San Francisco Airport

San Francisco Airport, September, 1996
The international flight from Taipei to San Francisco was delayed due to unusual turbulences. I urged Chin-ting, age 5, and Jen-ting, 3, to quickly put their bags on their backs. The bags were as big as their bodies, and the weight almost made them fall backward. I also slipped on my backpack, so my two hands could carry my children’s hands.
I found the luggage pickup area, and saw a big crowd was waiting around the turntable. “Look very closely,” I told my children, “remember the colors of our suitcases? A huge blue one, a big brown one, and a smaller pleaded one, with tiny red ribbons on them. When you see them, let mom know.” They nodded quietly, and chin-ting repeated, “ A huge blue one, a bog brown one..hey, Jen-ting,” he turned to his little sister, “Help me to watch for the smaller pleaded one, the pretty one…” Jen-ting liked the idea of watching for the pretty bag, so she agreed.
“Mom, I saw the pretty one!” after few turns, the turntable brought us our first bag. I picked it up, and Jen-ting patted the bag as she was patting the head of Lucky, our family dog who we had to leave behind in Taiwan. “Mom, I see the huge blue one, let me pick up!” “No, it’s too heavy for you.” “I can do it, Mom. See, I am strong.” Chin-ting managed to haul the bag from the turntable, with the help of a kind gentleman. Now there was one more. We waited and waited and waited for about ten minutes. The crowd around the turntable shrank and people left one by one with their luggage, but our big brown bag never came. “Mom, do you think someone took our big brown suitcase?” Tim inquired worriedly. “No! I put the tea set grandmother gave me in the brown suitcase! No! I don’t want them to take my tea set!” Jen-ting cried on hearing what Chin-ting said.
“No one will take our suitcase,” I tried to comfort both my children, but I really had no idea what to do. When I spotted a flight attendance at the corner, I ran to her, and asked, “I cannot see my luggage. What can I do?” This was the first English I spoke in this new country. The attendance looked at me and my little children. He picked up the two suitcases, led us to a counter, and told the woman at the counter something. Of course I did not know what he was saying, but I was alert enough to fish up the receipts of my luggage check-in, and the woman at the counter handed me a form. I asked her, “Write it?” “Yes, fill out….” I was glad I understood what “fill” meant, so I wrote down my name, the new address in Norfolk, Virginia, where my husband had lived for three months. The woman told me, along with gestures, that the missing suitcase will be delivered to the address when they found it. I was not sure if I understood what she said, so I asked her, “Will you send it to here?” “No, someone in Norfolk will.” “Can I go now?” “Yes, you may.”
We left the counter without the brown suitcase. Jen-ting had stopped crying because of this encounter with the flight attendance and the counter person, but her tears were still streaming down her tiny cheeks. I knew she was still worried about the tea set, and I was too. This token of my mother’s love to us would meant a lot to us in this new country. I hugged Jen-ting and gently assured her that the suitcase would be delivered to our new home where Baba is, and the tea set would be fine.
“What is next?” I asked myself, reviewing the procedure my husband told me in his aerogramme. “Oh yeah, pass the customs.” I checked my purse and made sure our passports were in the secure compartment. I found the sign of direction toward the customs, and told Chin-ting and Jen-ting, “Now Mon cannot hold your hands. You should take care of yourselves. Follow Mom very closely. Walk fast.” I tried to use my spared hands to pick up the two suitcases. They were too heavy! I was surprised many suitcases other passengers were carrying had wheels under them. Mine didn’t. Then I saw an array of carts at one end of the hall. I told my children, “Wait here for me. Don’t move. Mom will go pick up a cart to carry our suitcases.” They nodded quietly. I found Chin-ting was holding her sister’s hand tightly.
As I was trying to pull out a cart, I found the carts were attached to each other with chains. I also saw a sign “Be Smart Rent a Cart“ and a $1 sign went with it. I did have US dollars with me, but they were crisp twenty dollar bills fresh out of the Bank of Taiwan my father carefully brought home the night before. How can I break the bill? I looked around. People were hurriedly passing me, I didn’t even know how to say this in English? I need a dollar?
Frustrated, I went back to my children. I told them,” Now Mom have to carry these suitcase with my hands, but I think I can do it. Chin-ting, can you help make sure Mei-Mei is OK?” Tim came up with a better idea. “Mom, you will carry the huge blue one. I can carry this small one. I am strong.” As I was considering how possible we could handle this, Jen-ting had picked up one of the two handles of the pretty pleaded suitcase, indeed, it was a large duffle bag, the name I learned much later.
We inched to the immigration check points and customs. There were several long lines. Again I reviewed my husband’s instruction in the aerogramme, and found the lines for non-US Citizens. The immigration officer was very kind to us, which was a great release to me, because I was warned that some non-citizens or visitors without green cards were sent back to where they came from via the same airplane they took to this country. The person at the customs who checked our luggage didn’t even open our suitcases. I was happy that he trusted that I did not bring in anything illegal, although I did “smuggle” some Chinese herb my mother insisted I take with me in case of sickness. “It is very expensive to see doctors in America. The herb is not drug.” She assured me when she carefully tug the little sack into my blue suitcase the night before we left her.
Finally we completed the procedures. Then we had to transfer from international terminal to the domestic flight to Chicago. The shuttle took us to another building where UA 326 was. I went to the counter to checked in the two pieces of luggage. The attendance looked at my ticket and asked me suspiciously, “Are you sure you are taking the 9:15 flight?” “Yes of course.” “Do you know what time is it now?”