into Karlsson on this plane, you would have to fly for 5 years. I will note a very important circumstance. There was 1 restroom. So, half the plane was lining up (mostly French people), chattering, telling stories, and what was most unpleasant, DISCUSSING WHAT IT'S LIKE IN THE RESTROOM!!! I didn't understand, but from my acquaintance's translation and the exclamations of those coming out of the restroom, I guessed they liked it! But it was, frankly, both funny and disgusting. Otherwise, the flight went without incidents, everyone survived, no one threw up, despite my great desire to scare my neighbor.

c) At Charles de Gaulle

The first 2 words that come to mind when you say 'Charles de Gaulle airport' are huge and confusing. Like a mini-mini city. With its own underground passages, metro, shops, and rest areas. It's good that we all stuck together, so there were practically no difficulties. At the counter, I found out about my luggage, that it was waiting for me nearby (but luckily the woman was smart and said she would do everything possible to transfer it to New York), and I met a southerner (that's what I'll call black people to avoid misunderstandings, you could also say 'miners,' but it's better not to). I wanted to ask him where our terminal E2 was, but he wanted to take me somewhere, show me something, but I decided it was better to join our group. We didn't stay there long, at 10:15 there was already a plane, so I didn't form any coherent impression of France. Well, when I go there for a vacation, I'll be able to get to know it better.

d) Paris-New York

We had a 9-hour flight ahead of us. I'll say right away, the food was good: chicken with broccoli and mashed potatoes, various drinks including wine, sandwiches, and so on. Of course, we can't have Americans losing weight! For entertainment, there was a mini-monitor in front of each of us, where you could listen to music, play games, watch movies, and orient yourself on where we were flying. Of course, how could I not take something 'for free': there were no towels, but there were earplugs and an eye mask. Between the plane from New York to Atlanta and my arrival, I had 4 hours, so I was calm (which backfired on me later), although we took off 30 minutes late because I sat with my acquaintances and we lost one of them. Overall, it was interesting, if not for my wisdom tooth starting to grow and my gum hurting, and with it my throat. But nothing, despite all this and the fact that I practically didn't manage to sleep, I felt quite wonderful. Besides, 2 rows away from me was a typical American blonde girl who periodically looked at me and smiled.

There were 4 restrooms (I mention them so often because the French made an indelible impression on me), so there was no 'rush' like in Soviet times for sausage. The first thing that caught my eye in the sky over America was the geometrically correct streets and the presence of a pool in almost every yard. In general, I will periodically speak about America in enthusiastic tones, but this is not because I revere it, but simply because we don't have this. But that's for now. In a couple of years, every person will strive for our country, and it is in our power to make this happen.

e) Transfer JFK-EWR

We were let down. No one met us, and accordingly, no one explained how and where to get to. I needed to go from 1 airport (Kennedy) to another. I decided to take the express train, went up (yes, we didn't really say goodbye to our acquaintances), and thought, who should I ask? I see a big guy standing there. I spoke to him in English, he asks: 'Do you speak Russian?' It turned out he was Azerbaijani, his name is Erik. He advised me to take the bus, as it would be faster. He led me to the southern one, I bought a ticket for $22. Everyone in New York called me Jimmy (looks like from South Park). Why - I don't know, but most likely, it's like a 'guy' to them. The ride was quite long, but no one explained to me that I had to transfer from 1 bus to another. I got out, and there was a guy who was directing people. The first time he showed me, I didn't understand, wandered around, and came back. He told me to wait, and when he directed the next batch, he led me to the road and pointed to the bus. See, people help, people help! Instead of 40 minutes, we drove for 2 hours and 30 minutes for 2 reasons: a) traffic; b) a super-careful driver (yes, in America, service staff are either southerners, Mexicans, or Russian students, there are very few white people), who preferred to let everyone and everything pass rather than go himself (and time was already running out, there was a possibility of being late). Okay, we approach the airport, they start announcing terminals A, B, C. And I don't have it written down which one I need. I see a stewardess coming out, I ask - which one do I need? She says - oh, that's easy, you need to call them. Yeah, right, she helped me a lot. Orienting myself by the signs, I went out to terminal B.

f) In Newark

In America, the structure of airports is different. Here, every airline has its own exit and its own terminals. I found 'Delta,' approached - a bunch of people in economy, but no one in first class. I go there. A southerner asks - Are you first class? I - no. She - then I can't help you. I - well, at least explain to me, help me. She 'stank' a little, but processed everything. Surprisingly, they gave me a boarding pass 10 minutes before departure, and the plane was 30 minutes late, and no one is worried, they are standing calmly. The plane, of course, was, to put it mildly, a wreck. Three seats in a row, I was in the middle, food for an extra charge, a bit dirty (just arrived, immediate departure). But, I closed my eyes there and dozed off until I reached Atlanta.

g) Atlanta

Americans are interesting. On domestic flights, they take ALL their luggage with them. They shove huge shuttle bags wherever they can. I, of course, checked mine, I'm Russian! True, later I regretted not checking it, because you still need to UNDERSTAND where to get the luggage. Reaching the sign 'no return after this point,' I thought, because I still hadn't found my luggage. But I thought that if anything, I'd say, well, I didn't find it. I go out - a ton of people, but thanks to my super t-shirt, Sasha (my wonderful friend, to whom I am VERY grateful, without whom everything would have been MUCH more difficult) found me without difficulty, and we took the luggage (bag) nearby. In general, for my trip to happen, a ton of things had to coincide. Parents, Sasha, his mom, Anton, Yulenka - these are the people who helped and supported me a lot on my trip, without them it's scary to think how I could have done it. Thank you!

Atlanta. The center of the state of Georgia, the birthplace of Coca-Cola, the headquarters of CNN, one of the last states to abolish slavery, Gone with the Wind, a difference of -8 hours from Moscow time. In general, the city is quite provincial and clean, like all cities in America. A huge number of illegal Mexican immigrants and southerners. Metro - 4 lines, 2 run parallel, forming a cross. Few people walk, they measure temperature in Fahrenheit, volumes in gallons, distance in how long to drive, not walk. Cheap products, the main thing is not to convert to rubles, then everything is okay.

Even in Moscow, I had some inner peace. I could walk alone through night Moscow at 2 AM, walk past homeless packs of dogs, be alone in New York, but be internally absolutely calm. Why? Probably because something appeared that gave me confidence. Everything will be fine and everything will work out - this is the main mindset, especially here, in America.