A cab.

A train. (Well, a train and a half, but that's a long story.)

A ten-hour flight.

A five-hour layover in freaking Houston.

An overcrowded flight to Phoenix during which the guy next to me probably asked me to join him in a drink fifteen times.

An overcrowded flight to Phoenix during which I repeated the phrase "I'm underage" more than a girl ( Read more... )

So after panicking for a few solid hours this afternoon, I decided the best thing to do would to go out and lie on the grass next to my dorm in this glorious spring weather, just like every other granola-munching, Birkenstocks-wearing, tattooed-with-Hindi kid on this campus.

It was just what the doctor ordered.

Me, my camera, and Dylan's Blood ( Read more... )