I am home. And I do not know if I want to laugh and rejoice or cry and curl into a ball (not because it is freezing). I am glad I had a eleven hour layover in London. Helped me settle into seeing so many obronis. Plus a salad from a sushi place, haribo, and a few local newspapers to keep me awake. Lots of people watching happened yesterday. 

Met Boston (obviously from Boston) while waiting for check-in. I arrived around 1200 (for no obvious reason) and learned check-in was not until around 1700. Sat on my bags, read, doodled, made friends with one of the airport service men who would come around occasionally and check up on things. 

Security, customs, all that was quick and painless. Even through London and Chicago.
(I did however, manage to forget my pull-over twice but quickly made up the error… and bought a box of Ghanaian chocolate for thirty). Quick and painless flight into London (whilst watching Perks of Being a Wildflower and listening to Mumford and Son’s Babel). A meal of vegetables – potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, broccoli, green beans, and some other thingie and a fruit plate and a smaller salad with greens. London, simple people watching. Admiring stores, buying chocolate and a magnet. God forsaken magnet. Ten hours later, waiting in line to board the plane and I meet Ann Arbor. I would tell you the exact town he was from in Michigan but I forgot. I do know it is about seventeen minutes via highway to Ann Arbor from his location (his calculations). Nursing student, (I am going to stay something about his stutter because I admired it. We had a good conversation up until we split for seats. Especially with the media portrayal of Iran verses that of lets say, Saudi Arabia). Couscous for dinner and a rice pudding with soya milk. Excellente. Through customs relatively simple (only asked if I had tobacco or plants…) and I said no. I was caring alcohol, for which I am a minor, but it’s okay. I came from Ghana. KFC for dinner (and admiring a flushing toilet and hot sink water – I did burn my hand the first three times). Drinking water via tap and listening to my dad babble about the NRA, Faux news, and plenty of other right winged objectives. Then a detailed discussion that studying Human Rights will not find me a job and would need to double major in something job-worthy. Money, money, money. Naw. 

Hot showers and wasting water. All the best and all the worst. To Ghana, for making me a much wiser person than before (even if I forget how to spell basic words once in a while). To Goal, whom has made many fun weekend nights. I’ll take a proper shot with Bacardi and Hawaiian punch later. And will post more (text and writing) when I have rested from my sleep deprivation. 48 hours in counting and it’s what, seven a.m. 

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