Building a Mystery

Small children who cannot behave on planes should be sedated. Even dogs are better behaved than some children are. Can you imagine the furor if a dog kept whining and crying for an hour straight? Or if the dog stood up on its seat, placing its front paws on your seat back and drooled on the back of your neck? There'd be an uproar. How come it's okay to dislike dogs and complain about being in a closed cabin with one, but it's not socially acceptable to be irritated by a small child behaving the exact same way? What kind of country is this when we better train our pets than we do our children? Maybe we should start clicker-training our kids.

My bus ride back to San Jose was uneventful. Though the Tico man sitting across the aisle from me had 4 different Bank of America ATM cards in his back pocket. My flight home was delayed by 3 hours, making my 4 AM rising utterly unnecessary. Instead of arriving home at 6 pm, I arrived home closer to midnight.

I spent about 6 hours sitting in Miami's airport, which didn't endear it anymore to me. Last time I was in Miami's airport, it was because they'd overbooked my flight. And the prior time, I had to spend the night sleeping on a chair. I hate Miami. Luckily, the $4.50 I invested in a Vanity Fair paid off since it occupied me for 4 out of the 6 hours. Read the damn thing cover to cover. And also consumed the bag of white chocolate covered coffee beans that were supposed to be a souvenir for my friend. Oops. I spent the last hour chatting with a med student who's going to be a 2nd year at the school I'll be at in a few weeks. The >16 hours I've spent travelling haven't done wonders to my skin or hair. I'm starting to look forward to a good shower and a long nap.

About halfway through the evening at the airport, I realized that I was no longer thinking about Mohawk Med Student from Panama. Perhaps fickleness runs in both the sexes. Had I stayed an extra day or two, perhaps it would've become patently clear to me that he's a doofus. Or boring. Or strange. But half his intrigue at this point is simply the lack of conclusion. He'll forever remain a mystery. And everyone loves a good mystery. Even if we do meet again, I'm sure it will be strange and awkward, because we'll be back in our accepted roles in society instead of simply being 2 individuals who shared a lap and a good conversation at Shipwreck bar.

I used to think that I could get along with practically anybody. Partially because I talk a lot. But also because regardless of our differences, we're all human underneath it all. But in Dominical, I got an inkling that my idealism might be on shaky ground. Meels and I hitched a ride with a bunch of guys who were headed to the waterfalls. My first hint that perhaps I might have little in common with these guys occurred when they all mentioned they worked in construction or carpentry or lawn-maintenance. The landscape guy had a startling resemblance to Brad Pitt. True to the Desperate Housewives gardener stereotype, except he wasn't in college. Even though we're all people with similar wants and desires, the paths we all lead are sometimes so divergent that it's a struggle to find common ground. My second hint happened when I innocuously asked what Brad Pitt's tattoo was on his back. It was the Confederate flag. It said something that 1) I didn't know what the Confederate flag looked like and 2) that he had it tattoo'ed hugely on his back. Later on int he day, I also had to explain to him that Oriental is for rugs, Asian is for people. The funny thing is - Meels ran into that bunch again at the airport when she was leaving. She sent me an email about it. Apparently, I'd made quite an impression on Brad Pitt, since his friends told her he wouldn't shut up about me for days after we parted ways. I was slack-jawed. I wasn't sure what he was basing this on since we barely exchanged two words to each other, besides some awkward (and unsuccessful) attempts to find common topics of conversation to discuss, but I was hugely flattered that I'd made such an impact, however unknowingly. I had my suspicions that perhaps the porn industry might have something to do with it, but I thought I'd give myself (and him) the benefit of the doubt and assume it was my dazzlingly charming personality.

What I like best about travelling is the fact that everyone is more open. Everyone is out of their element and you all have travel as a common thread. No assumptions are made, no roles in society are adhered to, and no one cares. Backpacking levels the field because everyone is cheap, everyone smells, and everyone is completely dirty. And thus, British fashionistas mingle anonymously with Bob Marley-worshipping males, guys with the confederate flag tattoo'ed on their backs fall for Asian med school girls, and an otherwise pseudo-conservative gal like myself finds herself chatting up a boy with a mohawk. And discussing Asimov, of all things. At home, you never speak to strangers in coffeeshops, because you don't have a common thread. But when you're backpacking, really - everyone is fair game. How long have you been travelling for? Where are you from? How long is your trip total? Where have you been so far? Really? I'm headed there next! How did you like it? It's the ultimate exercise in non-judgmentalness. It's what I imagine high school would've been like if everyone wore uniforms.

I got back home about half an hour ago. Back to real life and real responsibilities. I suppose you could say that the rest of my life begins tomorrow, since it marks a move to Philadelphia this Sunday and the beginning of med school shortly thereafter. I hope my socializing skills remain well-oiled for orientation purposes. Though, I have a feeling my bug bites will remain starkly evident for the White Coat Ceremony. I'll be the Mosquitoe Bite Girl. I ended up with a grand total of 96. 4 short of the coveted Triple Digits. Disappointing.