September 17, 2009

I got into a taxi to go to Galeao last night, and the driver and I had the best conversation I had had in Portuguese since arriving in Brazil.  We chatted about the Olympics, and my time in the city, where I learned to speak his language.  Then he took the stupidest way to the airport and as we sat in bumper to bumper traffic I strategized what I was going to do when I missed my 9pm flight.  It was a grittier highway than I had been on, snaking past Praca XV, cars inching toward the bridge to Niteroi.  Exhaust streamed in his open window and I fumed.

I got lucky arriving at the airport, and the lovely women at the Continental desk took pity on my screeching up to her 35 minutes before my flight was to take off.  She handed me a boarding pass and I sprinted through security and to my gate.  I then sat on the mostly empty plane for the next ten hours, until we touched down at Bush International Airport in Houston.  It was odd to be back in the US, not saying disculpe all the time.  The customs woman was confused.  You’ve been in Brazil for three months? And you haven’t taken any classes? Or worked anywhere?  I said that I had been traveling.  What’s your occupation? I was traveling with my boyfriend, he’s still there. Ahhh, she got it.  I went through the cavernous, stark airport at 6am.   I bought a Starbucks iced coffee (one of the things I miss most in Brazil) and headed to my connecting gate.

When I landed at La Guardia at 11am it was gray and drizzly, and we drove through the surface streets of Queens.  By the time I got to my house the day had slipped into Autumn crispness, with some sunshine.  It’s great to have all of the Lewys home, in the same place.  I’m glad I don’t have to miss a minute.


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