Miami, post-Peru

I have always enjoyed flying. Being 30,000 feet in the air made me feel powerful. Not like Chuck Norris, but more in the sense that i was part of the great human races whose potential was bound only by the confines of ones own imagination. Even if I was seated right in front of a screaming baby whose parents didn't know how to make him be quiet, I had my good friend Mr iPod. Flying relaxed me. Just me, music and the clouds. Sometimes I would get off the plane and wish I could go back and fly forever. This one time, I greatly regret not doing so.

Miami might have beautiful beaches and breath taking women, but the airport is disgusting. Sea foam blue carpet with green and gray inlays made me feel sick. The whole "chi" of the places made me feel like I had to sneeze but for some reason i couldn't. I hate that feeling. Maybe the design of the international wing was designed so that you would get so uncomfortable that you wanted to leave the terminal. That the only safe refuge was baggage claim. Ironic it is that those walls made me feel trapped, isolated and abandoned.