One-Half Fortnight

Only a week remains before my fateful trip 'cross the 'quator.  Traditionally, males of the Algonquin tribe are not considered men until they have flown on the "Steel Bird" to a "Different Continent" to "Study Spanish."  Mazel tovs all around.

All of my belongings are neatly splayed out on the dresser and floor.  My shower time continues to shrink.  Thousands and thousands of dollars fill my electronic coffers, bankrupting my parents and imbuing me with a sense of invulnerability.  Absolutely nothing can possibly go wrong, and households down the block are spontaneously combusting as I siphon off their good fortune.  This must be how Freddie Mercury felt when he was on stage.

In another demonstration of universal favor, USAC said I can hitch a ride with them from the airport to Santiago.  I will be able to identify them because, according to USAC Special Agent Melissa Coyle, they will "probably be holding some sort of sign that says "USAC" on it."  Hopefully, I'll learn the esoteric "sign holding" ability during my studies.

More to come as the days dwindle to my departure.