I went back to the States, scheduled a few interviews, dealt with a dead-beat renter, and moved some money around before heading back.
My mother called and asked, “What is going on?” I told her that I was doing well, going to have dinner with my girls, and heading back to Honduras on a red eye flight. Silence. Then my mother could not contain herself, "What in the hell are you going back for?" I told her that I did not do what I went there to do, and I wanted to go back. “Well, all right.” The emphasis was on the last syllable, and only my brothers would understand that affirmative response riddled with the disapproval.
Although my last trip was amazing, I feel it was not complete. My goal has been to try to turn a crummy situation into something positive. I am excited about going to a place where not many white men have gone, and I am not talking about West Valley or downtown Bridgeport.
I packed a bit differently. I already left my new sunglasses at my brother’s house. I grabbed Joy’s laptop, because hers was a bit smaller and lighter. I feel I will regret that promise….if I break it, I will replace it.
I hate to fly, and I can't imagine that the plane from Costa Rica to San Pedro Sula will be very big. It might be a rough afternoon.
It was a rough flight, as anticipated. Red eye and I think the pilot was looking for rough air to stay awake. The lady seated behind me kept practicing her kick boxing on the back of my seat.
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