As soon as I stepped foot in the Buffalo airport (on my way to start my three-week first journey alone) vacation to London and France to visit family and friends, something extraordinary happened: everything went wrong.

The original plan went like this: My first plane (Delta airlines) would leave Buffalo (June at 5:56 p.m. and arrive in New York City at 7:20 p.m. My second plane would leave at 8:30 p.m. and arrive in London (June 9) around 9 a.m. (London time). My friend Ndiwa would pick me up at the Tube (subway) station around 11 a.m. and I would stay with him (to save money).

Two days later, (June 11), I would take a train from London at 10:30 a.m. and arrive in Paris at 12:45 p.m. (Paris time). And finally, I would take a train from Paris at 4:49 p.m. and arrive in Metz (Alscase-Lorraine part of France) at 5:30 p.m. where my Tante (aunt) Therese, Oncle (uncle) Gerard et cousine (cousin) Meghann pick me up.

Simple.

What actually happened: My first plane took off late because it broke mid-air (that itself was stressful). Therefore, I missed my second plane in New York. Delta representatives explained that they could not book me another flight until 6 p.m. the following day, and that because a broken plane “was not Delta’s fault,” they would not pay for a hotel.

Sleep-deprived (due to my “traveling-jitters” the evening before) and agitated because of the lack of assistance, I found another Delta representative – a British/French/Zambian woman – and let out my exasperation using a few “choice words.” She remained calm and typed on her computer. A few minutes later she said that she got me a flight to London via Air France; that I would leave for London in 20 minutes.

“Breathe, mademoiselle,” she said. “And next time, try a little courtesy. Things happen. Oui?”

I thanked her and got on my plane (which actually flew to Atlanta, Paris and then, London).

(To add to my already-brewing stress level, I was told that my baggage had been “momentarily misplaced” due to the flight carrier change).

By this point, I was several hours late meeting Ndiwa and had tried calling his cell phone multiple times.

After the 10th call to him, I decided to go to him. I went to London last summer, and so I had confidence that I could not get lost. But as soon as I left the airport, I discovered there was a citywide tube strike. And so, I had to navigate by foot and a foreign (to me) bus system.

For three hours – alone; more sleep-deprived; sans (without) baggage; and of course, in the London rain – I wandered London. The whole time I pay-phoned my friend’s cell, which sent me straight to voicemail.

Totally hopeless, I stumbled into a sports shop and asked the owner to phone a taxi (that would drive me to a hotel).

“Sure. But let me say: it’s going to cost you at least 80 pounds (roughly $145). There’s no hotels in the area,” the man said. A 3- to 5-year-old girl (his daughter) walked up to him. “I’m actually leaving to drive her home. I could drive you to a hotel if you need.”

As we drove, we came across an Internet cafe (like a normal cafe, only supplied with computers with Internet access). Not wanting to spend more money for a hotel room, I went inside with hopes that my friend had tried contacting me via e-mail. The sports shop owner and daughter waited outside, “just in case.”

A frantic e-mail waited in my inbox from Ndiwa explaining he had lost his phone. Because my phone was not an international one, he could not call mine. He left our mutual friend Mert’s number. “All’s well then,” the sports shop owner said. “Bye bye Sarah,” his daughter chimed in.

The following day Ndiwa and I bought an international phone (they’re only 20 pounds here) in case of another emergency.

On Thursday, I got up extra early so that I’d have plenty of time to make my train to France. When I went to purchase a tube pass with my debit card, it was denied. So was my credit.

“Because no traveling notifications were made,” (which actually were but never passed along to my bank’s security department), I would later be told, my bank put a hold on all my accounts; they thought someone had stolen my account information.

Luckily, I had a few pounds left on me to buy a ticket. Because of the tube strike (there were only a few lines running), the busses and tubes were packed with people. This made our journey to the train station crowded, thus slow.

Subsequently, I missed my first train. All seemed well when a EuroRail representative rescheduled another train. It wasn’t until I was 20 minutes from arriving to Paris that I realized that my second train was located at a different station in the city; that I only had 10 minutes to run from one station (Gare du nord) to the other (Gare du l’est). They are approximately one kilometer away from another (a.k.a. it was an impossible distance to run with baggage).

Here I was on a train to Paris alone, with no money or telephone and in a foreign country in which I have limited knowledge of the language.

I officially hit panic and could no longer control the past two days worth of stress from brewing over my eyelids.

“Is there a problem,” asked the 30-something-year-old French woman who was sitting next to me.

I reiterated my (entire traveling) situation.

“Pauvre fille. Here,” she said handing me 20 euro (about $40) and her personal card. “This will get you taxi so you will make your other train.” She went on to say that if I missed the train, that I should call her cell phone (the number was on her card) and she would help me contact my family.

I refused repeatedly. “You pay me back when you find your family. Bien?”

I told her I would pay her back as soon as I arrived to my family’s house. “Merci,” I replied. I wish I knew the English or French words for how I really felt.

The taxi got me to the second train on time. I could not stop smiling when I was kissing my family’s cheeks.

Someone once said: “Life happens while you’re making plans.”

I have felt more fear and excitement, unawareness and over-awareness, confidence and uncertainty in the last four days than I have in the past year. I feel that I have lived more also.

Originally Published Sunday, June 13, 2009