Hola Colombia

We arrived at the Rafael Nunez airport early in the afternoon.   22/24 missed the flight to Miami the first day.  That’s 88%.  The leader of the group, Dr. Snuggs, was one of the two.  Second in command, Dr. Nicely, appointed me leader, Heffe, if you will, of 12 other students that would take a 4pm transfer through Atlanta International to Miami International.

I assigned everyone a number and had them sound off upon command.  We’d arrive in Miami before the other group, lead by Dr. Nicely.   Instead of funneling everyone into a van directed to a luxury hotel Hollis (#2) had employee pricing with, we waited for Dr. Nicely and her group.    This proved to be a mistake as Miami was crawling with Spring Break, yet we spent 19 hours in an unexplainably cold “Save Darfor” exhibit on the 3rd floor.

Sometimes you just need to tell your leader what to do.

The Avianca flight floated in and rolled to a halt marking our arrival at the Rafel Nunez airport that early afternoon.   The sun was bright, the heat was sticky and we had FINALLY arrived.   Stepping into the sun was like that first splash of water on your face after several days without showering.  The air tingled with the peaceful sounds of being far away from home.   Big smile at he rooster who strolled along with our group.

Chow (#4) and I walked 4 blocks away to the beach in Boca Grande where we rejoiced and soaked in the sensation of relief as our toes sank into the sand.   Beer.   We were there, sat down in the plastic chairs at the plastic tables with Club Colombias plopped in front of us.  Next, we were offered prostitutes and cocaine.

“Senior, for now, we must pass” politely, and with the suggestion of ‘maybe later’ as my father once taught me.   The breeze blew in fresh salty smells from The Gulf.  Colombia is gonna be SICK.

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