I come from a country with the world’s best airport, the world’s best airline and many people who consider themselves seasoned travelers. Singapore is a very tiny city-state, and air travel is often necessary, since we are only connected to one other country via a land border. I once considered myself among those seasoned travelers, secretly proud of my ability to anticipate security protocol, whiz through immigration and locate the best eats in any airport. Which is why you can imagine my shock and utter horror when I was stuck at LaGuardia at 5 a.m. one sticky summer morning, listening to the gate agent scream, “AVOID SUMMER TRAVEL”. 

The full story: I had a flight ticket to Brazil via Miami. The tickets were on the pricier side, due to the surge in demand driven by post-pandemic conditions and summer vacation. A 24-hour layover in Miami was slightly less ideal, but manageable and potentially even fun. I was secretly assured that this trip had all the ingredients for success and got a grand total of zero minutes of sleep the night before, in eager anticipation of this vacation.

In the name of sparing you the gory details of this escapade, it would suffice to say that in the span of 12 hours, I was forced to board and de-plane from the original plane twice, spending a total of three hours on the tarmac squeezed in a middle seat. Then, the flight was delayed and finally canceled. No compensation, no extra miles, not so much as a word of sympathy. 

Confusion turned into fatigue after spending a night at the airport. Then all the flights to Miami the next day were canceled, rendering it impossible for me to catch the next leg of the flight, and I was so frustrated that I actually turned delirious. Never in my life did I have to do the things I did: beg, get yelled at, push past angry hordes of passengers clamoring for their turn at the beleaguered agent and sleep on the airport floor. The end to this entire saga was when finally, with the help of a miracle worker, I rebooked the itinerary to go via Dallas. My ticket to Dallas was a standby ticket, and there must have been something like 30 anxious people at the gate waiting on standby too. So you can imagine my shock when my name was one of the only three that were called. I shot everyone apologetic glances and quickly shuffled into the plane, lest they give the seat to someone else. 

And in that moment, when I was about to take my seat on the plane, it dawned on me how this entire situation so perfectly summed up my Yale experience. Like traveling, Yale is meant to be this wonderful experience. Long anticipated, eagerly embraced and endlessly romanticized. But in practice, it’s a truly nasty, brutish world, where often your neighbor is your competition. 

When the pilot announced the deplaning for the second time on that first flight, I remember how people did not hold back from making their annoyance very clear. From the very eloquent expletives to the muttering from those who were going to miss their connecting flights, it struck me in that moment how everyone’s (including my) first instinct was to process how bad this situation was going to be for their individual lives. Not sparing a thought, for instance, at the potential weather risks we avoided. Or for the weary pilots and the stressed ground staff who clearly have no fault in the matter.

At the gate where I boarded the flight to Dallas, I remember feeling deja vu when my name was called and others were not. I desperately wanted to get to my destination, but at what expense? The uncle who might miss his niece’s wedding? The lady who might miss her college reunion? As I shuffled past these people sheepishly, I could feel their eyes on me, a bittersweet mix of jealousy and gladness on my behalf. “Hurry, hurry,” a Belizean man (also on standby) urged, “they might move to the next name.” How many times in Yale have we been forced to watch the successes of others and feel happy, but secretly jealous of them? And how many times have we been that person, shuffling sheepishly past everyone else?

In the face of this dawning reality that the world is much more selfish than we think it is, not all hope is lost. Earlier, I mentioned the miracle worker, the gate agent who rebooked the flight. I remember approaching the counter and feeling the burning hatred of the many people behind me waiting in line. To me, it was thus remarkable that this lady managed to keep her cool. Not only was she unfazed by the agitated line, she took the time to go over our entire itinerary, and check us in on the next leg. When I mentioned to her that I felt bad for holding up the line, she took off her reading glasses, put down her papers and looked me dead straight in the eye. Calmly, she said, “I do not cut corners because there are people in the line. Let them wait. I do a thorough job, because that is only fair to you.” 

You could say that the entire Yale experience is like flying standby. Unfairly difficult, fiercely competitive, and above all, hugely uncertain. To the first-years starting out here, I say, lean into the uncertainty! Expect unexpected change. Be gracious in stressful situations. Step out of a me-centered world and spare a thought for other people. And above all — embrace the adventure. Oh, and — avoid summer travel. 

SHI WEN YEO
Shi Wen Yeo edits the Opinion Desk. She is a Senior in Morse College, majoring in English and Economics. Her column "Through the stained glass" runs every other Tuesday.