...and a happy new year

“Are you willing to help us out in the case of an emergency?” the chipper flight attendant asked me on my San Diego - Atlanta flight. “Nah. I think I’ll leave it to them” I responded, motioning to the people who were actually sitting in the emergency row. “I’m just kidding” I immediately cowered, afraid she would put me in an even shittier seat. “That’s okay! At least I know that you’re a leader!” she beamed back at me. I am really not sure why half the world talks to me like I am fourteen.

I actually got across the border without a lot of anxiety. I left about an hour later than I anticipated but still had plenty of time. After a taxi to the border, the actual customs and border crossing and trolley ride to San Diego, the most difficult part was getting a taxi in San Diego to the airport. It was a bit of a cluster fuck in the security line at the airport and a few of us were laughing about how we had no idea where to go. “You wouldn’t be in such a good mood if you had crossed the border from Mexico!” a pudgy anglo man to my right boomed. “Oh, I already did that this morning” I laughed, until I realized he was serious. “I had to wait two hours in my car!” he blustered. Might I recommend the trolley?

I remember while returning from Asia I inadvertently found myself spinning around and staring, in U.S. airports, when I heard English. It is not the same this time. When I boarded the plane I was a little disappointed that my exit row seat wasn’t actually an exit row seat. A couple of guys came on after me and indicated that they were in my row and didn’t look so thrilled at the pseudo exit row seats either. I have lived in the South for over twenty-five years but do not consider myself a Southerner. These guys were Southern. One sported a kind of genteel, Billy Bob Thorton accent, the other, a more Deliverance variety and both wore camouflage. For some reason, I identified with these men. “This sucks!” I exclaimed as soon as they sat down “I thought these were exit row seats!” . “So did I” responded one of them, in such a serious fashion that I regretted saying anything. I really didn’t want to help them fire bomb the plane. After the plane took off, BBT pointed “Tia Juana” out to his friend. I nearly knocked them over to see it through the window. BBT casually opened a book titled “Finding Inner Peace” and ordered a "spritzer" from the flight attendant.

I hit the ground running. I found the malls a bit overwhelming, but not as overwhelming as I did when I returned from nearly a year in Asia at Christmas time. The highlight was watching an Indian family run up the down escalator. Normally I find things like that annoying, just ride the stupid thing down and turn around and go back up. It made me laugh this time.

Staying at my mom’s house is like staying in a hotel. Everything is clean and warm, the bed is super comfortable and the cable TV is amazing. It feels like such a comfortable break. I am curious what the next six months will bring. And I am eternally grateful to have this exchange. All I can say is prospero año y felicidad - for me and everyone I know and come across in the second half of the adventure.