I step off the plane, and from what I can remember, basically in an effort to capture everything on film in five seconds, run into one of those ridiculously large and obtrusive blocks to keep people from driving into the airport, and fall over it. The next humorous experience I could think of would be the palm reading, in which I was told I've been cursed deliberately by someone who's been jealous of me for a long time, and I am basically fucked from some Black Magic. I will have no money, no one special in my life, and my parents hate me. Singularly I would say that these things mean nothing, together I would think that this trip is just doomed, but by the mere fact that I am India, among amazing, intelligent, talented people,
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