Tkachev sat next to Irina on the flight to New York. They were flying into New York before connecting on a flight to Los Angeles. They had already assumed their aliases and had to treat each other as brother and sister. During her training, Irina had learned rudimentary English, but it was not much of a risk as she would be posing as a Russian. Tkachev's English, however, was fluent. He would act as a translator for her until she perfected the language. Once she had gotten used to the language Irina would take the job as a literature professor.
"Miss, would you like a drink?" the stewardess asked Irina in English. Tkachev turned to Irina and whispered the same in Russian. Irina nodded, asking for a soda. Tkachev relayed her answer to the stewardess, who handed Irina a glass. Irina nodded, silently thanking her. She hadn't realized how difficult it would be to have to send every question or thought through a translator. At that point she decided she would do everything necessary to learn the English language.
Irina was able to fall asleep for a while on the plane, while Tkachev read next to her. When they landed in New York, Irina grabbed her purse and bag, sliding out of her seat. She was ready to get off of the plane. It was the first time Irina had flown, and after twelve hours on the plane her legs hurt and she was tired of breathing in the stale air.
In the airport, Tkachev led Irina to their next flight. It was Irina's first glance at America. They were being passed on all sides by people who didn't even give them a second glance. In Russia you couldn't go anywhere without someone looking at you like you were doing something wrong. Here, Irina felt like she could do anything and no one would give it a second thought.
They got settled on the next flight where Irina glanced through an American magazine which she was able to understand most of. She looked at the career wear that American women were shown wearing. She looked to her right to see if Tkachev was awake. He was. She tapped his arm, then showed him the magazine. She whispered in Russian. "Do you think I could get some clothes like this when I get my job?" Tkachev looked down at the women in skirts. "We'll see," he said and turned away. Irina went back to her magazine.
They finally landed in Los Angeles. Tkachev and Irina walked off the plane. Tkachev led her to the baggage claim where they got their suitcases. Outside of the airport, Tkachev flagged down a taxi as Irina started at her surroundings. She was fascinated by the warmth of the air that brushed up against her face. When they got into the taxi, Tkachev gave the driver an address and they took off. Staring out the window, Irina watched as people walked by on the street in shorts and swimsuits, going in and out of shops. She was hit with a sudden urge to be one of them, to stroll around without a care in the world.