Monday, 01/14/02 - 11:29 am.
Yesterday we went to mass. Then to Home Depot. It was 11 am and I had to be checkin' in at the airport at 11:30. Denise dropped me off at Office Depot, I got in, headed to the software section, got The Sims Hot Date and off we went.
My last meal in Houston: Taco Bell's chicken quesadilla.
Last song I listened to: Aerosmith's One Way Street, Mtv Unplugged.
We arrived at 11:45 and we waited in line for 45 minutes (which sucked, it was the only airline with that many people in line, the rest were practically empty). Denise signed for me because I was a fuckin' Unaccompanied Minor. Fuck, I wanted to go on my own. Problem: the kids had activities at 1:30. I had to be upstairs at 2 pm!!! Denise begged and begged but "no, you must be there, or else she won't get on the plane". Ok.
She called some people and rescheduled. Kids can show up at 2:30. So we went to the stairs and they go: "you can't go in, unless you have a document that proves you're taking her". *sigh*. Back to the check-in. Then back to the car because Denise was carrying a pocket knife (she's that kind of woman that's always prepared for anything). 20 minutes later, we're back to go upstairs and they go: "no, the kids can't go in with you". Duh! Miserables, she can't leave the kids alone in an airport. So she had to go back to the check-in to get two other documents. Ten minutes later, she came back with the same document she had gotten the first time. Only this time, next to her name it read: "2 childs". Ok, but finally, at 1:50 we said goodbye. The kids, Denise and I were crying silently.
I broke down as soon as they were out of sight. I had the Mouth t-shirt on and two cops in the hall go: The Rolling Stones. I didn't react (well, inside I wished it had a been an Aerosmith tee). So I got in the plane and all the crew was like aawww, don't cry. My seat was the last seat of the last row. Behind me it was crew and in the three rows in front of mine were empty. Every crew member would check on me, since I was crying horribly, I could barely sob in silence. I kinds felt like I was a princess. I didn't notice when people went onboard and I didn�t see anyone during the flight, except for the crew members. They were very kind. They gave me a pillow, a blanket a Coke 600 ml bottle and -total humilliation- a book with activities for kids. Because as a minor, I should be treated like one.
That was really humilliating. I'd been taking care of myself these two months and suddenly I'm wearing a sticker that says "kids class", and filling the dotted areas to find one of the Airlines gateways. At first I thought it was the Titanic but it turned out to be New York. Way out of date...there the Twin Towers were. I drew some smoke coming out of it, because children draw what they see and what they understand.
For the first time in my history, I didn't give a fuck about being on the plane. Didn't get sick, ate everything, read the Aerosmith Autobiography (Aerosmith just split up over spilt milk), saw outside the window. Incredible view, but it was a little blurry. I just could't stop shedding tears. From Houston to Belize it was a smooth sight. Everything was so damn plain. But the sky...it starts white in the horizon and it becomes darker and darker until you see above you and it's almost night up there. We stopped in Belize for gas and then off we went. More water. Some islands. A lot of clouds sometimes. Until I saw these weird clouds, way too dark...duh, those are mountains, baby...welcome back home!!!.
Oh....uh, ok. Since I got in the plane I was in doubt...should I get off the plane, should I, should I?. I really didn't want to leave. Seeing the mountains didn't help. Oh, Gosh we're going to crash. I remembered the 1996 plane crash, against one of the mountains. I looked at them and I thought that it was impossible for a plane to crash with one of those, unless it was already going down. Ok, we were not going down. But then I saw them. I can't really remember their names (it's in some indian language) but it's two mountains, one next to another, like a woman's breast, as if she's in a lying position. We just passed them by, they were far from the plane but then I understood the accident. Of course those mountains were huge. But...well, 45 minutes after taking off from Belize, I was home. Wishing I could go back.
I just got out of the airport and I felt the difference. The people (we almost get run over by a car because here there's practically no rights for pedestrians), the little streets, the whole enviroment...well, everything was awful. I got home and my parental units had changed a few things. My room has another bed, because Javier is in there. It's a fucking mess and it got on my nerves. I was tired and sad. I felt I was in a strange place.
Catching up: Maria's (my brother's fiancee) sister got married and there's some kind of hose in the bathroom. It's weird taking a bath with a kind-of-a-hose. My sister is in Mexico, Javier is at his dad's house (he's coming today), Alan was on call last night so I'll see him today, Renan and his family are back to their sad ant-like schedule (I get tears in my eyes everytime I remember them, so I'm very touchy, sensitive and tearful) my damned neighbor is playing music that sucks, I haven't called anybody, Frog is really happy and as dumb as always...basically nothing has changed and it's like I never was in Houston.
I want to get back. Without necessarily meaning that I don't love it here, I'd just love to be back there.
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