(It's a metaphor, people... work with me.)
This is usually exhilarating for me because I know what the destination is and I know exactly how long it's going to take to get there. I know where the bathroom is and I know the flight attendants will bring me meals, drinks when I ask for them, and a travel toothbrush and warm towel when we get close to landing. And I made the decision to get on the particular plane I did, so it's all OK with me. But right now, I'm mid-flight over the dark, freezing Pacific and I don't know where I'm headed. And I don't know where the bathroom is or when I'll get to brush my teeth or even eat again. I want to think of this transition time as the exciting flight to somewhere I've never been, but it doesn't always feel that way.
I'm back in Sulphur - waiting to land.
I'm working at Chili's here, which is very different from the Chili's in Ruston where I had started making friends and actually having fun.
I'm waiting for the FBI to return my background check so I can apply to schools in Korea.
And then I'll be waiting to see if anyone accepts me.
Then I'll be on a real plane, headed to a real place, and I'll know where the bathroom is.
