The Black Pen – Matias Travieso-Diaz

The physical inspection was a humiliating full body exam to make sure we were not trying to smuggle jewelry or other valuables in our bodies. My mother wept from embarrassment. I could see from my father’s clenched fists that he was at the verge of exploding and ruining our chances of escape. Luckily, he was able to control himself.

The next step was to move to the departure lounge (colloquially dubbed the “fish bowl”), a glass enclosed cubicle next to the tarmac where a solitary Pan Am propeller plane sat. All the prospective travelers sat in full view of the plane while, outside the fish bowl, friends and relatives of the soon to depart passengers carried conversations among themselves and, by gestures, with their loved ones who they might never see again. There was profuse crying on both sides of the walls.

I was oblivious to the tumult around me. The threat of the Cuban official still resonated in my ears; I expected to be dragged out at any minute and be separated from my parents, perhaps forever.

They began calling the departing families, one by one, and after a last look at each voyager’s papers, they were escorted through the side door of the lounge and on the pavement for the walk to the plane. A Swiss official stood at the plane’s stairway and shook the hands of each one as they mounted the final steps towards freedom.

The families were called in alphabetical order and, since we were near the end, I shook uncontrollably, wishing for the first time in my life that my surname had been Aguilar or Alvarez. But nobody came to arrest me. My guess is that either the Cuban official gave up on his quest or was countermanded by his superiors, for nobody dared risk antagonizing the Swiss diplomats.

We boarded the plane, were seated, and were greeted by a pretty stewardess in Pan Am uniform with a Red Cross armband as an insignia. She quickly distributed ham and cheese mini sandwiches, cups of Coke, and small packs of Chesterfield cigarettes. She apologized in heavily accented Spanish: “Today’s flight will be short. We will land in Miami in about thirty minutes after takeoff. Please enjoy your flight and welcome to the United States.”

I sank into my seat and closed my eyes as the engines were started and the plane slid on the strip and after a few seconds climbed onto the skies. I missed my chance to take a last look at the country of my birth. At the moment, I did not feel sorry for the loss. Now I do.

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