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Published: January 14th 2009
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The cabin smells of Bojangle's! Are they serving Bojangle's for our in-flight meal, you suppose? The coastline is growing out of the UV haze. Goodbye Colombia. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 streams to the television screens. Intrigue sweeps through my body. NO! I will not let my masculinity be assaulted by this incarnate evil. Annuals' lyrics flood through my brain. Experimental sounds leak into my ears. Right to left. Left to right. New obsession, I feel it. I'll be taking some other people down with me, that's for sure. They really are similar to Cloud Cult; thank you Last.fm, thank you very much. Words in Spanish. I say "pollo". Reward. Always go with the chicken; I don't caer how good the pasta is. You always go with the chicken. My neighbor has succumbed. The hair on his face is disappearing, his features becoming more feminine. My eyes may be transfixed to the picture box, but I will not plug my headphones in. God help me, I will not! The moon actually gets bigger as it initially rises from this far up. The clouds are radioactive puffs of cotton candy, sitting in the sunset. You don't understand how fast you're going
, then two jets speed past you in rapid succession, and you suddenly understand. It's all relative. A random stream of condensation is left hanging at eye level, far above the clouds. Another plane has been here before. The sky is slowly being split in half by pink and purple. the silver disk watches as the colors fade to gray. Golden light pierces the other side of the cabin. I now realize I have ended up on the good side of plane. My meal consists of a chicken breast coated in pesto, delicious. Green beans and potatoe wedges act as security on either side. In another boat not far off, a salad of lettuce, celery, and carrots sits waiting for my attack. I drench them in salad dressing, but no ordinary dressing, an infusion of Italian dressing and green salsa. You can taste the sour lime on the tip of your tongue. Next a roll is smothered in butter. Sin sal. With or without salt? Oh well, we'll find out soon enough. Finally we have dessert. Chalk white flan substance in a strawberry sauce. Not to shabby American Airlines. I don't know why but ginger ale never ceases to amaze
me. Every time I drink it, it's like the first time all over again. I wonder if I should have claimed those Cuban cigars? To late I filled up all the slots on the Customs form. Hope they don't search my luggage to hard. They're cowering in the folds of my sleeping bag. The Bogota airport was much more of an ordeal than I expected. Massive lines. Three sets of security. First the normal one. Second the police go through my bag (I thought they x-rayed it for a reason) and I'm frisked. Finally at the gate, my bag is looked in again. my Chaco's are examined, bent backwards and forwards. And a metal detector is waved in my vicinity. I'm pretty sure it went off a few times. Oh well, that's they're problem if I have a bomb in my anal cavity.
It's night time and there's a full moon. Love it. I always have the most jaw dropping eye popping flights . That's another blessing from God I can be thankful for. I need to be praying. I'm going to be under some heavy air strikes from Satan when he gets back. When he gets back? When I get back. This will make Israel's bombardment of the Gaza Strip look like fire crackers. But I know Christ is already victorious. He's using Satan's head as a foot stool. That's the image I cling to. I'm trying to reflect on all I've learned as David Gray serenades me. I'm ready to be home. I'm ready for the craziness that this semester will bring. I'm ready to follow Christ anywhere. I'm ready to follow God's will, not my own. I'm ready to let God use me to impact people in ways I'll never know about. I'm ready to let God use me to change Columbia, to change America, to change the world. I'm ready to speak the truth. I'm ready to love unconditionally. I'm ready to never stop showing grace. I'm ready to let my faith more mountains.
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