On to Chile
**I've been on the road again, for a short while now. Haven't had internets to post, but I've been writing the entries....**
Somewhere over Mississippi, or Texas, or Louisiana - somewhere down in the lush green part of the sweaty southern states - seat 12A on Flight 2312 is bouncing rather jauntily. I hate it when it does that. The bouncing. It doesn’t suit me. I’m more of a ‘smooth flight’ kind of guy, by which I mean that every shred of courage I possess attempts to leak out of my urethra every time the S-80 hits a small patch of turbulence. It’s not too bad today, but I’m rather exhausted, running off of three hours of fitful sleep, a banana, and coffee, and fatigue does seem to take the edge off of the unmanly panic.
I finished my exam just three hours ago: one hundred questions in 27.5 minutes, for an average of 3.6 questions per minute. I only had three hours from the scheduled start of the test until my plane departed Birmingham, and I needed to complete the test, stop for gas, make the hour drive from Tuscaloosa to the airport (BHM, if you were interested), return the rental car, drop off the luggage, and negotiate the frustrating loss of dignity that is airport security. I had some time to make up.
It’s been a decent two weeks in Alabama, and I am surprised to admit that I liked it there in Tuscaloosa. I spent most of my time in class, seeking out more and more ridiculously out-of-the-way home cookin’ restaurants, and sitting in the hotel studying. I spent the first week sharing a room with John, a friend from McMurdo, who was coincidentally at the Fire College for the same session. He had many episodes of a US Navy-flavored crime drama on his laptop that we got in the habit of watching before bedtime.
During the second week I spent a lot more time staring at the walls in my underpants than I normally do. Not that I spend an undue amount of time staring at vertical partitions whilst clad in underclothing. I would probably guess that I spend the normal amount of time in that activity, the average of men in my age group. Aside from that, I repeatedly drove around the greater Tuscaloosa metropolitan area gaping at tornado damage.
Tonight I am en route to Punta Arenas, Chile, down at the far-downy-tip bit of the South American continent, where it points at Antarctica. It’s going to be one of those long, long nights. After a couple of hours in Dallas (where I’m hoping to snack on something a trifle more substantial than a tropical fruit) I’m off to Santiago, which is a leg of about 11 hours or so. I’m not sure, really. I’ve never been there before. Never been to South America anywhere. The cool thing is, though, that this will be my sixth continent visited.
Flight is about to land, so I have to go. More soon. I think I’m going to have the time to write.
Somewhere over the Dallas area.
Somewhere over Mississippi, or Texas, or Louisiana - somewhere down in the lush green part of the sweaty southern states - seat 12A on Flight 2312 is bouncing rather jauntily. I hate it when it does that. The bouncing. It doesn’t suit me. I’m more of a ‘smooth flight’ kind of guy, by which I mean that every shred of courage I possess attempts to leak out of my urethra every time the S-80 hits a small patch of turbulence. It’s not too bad today, but I’m rather exhausted, running off of three hours of fitful sleep, a banana, and coffee, and fatigue does seem to take the edge off of the unmanly panic.
I finished my exam just three hours ago: one hundred questions in 27.5 minutes, for an average of 3.6 questions per minute. I only had three hours from the scheduled start of the test until my plane departed Birmingham, and I needed to complete the test, stop for gas, make the hour drive from Tuscaloosa to the airport (BHM, if you were interested), return the rental car, drop off the luggage, and negotiate the frustrating loss of dignity that is airport security. I had some time to make up.
It’s been a decent two weeks in Alabama, and I am surprised to admit that I liked it there in Tuscaloosa. I spent most of my time in class, seeking out more and more ridiculously out-of-the-way home cookin’ restaurants, and sitting in the hotel studying. I spent the first week sharing a room with John, a friend from McMurdo, who was coincidentally at the Fire College for the same session. He had many episodes of a US Navy-flavored crime drama on his laptop that we got in the habit of watching before bedtime.
During the second week I spent a lot more time staring at the walls in my underpants than I normally do. Not that I spend an undue amount of time staring at vertical partitions whilst clad in underclothing. I would probably guess that I spend the normal amount of time in that activity, the average of men in my age group. Aside from that, I repeatedly drove around the greater Tuscaloosa metropolitan area gaping at tornado damage.
Tonight I am en route to Punta Arenas, Chile, down at the far-downy-tip bit of the South American continent, where it points at Antarctica. It’s going to be one of those long, long nights. After a couple of hours in Dallas (where I’m hoping to snack on something a trifle more substantial than a tropical fruit) I’m off to Santiago, which is a leg of about 11 hours or so. I’m not sure, really. I’ve never been there before. Never been to South America anywhere. The cool thing is, though, that this will be my sixth continent visited.
Flight is about to land, so I have to go. More soon. I think I’m going to have the time to write.
Somewhere over the Dallas area.