Rainy day in Minneapolis. At the airport, my uncle buys me a beer. Brown nut ale or something. My uncle is an airport cop and we spent most of the time talking about police work. I didn't mind, the beer was good and it kept me from thinking too much.
I'm sitting on the tarmac and relieved to know that I was smart enough to pack my contact case in my carry-on and that I have two little white friends to help me get through this long day of flying. I feel vulnerable on planes, not being able to move. I would like to have the freedom to run around screaming and waving my arms in case of a crash. I make mental notes of where the pretty girls are on the plan just in case.
What do I want out of this trip? Escape, freedom, forgetting, stepping back, confidence, knowledge, calm. I want to come back satisfied, satiated, changed. I want to fix everything that's wrong with me in three months. A tall order for sure, but I'm an optimist. I'm on my own now and hopefully scared enough to illicit change. I need change. I feel like I can see the rest of my life. In the last year or so, my future emerged suddenly, like oncoming highbeams out of the fog. I have had every privileged, every break, and only a few suitcases to show for it. I can speak Spanish, so I guess that's something, but beyond that, the resume of my life is pretty thin and full of open space. I need a challenge, something to overcome on my own. I hope it's in Asia.
