Discharged from Aviation Station

Like I said before these accounts of my current Indian adventure are to be quite out of order but I have the utmost confidence that you will be able to keep up. I will admit that the comedic river runs dry in this post, so for some giggle therapy, look at my other website thingy's latest post found here. (It has many pictures)

Now let me take you back to a time when my feet were still atop American soil and the departure of my family had just ended, rather uneventful but at least no tears.

I take leave of Austin and embark on a rather unorthodox route to Indiatown. From Austin to Atlanta, Atlanta to Boston, Boston to Paris, and Paris to Bangalore. I didn't mind what the route, my destination was going to be heaven.

And 30 or so hours later it was indeed. Although it was at night and the skyline was not very forgiving when it comes to preemptive sightseeing out the window, I could still feel how my immediate surroundings had changed.

An example of outside. I guess.

The familiar smells of what was once foreign foods and visions of new faces of people draped in intricate cloths made me feel at ease and in a sense, at home, for the first time in a while.

All that was left to do was get my passport stamped and be on my way to the beautiful abyss that was just outside the window, still sheathed in the midnight sky. The moment came to hand over my passport for a simple overlook and a stamp.

Overlook. Stamp in hand. Double-take. No stamp.

Multiple men are called over. I am sent to an office. I explain my visa dilemma. (Long story short I got a tourist visa instead of a student visa because the Houston consulate is dumb.)

I am told that I have to go back to America. *glass shattering* I see the black vision of India somehow dim even more in the window that has been transformed from a glimpse into the future to an exhibit in a museum with a sign that says "Do not touch."

Ok plan B. Sprint to the door. I almost ran track in high school. Pros: possible make into the country and definitely let everyone in this airport know how fast the hot chocolate is. Cons: jail.

Alright, new plan. Get your thoughts together. Call mom. Oh good my phone is dead. Alright, figure out how to pay for plane tickets back home. Funny, I thought I was home now.

A man approaches me and asks to see the name of the University that I will no longer be attending. The piece of paper that I hand him is the same piece of paper that denied me a student visa from the consulate. The same paper that has me contemplating a fate as either a poor student back in the states without a college to go to, or a rich American airport refugee for the next four months.

The same paper that changes the word "No" to "Yes" from the man I handed the paper to.

I have no idea how fates work. I have no extensive knowledge of any religion nor do think there is a big man in a chair dictating our every move. But whatever force, either internal or external, that drives our lives, I thank it for putting me through this test and allowing me to not lose my cool in this stressful situation.

And the fruits of my labor have been entry into my Heaven: India.

BOO-YAH!!!!