I MAKE AN ENTRANCE (Taken from the Written Misadventures of the Green Booklet)

(Nagoya, Japan)

“I was in business class at first. Going to Nagoya was no problem. 4 hours at northwest flight 072. The most we (my grandparents and I) went through was waiting for 40 minutes at the hallway of the plane juncture with other elderly people in wheelchairs. I took my first whiz outside the Philippines (big deal) and felt the first signs of alienism. There wasn’t much to see in Nagoya except for the airport and the oriental. We boarded for Detroit. Still flight 072.”

“Going to Detroit was a not bad at first. 9 hours. Window side. Bad Food. Deaf Mute Seatmate. Monotonous Scenery. What could go wrong? I was left with not much option to do if were a typical passenger. Boastfully, I started reading my books (Atlas Shrugged, To kill a Mocking Bird, and the Privateersman), I tried my newly bought Brainteaser Book.I had my trusty portable music. Thanks to Mon, Ton, and Chris, and Kevin, the sounds of home were only a bleep away. I started writing in my journal.”

“3 Hours later, things started getting repetitive. My back started to hurt as my body longed for the comfortable incline of the business class seats. But there is a reason why my parents put me in economy. They don’t want me to be spoiled. But you know, 9 hours is too much long a time to teach your child the value of patience. Especially if it meant sacrificing good posture, solid black hair, and your sanity. I couldn’t even go out and use the bathroom that much since there was an old couple, troubled by hearing and free movement, I had to hassle every time I had to go. I’d check on my grandparents every now and then too.”

“3 hours later (6 hours…so far), with no sleep at all, I had to attend to a call from the flight attendant. Lolo Mau was calling for me because my Lola Ining was “acting weird”. I tried comforting lolo that things were alright, and at the same time I tried to figure out why lola was acting so strange. With a silly posture as well as half open eyes, she kept of rambling things like “Binugbog nang daga ang pusa” (The mouse beat up the cat), and “Bakit mo lininis sila?” (Why did you clean them?). My conceded to my lolo and agreed to call for a doctor on board. Lolo had to get off his seat while 3 doctors (all Filipino) attended to him. The doctors assumingly diagnosed her with hypertension. I think it was because she mixed her liquor with her medicine. An appetite for delirium. Hay naku, Lola!”

“By the time we got to Detroit, paramedics were ready to attend to my Lola. These paramedics were huge. American of course, these guys were at least just as tall as I. 3 paramedics attended to her, while 3 paramedics, for a lack of a better term, interrogated me. General information really. I was really surprised when their “superior” arrived. He made the others look like dwarves, and me look like a mushroom. He round 6 foot 5 inches with a chest span twice as mine. He started asking me questions too. I held back my quivering voice. Welcome back to America, Miguel.”

“Point of Entry. We got through the immigration officer, no problem. Picked up all of our suitcases *wink*. Thanks to guys like Geoffrey, and Matt, catching our flight and going around the Detroit Terminal was no problem. Except for a moment when lola was missing for 20 minutes and I had to “search the women’s bathroom” and ask somebody to announce to the whole airport that my grandmother was missing. I found her ordering Quazmo Subs Sandwiches.”

As we were getting lunch in the food court, I spotted a girl working in Coffee Beanery. She was FINE. I swear. I decided to take an order from her when the original black cashier took a bathroom break. She was smiling at me even before taking my order. I smiled back (oh wait I was smiling way before that). I ordered Hot Citron Tea ($1.75), and then she asked where I was from. She said she was from Hungary.

The guy behind me: “Do you believe her?”

Miguel (taking a good look at her): “Naw, she looks Venezuelan. I like her smile though.”

T.G.B.M: “Yeah I agree with you.”

Girl (chuckling): “what was that?”

Miguel: “If this was my last stop over, I’d ask you out.”

Girl (I NEVER GOT HER NAME): “I can see why you like your Tea hot.”

I discarded the idea.

I flew out of there not knowing what could’ve happened. A sour dick wallowing in the sour possibility of never. I think I’ll get along with the girls here much better. I began to read Anne Rice’s Blood Canticle which I purchased earlier during the flight. To kill time, or to enjoy my favorite author? I don't really know.

Seeing the Castro Contingency intercepting us I in the airport was relieving. Uncle Mark, Tito Jonathan, Tita Carina, Jack, Jazz, Lana, Chris, Vania, and Janica. Tita Ruby was home cooking. Nothing much has happened since then, and its already the 3rd day. I jogged for 5km though, as well as hide inside a bathroom because of a hurricane. And in 20 minutes I’m going sailing with my Uncle Bob. Things are finally picking up. Greetings to you all in the Philippines. I miss you all already.

No tears. No fears.

Music at the moment: Gravity by Embrace (written by Coldplay’s Chris Martin)