As I got ready to board my plane in Houston, Texas, I began getting chills. When all I could make out in English over the intercom was, "Now boarding for Guayaquil, Ecuador," in a very strong Spanish accent. My stomach began to spin as I quickly reached for my bag to retrieve my Spanish-English translator and started cramming my brain like an over-dramatic high schooler who forgot to study for his final. I looked to my left then to my right only to notice I was by far the whitest person at my gate and with my plain white T and Cincinnati ball cap, I stood out like a sober Bengals fan in the center of Heinz field. Once I had enough courage I made my way to board the plane. Sitting in my empty row on the plane I just prayed that the people sitting next to me would at least speak English. I felt a sigh of relief when the girl sat down next to me was wearing a Kentucky shirt. Sure she may have been a U of L fan and back in the commonwealth I most likely would have never said a word to her, but for the next 5 1/2 hours she was my new best friend.
Four hours into the flight my stomach comes to an ease, as I sip on my ginger ale and listen to The Who on my i-pod.
I'll write more later.
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