The Washington Chronicles I

Day 1

I’m sitting around in the travelers’ lounge.  It’s a little past 4 AM.  I haven’t slept and I feel like I’m about to keel over from hunger.  The problem is,

the shops aren’t fucking open yet.

I.AM.HUUUUNGGGRRRYY.

To think that less than 8 hours ago I ate half a pizza.  I’m starting to wonder if I have worms.  (It wouldn’t be surprising considering that I’ve had almost every other disease for the last two years).  If AIDS were airborne, I think I’d be infected.  Germs and viruses warm up to me, no need to explain why really.

Interesting story, I just got told by the Filipino immigration officer specifically not to mention that I am going to the US for employment.  I wonder how I’m going to spin this considering that my L-1 stamped for specifically names that the purpose of my VISA is for employment.

I’m looking at a guy fixing sandwiches.  Maybe I could stealthily creep up and steal his sandwiches.  At least as stealthy as one can be when they carry a backpack half their weight and wearing a really conspicuous gray jacket.  Hmmm… Wait, their shop is opening in a bit.  All I could think about right now is

fooooooood.

Be right back folks….

20 hours later…

I finally check in to the hotel 9 pm in the evening after spending dinner at my sister’s friend’s house.  So far, I’ve seen the inside of the John F. Kennedy airport in New York,  I saw the Capitol Building and the Washington monument and I have seen the wonderful, scenic roads of the Virginia Highway.  I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I will be here for several months.  Truthfully, what I will miss most from the Philippines will be the people.

I’m pretty sure that here in the US, the people who understand my psych profile have had 2 hour crime documentaries that feature them.

So what happened in the last 20 hours really?

The trip didn’t start to become memorable until about 6 hours into my connecting flight from Hong Kong to New York.  I realized then that I am constitutionally incapable of sitting still.  I don’t know, I may really have Attention Deficiency-Hyperactivity Disorder.  Basically, I squirmed in my seat for 9 hours. Every 20 minutes, I had to go to the bathroom.  I swear to God, the stewardesses were starting to look at me funny like I was snorting Blow in the bathroom.  Actually, I was just really amazed by the sudden sucking of air when you press the flush button.  I wasted two rolls of toilet paper on this so maybe the stewardesses were not entirely wrong about their funny looks.

When I started to get bored with the toilet flushing, I went through their endless stack of inflight movies.  I watched Star Trek IX for the nth time.  More and more, I worry that I might end up like Ted Bundy or Charles Manson.  When we finally landed at JFK International, I was so stoked to be in New York.  Who wouldn’t? It is the city so nice, they named it twice.  I had a sweet cheese scone which did not disappoint.  Something about New York food that makes me hungry.  It was then that I started to feel some shoulder pain.  I was carrying a bag of clothes with a laptop and a half dozen big books.  I. WILL. NEVER.BRING. MORE. THAN. 10. COMICS. OVERSEAS. EVER.AGAIN.  I think I separated my shoulder bearing more weight than my paper-thin frame could handle.  (It became obvious to me when the stewards/stewardesses started to help me with my bags to keep the line moving)

I could go on and on about how my flight to New York was interesting but, the bottom line is:

I miss the Philippines already.