I have a special talent for making short stories long. Therefore, I will begin this story much earlier then it needs to begin. Annie, my wife, and I went to Armenia together earlier this year in May. Our goal was to explore the possibility to moving there for a period of time so that I could continue my training for the priesthood. Upon returning to the United States we decided that this option would be good for both of us and began making preparations.

Preparing for Departure

In June we purchased our tickets going through Moscow using Aeroflot. Like a good boy I wrote the departure date and time in my Google Calendar. We then began the process of saying Goodbye to all of our family and friends. This was perhaps the most time consuming part of preparing for our departure, but it was also wonderful.

In July we learned some good news that would be changing our plans slightly. The firm that Annie works for, Brantner Design, got a great opportunity to design the interior of a large home in Montecito. The contract was big enough that they were willing to fly Annie back-and-forth from Armenia at least once or twice between now and Thanksgiving, when the project is supposed to be finished. So we would be departing together, then after we were settled and my classes began she would return to the States.

The Failure

The days prior to our departure were hectic with shopping, clearing out our living spaces, making last-minute visitations, and a thousand other small matters. The day before our friend Tammy and Annie’s brother Dan came down to help us pack, and David came all the way up from San Diego to do the same. The last day was filled with activities, but our flight was to depart at 11pm, so it wasn’t that frenetic. A very impromptu gathering came together at my mother’s house where we stopped on the way to the airport. Friends and family had all come together to wish us well in our journey. We got pizza from Lomeli’s, and had a great time.

As we departed for the Airport, a few of our friends decided to come see us off from the International Terminal. In the car on the way over, I began to feel very sad, and some what regretful about leaving. It was due in part to some trepidation I was feeling about making the move, and having to overcome that challenges that would face me in Armenia. I knew I would also really miss Stefanie and my mom, and I felt like I was abandoning them.

We arrived at the airport, and after some significant effort we managed to get our bags from the cars to the terminal. We then started walking around attempting to find the Aeroflot desk. One problem: it wasn’t findable.

The check-in desks at the Bradley Terminal of LAX are not stationary, and rotate position depending on availability, so its not odd to find yourself scouring for the right place, but we did all the scouring we could without results. We were pulling airport employees aside asking them where Aeroflot was. Most weren’t helpful, others said things like “Aeroflot usually doesn’t fly this late, check your itinerary.”

I was quite convinced these people were wrong, but we hadn’t actually printed a copy of the itinerary to confirm it (warning sign). So we pulled it up on my phone. Slowly the Itinerary loaded on my screen. The obvious was made obviouser. The flight was scheduled to leave at 6:55pm. We arrived to the airport at around 8pm. Without going into more detail, I went through the following emotions: denial, confusion, rage, embarrassment, delusion, and then greater embarrassment.

What followed was a slew of smartphone usage by myself, David, Arsen, and Charlie to find phone numbers to call, next available flights, and airline policies . With all of the relevant offices closed or unreachable we decided to head home.

The ride home was a tough one for me. I had been emotionally psyching myself up to do something I was increasingly feeling nervous about, then I was shocked by missing the flight, and ultimately I saw the love and support of all our family and friends. I was very upset. When we got home we picked up where we left off. We all had many Martinis, and stayed up late laughing and joking. It was a fitting end for such an intense day.

This happens all the time, right?

Ultimately, missing a flight isn’t the end of the world. We walked away from the debacle, convinced that we would find a couple open seats on the next flight out, and Aeroflot would transfer tickets. In the days that followed we did whatever we could to resolve the issue.

The day after we missed the flight, we called ever number we could find for Aeroflot. The only number that would connect us with a human being was in Russia, and the operators only spoke Russian. We got a hold of our travel agent, but their response was not positive. They didn’t encourage us to dare to hope that Aeroflot would be amenable. Later on that day we went to LAX hoping that we might be able to speak with someone there. We did, and they did not help. They told us we were designated as “No Shows,” and the value of the ticket would be forfeited. We left dismade.

The next day, which was Sunday, was The Feast of the Assumption of Mother Mary, so I went to church. This was an excercise in humility, as every member of church was shocked to me, and I would have to retell our not-so-heroing story. The week before an announcement had been made that Annie and I were leaving for Armenia, and the congregation had been asked to pray for our safety and success. This was also a tough day because it was the day we were supposed to arrive in Armenia. One of Annie’s cousins was getting married, and we were expected to attend. They were very disappointed that we wouldn’t be there.

Monday was the day we had been waiting for. On Monday morning the Aeroflot Office in LA would open and we go there and tell them our story, and they would have mercy on us, and we’d find ourselves on the next flight to Moscow. This is what we hoped. Let me sum up our experience with Aeroflot with the following sentiment: Never expect mercy from Aeroflot. The icy cold attitude of Ivan Drago is alive and well in the buearacray of Aeroflot. They turned us away, Annie in tears, and confronted the reality of the situation. We had to repurchase our tickets.

This time though we would only purchase one ticket. Annie was already planning to return to LA within a few weeks of our departure. Our delay and the expense made it clear: Annie wouldn’t be leaving with me.

Of course this, again, would not be the end of the world. We both realized that this would mean that we would be apart for an additional couple weeks, but the affect was potent. This trip is an adventure that we were looking forward to sharing and experiancing together. I was forelorn that I would start this adventure alone, and I knew Annie felt the same way.

Thanks to some quick work by our travel agents, we found a flight departing on Thursday with a decent fare. Annie and I spent the next couple days enjoying eachother’s company.

The Actual Departure

Thursday came quickly, and we started the day early. My bags had been repacked, and thanks to Annie’s space optimizing skills, they were filled to the brim. Mom, Annie, and myself set off the airport with plenty of time to spare. After some time, we checked in, and I was ready to brave my way through one of the longest security lines I’ve every seen.

I’ve never really left home before. Though I like to think that I’m a travelled person, I’m almost 30 years-old and the longest I ever been away from my hometown is four weeks. Some summer camps last longer than that. My heart was heavy as I said goodbye to my mother. I knew I would miss her a great deal, but she has always been very supportive of my vocation, and on this occasion she was no different. Lovingly, but acceptingly she said goodbye.

Saying goodbye to Annie was very difficult. I’ll just say that.

As I walked through the terminal, and sat at the gate, I was overcome with a feeling that I was experiencing something unreal. If not unreal, then unnatural. It was ludicrous that I should be doing this without Annie. Natural or not, the next thing I knew I was on the plane, and we were taking off . As we rose in the sky, and we passed the smog-o-sphere, I realized something important: I love my life.

I love my family, my friends, my city, and my work. This is why my vocation is my dream. That I am so blessed is that much more reason for me to glorify God. In order for me to follow my dreams I’ve got to leave those things for a little while. God willing during that time, I’ll grow in knowledge and spiritually and I’ll be ready to serve.

As I’m getting ready to move to Armenia, I’m increasingly feeling as though I need to get rid of all the baggage that I’ve been dragging around from place to place over the years. like most, I’ve got tons of clothes that I haven’t worn in years, nic-nacs of dubious sentimental value, many books which I haven’t looked at in years, and lastly, files and files of documents.

So my purging process went as follows:

1. Bag up any clothes you haven’t worn in 9 months, and give it away. (tuxedos are an acceptable exception)
2. Prioritize nic-nacs in terms of sentimental value. If it takes you any amount of time to remember where you got the item from, it should be purged.
3. Books. If I haven’t read or refferd to it in 6 months, its out. I’m in a phase were book ownership is very unappealing to me. Having moved about 3.5 times in the past 4 years, my books have become a burden. If I can by a book digitally in the future, that’ll be the preferred way. Of course not all books are digital, so if they’re necessary I’ll just have to live them.
4. Any files that haven’t been used, referenced in at least one year (that aren’t tax documents or vital records), also must be gotten rid of. Aside from my office files, I have a ton of personal files that I’ve kept. Files from my previous and current jobs, bills, and random documents.
   1. Scan what you need.
   2. Burn documents with sensitive info.
   3. Recycle the rest.