Cancun Airport: Hour 2-
I’m starting to feel faint, hopeless.. Full of not-that-great coffee..
But I am not giving up. Surely there is plenty of sustenance (preferably in the form of habenero peanuts).
I’ve made a couple of friends-
They seem pretty ambivalent, but we are for sure maybe going to hang out later.
Is there such a thing as a will for someone who just wound up stuck in Mexico forever? Like the time Olivia Newton John’s husband did that thing where he disappeared.. Did they ever find him?
Am I heartless?
Hour 3.5: There is no wifi. No wifi.
Hour 4. Hour…4.
I found wifi in the form of some printer/fax machine.
I’m now passing the rest of my time converting Pesos to Dollars in my head. $5 for habenero peanuts is not worth it. Yet. I’m considering panhandling at the corner of the Guy Fieri Ristaurante por queso y servesas.
I’m going to learn Spanish and work at this place called “sushiTequila”. I’m just as confused as you are.
So many floppy hats and socks with sandals..
Hour: I don’t know.
A man who looks like that red headed chef on the food network is walking toward me.. He’s going to say words.. Trying my best to look knowledgable yet too busy.
It didn’t work. I showed him the direction to the peso converting machine. Not the one in my head.
If I never make it out, I want you to know how much I loved each of you.. Even you, guy who sat behind me in middle school woodworking class.. I mean that.
Get me out of here.
Turns out- I’m not actually dead.