Seven states, six airports, three sleepless nights, two canceled flights, and a dead phone were not how I expected my weekend to go... However, what kept me going was knowing I’d have a good story to tell.

My first-ever solo trip started exciting as I hopped off the Groome shuttle at Hartsfield-Jackson Thursday night. I found my gate, ate some Auntie-Anne's pretzels, and found the rainforest tunnel all without a wrench in my plan. However, things were soon to change. Walking to my gate at 9 P.M., excited to board my first flight on my way to Oregon on a last-minute deal, I was hit with the notification no one wants to see at the airport: FLIGHT CANCELED.

After several hours of frantic calls, sprinting across the airport, and long lines, I found myself considering calling it quits. However, I was the lucky guest who snagged the last spot in line before the desk shut down for the night. I managed to book a new flight to Oregon with a quick layover in San Francisco that was set to take off… the following morning.

Now stranded in Atlanta, I spent the next hour or so wandering around gate after gate, searching for a snack and a cozy corner to set up for the night. Finally, I spotted the last open restaurant in the airport, McDonald’s. I later unsuccessfully attempted to get 3 hours of sleep before finding my new departure gate. My fingers were crossed the entire time that this gate would exist. Back on the ground in a new corner of the airport, I am nearly 12 hours in. I (impatiently) waited for my flight to board, praying it wouldn’t get canceled again and watching as the airport slowly woke up around me. As I stepped foot on my first flight, I realized I had a whole row to myself. Therefore, my cross-country flight included nothing but sleep and the occasional peek out the window at the changing scenery.

Landing in San Francisco, I was getting ready to make my connecting flight to Portland. However, I had to stifle a gasp as I checked my email from Frontier, apologizing about my Oregon flight being canceled. At this point, I can’t help but laugh. After weighing my options with the Frontier desk agent, I booked a flight to Oregon for the next morning. This left me with a full day in San Francisco to explore.

I decided to make the best of the bad situation and made my way to the BART, San Francisco’s subway system, and was navigating the city alone. I had just hopped onto the train and realized I hadn’t the slightest clue where I was going. “What even is in San Francisco?” I wondered to myself, not knowing much besides the Golden Gate Bridge. Therefore, I decided to go with the flow and see where the day would take me during the 12 hours I had to explore the city before returning to the airport.

Seeing most of the other passengers leave the BART at one stop, I decided to follow them and made my way up the escalator with my trusty backpack. I looked to my right and saw a cable car boarding passengers and I decided to hop on. Proud of myself for picking such an iconic first stop, completely by accident, I sat on the cable car as we traveled up the steep San Francisco hills. We passed by rows of iconic houses and the famous Chinatown, all of which I giddily captured photos of just in time for my phone to die.

A dead phone is a 21st-century solo traveler’s worst nightmare. Not only could I no longer take photos, but I had no map and no Google. Therefore, the next two hours of exploring I was completely lost and alone, hoping to find my way to Fisherman’s Wharf. Hoping there would be tourist shops offering portable chargers, I popped my head into several sketchy convenience stores that had me nothing. I eventually found the Wharf after taking unhelpful directions from strangers, taking the bus in the wrong direction, dead-end roads, and 3.2 miles of walking. It took four tries to find a shop that sold chargers. Once my phone was working again, I had directions, could take photos, and most importantly, assured my mom that I hadn’t been lost in the streets of San Francisco.

Fisherman’s Wharf sent me another blessing that morning as I stumbled into an In-N-Out. I suddenly realized how starving I was and this West Coast staple would be the perfect cure for it. It was then that I started to realize the joys of solo traveling because I could do whatever I wanted! I’m used to following the itinerary of my friends or family but now I have the opportunity to indulge whatever ideas crossed my mind. I sat on the ground outside the In-N-Out and enjoyed a Double-Double burger and Animal Style fries as I watched other Californian tourists pass me by. I strolled along the rows of shops, getting gifts for my family and some San Fran merch for myself. I retraced my steps back to a small park and sat on the grass enjoying the warm, cloudless day with a view of the bay, Alcatraz Island, and the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance, resting my feet from a day already full of walking and humbling myself as I attempted to take self-timer pictures.

With such a good view of the famous bridge, I decided to have another “first” of my solo trip and took my first taxi ride. I made my way along the San Francisco Bay, passing hordes of runners, bikers, and self-driving cars. Dropped off in the visitor parking lot, I made my way to one of the world’s most scenic coffee shops. I got myself a refreshing raspberry lemonade to drink as I checked an item off my bucket list and walked (a third of the way) across the Golden Gate Bridge on a random Friday afternoon. I took in the stunning views of the San Francisco skyline in the distance and offered to take some photos for some happy families as we all walked along one of the world's most iconic bridges.

Satisfied with my visit and still having hours left before heading back to the airport, I ended my whirlwind tour with a visit to the renowned “Painted Ladies” houses. I had to take two separate buses in a city full of buses and a bus system that makes no sense. But I’ve quickly learned that I am not nearly as directionally challenged as my sisters and successfully found my way to the picture-perfect park. I took a moment to rest in the grass and enjoyed the music of a guitar playing in the distance and pretended like I was a local having a solo picnic. Unfortunately, I had to head back to the airport as my adventure still had several legs to go.

That night I boarded a midnight flight, not to Portland, Oregon, but to Denver, Colorado. After two and a half hours of sleep, I frantically sped across the Denver International Airport to (finally) board my flight to Portland 30 minutes later. Finally, I landed in Oregon, but now time was of the essence. My whole reason for traveling to Portland was for a stop on my way to Seattle, and following my canceled flights I had to rebook my train tickets. Also, my flight home from Seattle was still booked, leaving me with only forty-five minutes between landing and boarding my train at the Portland train station. Finding myself in my third airport of the weekend, I shamelessly ran across the airport following tiny signs toward ground transportation, and caught a taxi to the train station for my short stay in Oregon.

I enjoyed the view of Pacific Northwest trees and had just enough time in the train station to get myself a sandwich and a Portland sticker for my laptop before boarding my train to Washington. I only had a couple of hours there before I had to find my way to the Seattle airport for my return home. The train was just the relaxing ride I had hoped for, though I accidentally found myself sitting in a seat facing backwards. I didn’t let that stop me, as I gazed out the window feeling like the main character as I watched Oregon transition into Washington. I was struck by how warm and sunny Washington was as I hopped off the train ready for a whirlwind tour of the city as my flight was scheduled to leave five hours after my train arrived. During my train ride, I had finalized the two highlights I needed to see in Seattle – the Space Needle and Pike Place Market.

I had initially planned to spend the night in Seattle, but for obvious reasons that did not happen, and my plans to walk to the Space Needle from my hotel fell through. After arriving in Seattle I headed to the city’s most iconic landmark with my head out the window. I didn’t have much time at all to take in the sights, but I enjoyed seeing the landmark and wandered around the park surrounding it. I realized just how tall it was and how blinding it was due to the sun beating down on it.

To transition to my second highlight, I got to take one of Seattle’s more unique transportation systems: a monorail with only two stops, one at the Space Needle and the other, lucky for me, right outside Pike Place Market.

Feeling like I was in Disneyland, the monorail was the perfect way to get from one stop to the next. After a short walk, I ended up right outside Pike Place Market. Luckily, I saved plenty of time (fifty minutes) to wander around the market because there were so many things I wanted to see. I once again found myself wishing I was a local who had the time to truly enjoy the experience. However, my cross-country weekend trip would end up being more brief. I got to wander stalls full of fresh flowers, fruit, and delicious-looking food of all kinds from baked goods to fresh fish.

Of course, my stay wasn’t complete without a visit to the “world famous” Psychic Chicken and the gum wall. Finally rounded out with a taste test of some fresh apple cider stand where I took a cup to go on my last taxi ride to the Seattle airport. Following a delay in Seattle and a five-hour overnight layover in the Dallas-Fort Worth, I finally made it back home and slept for 12 hours before having just another Monday morning.

Happy traveling and …

Be Well, Auburn.