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What’s The Rush

Ever notice that whenever you are enjoying life it just speeds by like a lizard on crack? I am currently going through this calamity as I sit here in what will soon be my third week in Jamaica.

That’s right. I’ve been here for three weeks already. What does this mean for you? Well, nothing. (Other than the fact that you will now bear witness to my rambling and bitching complaining about how much I do not want to go back to the “sunshine state.”)

Considering I am a firm believer in the secret, your thoughts become things – yadda yadda yadda – I should have no problem BELIEVING I have more than a week and a few days left here. What a joke. The fact remains, my ticket is currently booked for the 13th, and every year as the leaving day gets closer I sit around hoping for a delay, cancellation, (tropical depression) AND IT NEVER HAPPENS. This, I conclude, is why “The Secret” does not work in said situation. Probably it is because deep down in the back of my mind, I know it won’t.

So every year I try something new; don’t pack my things, tell people I do not know when I am leaving, pretend like I do not know when I am leaving, go out the night before my supposed departure, over-sleep, under-sleep – Everything. You name it, I have done it. I have even tried to use my AirJa connections to officially change the flight accordingly. Not even that worked.

That is when I go into the whole “I don’t like going against fate; I guess I was meant to leave” thing. It gets to the point where if ever my flight takes off, I know I was meant to be on it so no worries about crashing. There was this one time, though, when half-way over Cuba the pilot announced that we will be doing an emergency landing; and there I was – the only idiot on the plane rejoicing that we will not be arriving at Miami International Airport after all. (Previous to the announcement, I was crying. Following it, I began to smile.) I thought we were landing in Cuba. Figured I could try and find my long lost relatives and make a trip out of it. Its not like we were on American Airlines or anything, I would just have to use my 5 years of Spanish lessons and pretend like I belong. Landing In Cuba would have been no issue for me.

Well, we did not land in Cuba. Instead, we headed back to the beautiful paradise-ish island with the overly-excessive crime. Even though we never got to disembark, the few extra hours minutes I got in Montego Bay made me happy. (And I guess I was also happy that we landed safely and that I was alive – perhaps.)

As for the Jamaica salutations, I have got to figure out a way to beat this. But until then, you can find me at the beach.

Mobile (66)

Sickness gone. Finally.

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