BEYOND THE SEA Nathalie De Los Santos
November 1954. On the tarmac, Vidal admired the silver wings of the plane, the fresh blue and red lines that were painted on the two propellers. Vidal’s mother handed their luggage to a crewman by the plane.
An attendant announced, “Philippine Airlines to New York is boarding now.”
Excitement hit him again. He was only eight and he got to travel overseas! His mother told
him there’d be three stops and that this would take eleven days over the Pacific Ocean and then there was one last flight to New York. When Vidal entered the cabin, he was immediately greeted by a woman with neat golden hair tucked under her cap, wore a red scarf around her neck. Vidal blushed, holding onto his ticket tightly. She looked like the white Madonna statue in his church, the same blue eyes and fair hair. His mother chuckled and shuffled him down the aisle. As his mother buckled him in his seat, Vidal dug into the pocket in the seat in front of him. He pulled out a paper bag.
“What is this for?” Vidal asked.
His mother grinned, “It’s to throw up in.”
He understood as soon as the plane started. The turbines were loud and rocked the plane.
He held onto his mother.
“When we lift off, go aaah…” She opened her mouth, “it’ll help when your ears pop.”
He tried his best to push down the acidic feeling rising in his throat. They served them ham
on some nice blue china with silverware, which he refused. The days across the ocean were the same: a blur of nausea and overnight airport hotels in Hong Kong and South Korea, a flight attendant waking him to buckle his seatbelt. When he woke once, his mother handed him a chocolate bar in a bright red wrapper covered in English words. Soon he’d be in America. Too precious to eat, he put the chocolate into his pocket, not knowing what his own warmth would do to it.
When they landed in Seattle, Vidal didn’t take in the significance of finally being in another
country. He blurted and danced, “I need to pee.”
“Down the hall, Vidal.” His father guided him.
There were two doors for the men. Vidal saw a dark-skinned man enter the door on the left.
Another Black man walked past his father and said hello. His father did not answer. His father quickly checked if his satchel was zipped properly, then he quickly directed them to the bathroom 157
