A couple of hours past, but I was one of the first to get checked in for my 6 AM flight to Minneapolis. Funny, in my earlier days that coming to this airport was always about getting to have fun in Orange County, going to Disneyland, visiting the Blizzard campus before I transitioned full time in office. This airport, despite its dead drop and stop runaway, was always something to be excited about, now its my final moments in what was my home for the last two and a half years. My first moment of anxiety, having to hand over my passport and plane ticket to the TSA officers who have been unpaid for weeks, and unpack my extremely crammed backpack of the new gaming laptop and few electronics I still possessed. If there was any moment for things to wrong, now was the time.
I knew I was able to successfully use my passport at a TSA checkpoint last August when I flew to Chicago to get my visa paperwork processed, but I grew more worried every passing week since. With the supreme court ruling allowing the state department to reject gender changes on passports, a part of me worried if my Biden-era document would stay valid. It should based on everything that was confirmed in the news, but nothing has been normal since the start of this damned administration and it was public knowledge that I was leaving the US.
Thankfully though, I was cleared and scrambled to stuff my belongings back into my bag. Then with still an hour to spare, I got a breakfast sandwich at the airport Carls Jr. one last time. I remember each moment of each fast food restaurant and food truck I ate at the days prior. My last Caniac basket at Raising Canes, my last Cheezy Gordita Crunch at Taco Bell, my last bowl of Hot Pot at a tiny food stall that I loved on Jamboree street. I knew I was never going to eat food like this again, so I was desperate to enjoy every moment I could. Soon enough the time had come and I wandered over to my gate, looking at the arched hallway that made up the terminals in John Wayne and found my first plane waiting.
Moments passed, I recorded my last TikTok in California, and soon enough the time to board the plane finally came. Nothing was going wrong despite the fact I was so afraid something would. I took a deep breath as I scanned in my boarding pass from my phone and walked onto the jetway. It was then I realized this was actually happening, and there was no longer any chance to turn back. The feelings of emotion overwhelmed me and tears were starting to appear. I worked my way to my seat which was in the far back of the plane, thankfully a window seat, and stuffed my heavy carry-on in the bins and my backpack under the seat in front. I sat down and buckled up and in my gray Blizzard Pride branded hoodie, I was wrapping my arms within as I looked out to the window, seeing the gray, cloudy morning light come through.
Soon the cabin hatch was shut and the attendants were doing their safety demonstration timed to a really corny safety video from Delta, and it was in that moment that I felt another moment of shock. The plane began to move. My face was glued to that window but all I could really see was the other gates of John Wayne and the shipping building on the other side. Once the airplane reached the runaway, I could feel the engines ramp up and soon enough a burst of acceleration took over. Take offs and landings at John Wayne are always a trip, but this felt heart-wrenching as I was leaving home from the last time. It was in that moment the plane was airborne and as I tried to get one last look of my home, the plane instantly slipped into the clouds above.
Not even given a chance to look back, at the Blizzard campus, at Lake Forest where I first lived when I moved, not even the Los Angeles skyline, the clouds took it all away. I couldn’t hold it back anymore and I started to cry and I buried my face into my hoodie and neck pillow. By the time we finally cleared the sea of clouds we were already in Nevada, and I looked down to see the miles of endless rocky dessert. The fatigue of staying up all night from packing finally caught up with me and was able to get a couple of hours of sleep. Awaking up to still find myself in the air, looking down I see a long forgotten sight, plots of farmland intermingled with patches of brown, gold, and red colors of forest. I knew we were in the Midwest. I had bad memories living in this part of the country in my past, and just wanted to get on my next plane.
The time waiting at Minneapolis St. Paul wasn’t terrible and if I wasn’t crying the whole time I wanted to explore the airport some more since it was technically my first, and likely only time, I would ever be in that state. Today, I look back and wonder if the timing could not be any more impeccable considering the city being ravaged by the ongoing ICE raids. Little did I realize that things in America was about to get a lot worse for everyone. I just knew it was bad for me being trans. Giving up everything I had worked for in the last three years to get to where I was in my career and in my life. I really do wonder if I got out in time.
I found a food court between my gates, and decided ironically the last thing I should ever eat in the states would be a burger. It wasn’t just a fast food burger, but something that was made to order, and honestly it was too good. What was food going to be like when I arrive in Norway? Was everything going to be bland? Was I going to be stuck eating salmon five days a week? Thankfully those worries were baseless as I love the food here in Norway (and the burgers here are awesome), but it was that experience that felt like everything I knew was about to change forever.
Some time passed, and soon my flight for Amsterdam was soon ready for boarding. Thank goodness I had some amount of energy in me as I realized I was at the wrong gate for another flight, on the same airline for that matter, leaving for Amsterdam but 90 minutes later. Thankfully my gate was two doors down. I found a restroom one last time. Afterward I was pulling by heavy carry on behind, feeling exhausted.
It was then it hit me, I was about to travel to another continent. The only other country I technically had visited was Canada when I was two, but I really don’t remember it and the farthest I ever traveled from the US mainland was Hawaii about two decades ago. Things were about to change for me for real, I was leaving the United States, but more importantly I realized there is a good chance that I may never return. I remember reading the Pam Bondi memo and knew the risks were growing that the US government was going to start to profiling and identifying “transgender extremists.” Would I be considered to be part of that list knowing I was making a very public and very vocal departure from the only country I ever known. Was I making the right decision? It didn’t matter, my boarding group was called and sure enough it was my turn to board the plane.
The second test was here, handing over my passport to the gate attendant to scan out of the country. If there was ever a moment for things to go wrong it should be here, but thankfully nothing did. I was then walking on the jetway, and I could feel the wispy cold air flowing around knowing, my last few breaths of the United States was being taken. Right at the door as I waited for the person ahead of me to board, I squinted through the crack between the jetway and the plane’s fuselage and all I could see was tarmac and runways. It was okay, I think I have seen enough and was ready to get on board. The Boeing 747 that would take me to Amsterdam was the largest plane I ever been on, I sadly couldn’t find a window seat, so I took an aisle seat on the inside row of the economy seats. It was an awkward seat, as it was just on the bend between the aisle of the galley and the main aisle so I was getting bumped into a lot, but honestly I didn’t mind. I couldn’t even think about that.
Soon the plane began to move, the safety videos playing again, and I realized. This is it, there is no turning back whatsoever. I took a deep breath and tried to focus my gaze looking out the window across from me. The approach to the runway felt like an eternity, and I wondered if I was truly going to escape the US. Needless to say there was just a long queue of departures, but it still the wait felt overwhelming. Then I felt the needed motion, the turn, it was our turn, and out the window I could see the terminal one last time, and then the roar of the engines began to push the plane forward.
The moment I was airborne on this second flight, I didn’t cry, I smiled. I did it. I got out. I leaned back snuggled into my hoodie and tried to get to sleep but my senses were too wired at this point. I was leaving the United States. Within a couple of hours, the first achievement came to pass, we flew over the Canadian border, I was no longer in the country’s airspace. Then a few hours later, the next moment came. We were in open ocean on our course flying over the small string of islands that connected between New Brunswick to England. Hours passed and I still couldn’t find any real amount of sleep. I tried watching the free movies but nothing felt right. I kept my seat-back TV tuned to the flight tracker and just listened to Lofi Girl on my phone.
Ironic, I always tuned to lofi music when I was earning through Uber rideshares that tore apart my soul in the last 14 months. It was the music I used to keep both guests and myself calm, but it has since become my favorite kind of music. Sure I listen to some dance music, rock, metal, and others, especially with friends, but when I am alone, it’s lofi. I don’t think that is ever changing now and maybe its just part of my recovery from the trauma I dealt with in the years prior.
Hours passed, and soon the local time was showing it to be 5 AM and sure enough we were flying over England, a small breakfast was handed out to everyone. I had no idea what I ate to be honest, but I could then feel the movement that I long awaited for, the feeling of descent. It was still dark as we started to cross the channel, and it felt like we descended for ages, but before I realized it, we immediately landed on the runway at Schiphol. I couldn’t help but cry, because I realized I made it. I was in Europe for the first time in my life. I laid back in my seat and little did I realize I fell asleep a bit because I was soon woken up by the Indian gentleman who sat next to me who gently nudged me to let me know we docked at the gate and the flurry of passengers were scrambling to get their carry-ons from the overhead.
I was in no hurry so I was allowed to tuck myself into the galley for a bit until the passengers in my row vacated and I sat back down for a small while. The attendants who were kind enough to let me take my time deplaning learned the short version of my story, and they told me, I was not the first to leave for the reason I did. The fact that they encountered others told me I was not among the first, nor among the few. Others are literally escaping the United States for their lives.
Schiphol felt like an elaborate temple, and honestly I had no idea where to go at first. I first of course found a restroom and was amazed on the immediate difference between the women’s room here and your everyday American airport bathroom. The stalls were clean of course, but the doors went all the way down and were actually doors. Each stall was spacious allowing me to hold my things inside with ease. The sinks and counters had ample 220 volt European sockets, and I chuckled a bit as I pretty well threw away, sold, or donated everything from my gaming tower to my hair dryer, knowing I was going to have to start over. Only my new gaming laptop and my Nintendo switch was with me and I knew I just had to find new power cables for each.
As I explored, I could see sleeping pods and honestly, I so wanted to crawl into one, but alas, my next flight was within a few hours and I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I worked my way to my next gate and of course, passport control. The line for non-Europeans was surprisingly long but amazingly it worked through quickly and easily. Soon my turn came and the final moment of truth was ahead of me and I was greeted by a young man who thankfully spoke perfect English. The questions were pretty standard and expected, and then he saw my Blizzard pride hoodie and he asked and I told him yes, I did work for Blizzard. Turned out he was a World of Warcraft fan, and he said he was amazed I would give up such as job, and honestly I was at the point where hiding anything could be at risk so I told him that I am starting my new job to just start a new life away from the United States.
It was in that moment, he stamped my passport and handed it back to me and welcomed me into the Netherlands. I walked pass and soon realized I finally did it. Nothing remained that could possibly send me back. I couldn’t linger but as soon as I entered the new wing of the airport, and found some open seating, I sat back down and cried again. I picked up some dutch chocolate candy and found a cafe to get a coffee, my next flight was in an hour, and I was anything but tired. Sure enough my journey was nearly complete.
There is something weird about knowing you left your home country for good, especially when that home country is the United States of America. A few years ago, I would have never believed I would be leaving the US to live in Europe, now I can’t imagine what life would be like if I was still in that troubled democracy. Trans persons are getting targeted and while I was not the most frontfacing person, I was a public figure being a community manager for a video game from a top AAA studio. I endured with hate attacks online and threatening moments of sexual assault on rideshares and while I had my team and friends back in the states and loved them like family, I knew I could not endure anymore. I could not risk staying there any longer.
So it was after a gate change, and boarding a small Airbus jet, I was finally on my last leg of my journey to Norway. I couldn’t help but smile the rest of the time. I truly wondered what it would be like to land in what was to become my new home country, but that will be a story for another time. (^^)v
