The engine roars to life, and the flight attendant says in her chirpy voice, “Please fasten your seatbelts, everyone!” I have already done so, and my face is pressed up against the window, looking out at the people.

“Thank you for flying American Airlines. Takeoff will be in two minutes. Enjoy your flight!” I tune her out, most of the time. I’ve heard it all before.

I’m not too worried about enjoying the flight. Sure, it’s seven, maybe eight hours, but I could care less. What I’m more worried about is what happens after the plane lands.

We begin to rise, and the lights of the city below us fade to the size of small, twinkling Christmas lights. I continue to focus my attention out the window, only looking up when the flight attendant asks if I would like a Coke. I quickly shake my head and resume staring.

Soon after this plane lands, I will no longer be an American. I will set foot in a country that does not speak English. On this plane, I know exactly who I am. But when it lands, everything changes.