bambooska

All right, so, just to clarify things I did go to the hospital on Friday because one of my hormone’s level is low. My doctor suspected a case of Hypothyroidism and sent me to an Endocrinologist, friends of hers by the way, to check me for sure. So I did go to that doctor, and what a lovely doctor. Turns out my thyroid is  pretty lazy and is not producing all the hormone it should so I have to take a pill every morning before breakfast, before anything. That will help me speed up my metabolism and help me get rid of all this extra meat HOPEFULLY. I saw that as a good thing because now things have a name. Things that I didn’t know of, they have a name now and that’s a bit relieving. She said it’s not a big thing, I shouldn’t be worried, I’ll just have to work with her to get the perfect dosage for my system. I began taking that pill on Saturday morning. As my ex-boyfriend says, man, I think I’m gonna go to a priest to be blessed because OH MY GOD. Another thing on my health list! Also…

I’M HOME GUYS!

I was nearly killed in Rio because of a Taxi driver (don’t worry, funny story there!) but man, I’m home. I admit I was feeling a bit left out of all the crazy that happens in my little family. I guess that’s one of the sides of living far away for education purposes. Or living far away, period. Let the story begin.

My dad is the kind of man that is always hurry your stuff, be on time. Be on time. Come on, pack early, hurry up, be on time. That means he likes to say that but doing that is a little bit more complicated. Oh, but he loves teaching it to his children. In fact, my father should be a professor because of All The Things He Loves To Teach. He’ll pretty much try to teach you anything. Look, that’s ham in the supermarket. Oh, the pigs. Yes, the pigs. Let’s talk about pigs and the process they go through, also, did you know that in your grandmother’s farm we had pigs? But we got rid of them, and here’s why.

Next thing you know it’s a huge class on pigs and how they don’t fly and evolution. And a couple of eyes rolling. One from myself and another one from the person behind us in line.

So I have all my things packed and there’s still one hour and twenty five minutes left for me to sweep the place, take out the trash and grow some hair just because of the waiting and he’s calling me to see if I’m in the cab already on my way to the airport. Are you there yet? And I feel he cringes on the thought of me being late. Because my dad can be late but oh his offspring can’t. We’re damned if we’re late so he’s checking in every two minutes to see if I’m in the cab already and when I tell him, DAD, RELAX. I’LL BE THERE. He takes the message and don’t call me again for the next five minutes. But five minutes is all I need to panic because, you see, I have three numbers on my cellphone of taxi companies and on a Tuesday night none of them works because NOBODY WILL PICK UP THE PHONE. So I have one hour and ten minutes now and I’m starting to panic because until we get to the airport is another ten, fifteen minutes and my head will explode in the math of how many minutes I have left.

Oh no, I’m damned.

NO SIGHT OF CABS. And I”m already taking out the notebook out of my backpack to google taxi numbers but the Internet won’t work. Oh no, dad, what have you done? It’s totally dad’s fault just because. So I obviously can’t say that and worse yet, I have to keep my cool when I’m losing my shit so I’m walking down the street with one bag in my hands and one backpack on my back to try and get a cab and there are no cabs. One hour left. Except I didn’t know it was one hour left because I looked at the wrong time, I thought it was another time that the plane was going to take off.

So I spot a cab and raise frantically my hand in order for him to stop and he does! In middle of traffic! And I have a problem getting my bag inside the car, I’m dysfunctional like this ever since birth, and it won’t get inside the car and guys, it’s not a huge bag but the adrenaline and fear running through my body screaming PLANE PLANE PLANE PLANE won’t get a single bag to enter the back door of the cab and I’m almost crying because goddamnit bag, get in, and the cab driver is almost getting out of the car to help me push the bag when I finally make it. And it’s like I’m having a child. Oh, so relieving. So I’m in the back of the car and I yell airport! He makes an u-turn and begins a conversation, and I’m panicking inside because I don’t know how many minutes I have left.

Where the hell is my cellphone?

But I find it. Take a breath, I find it. It’s OK, I got it. And I make the airport in time. And I’m so in time that I have minutes extra to chat with my friend at the airport. He’s in the Civil Engineering college, we began it together but he got a job at this airline company and has been working there for a year or so, which means he’s taking it cool. He’s slow going on college, but also because he got another job! This one in the Civil field. He’s extra busy. And I’m so relieved I made it on time.

So my flight is to São Paulo, and then there’s a connection to Rio, my final destination. I begin remembering all the times I was at an airport and the times are huge because I travel ever since I was a little baby. That’s because Brazil is one large, large country and my family is spread all over it. It’s like no one can put us together in a room. Sadly, that means I only partially met them during the periods of vacation in school, which is not cool. I miss growing more closer to family. So after fifty minutes, I’m in São Paulo’s airport and I have some forty minutes before the plane takes off to Rio, my connection, and I grab a cup of coffee while I see these kids playing and running. They remind me of my brother and sister and we used to do the same things they were doing. It was the only thing we could do to entertain ourselves but apparently there are business men that are so grumpy that can’t take the noise. I hear a lot of mumbles around me. I’m sorry about the language but screw them.

Next thing I know, I’m in a plane to Rio.

And it takes only forty minutes to arrive there. And it’s late, 11PM and I need a cab to go to Rio’s Bus Station. Except I’m not taking the cabs outside the airport because like I said it’s 11PM and I don’t really like the yellow taxis. They drive like you’re a tourist and that’s not cool. It’s like they make the distance much longer because you pay the ride according to how much you’ve run. So I decide to take the cabs from inside the airport. Which means you have to pay extra money, and it’s expensive but the Bus Station is not really close and it’s 11:15PM and I just want to catch the bus to my hometown because come on. I’m a little tired and I could try to sleep here.

The red cab driver is this really old man. Think of Cleopatra old. Ramses II. And he looks so friendly! Grandpa style cute!  So I throw my stuff inside the cab and off we go driving in Rio to its Bus Station, and I’m like my mother. I try to be the nicest as possible. I start talking. I ask how’s he doing. And he doesn’t hear me well. So he asks, I’m sorry, what? And I repeat and he still can’t hear me. So he slowly turns himself around while driving. You know, to see me. Hi there. There you are. I can see you, you know?

You guys should see my face. I turn all colors because I’m PANICKING.

I’m almost seeing him letting GO OF THE WHEEL BUT HE DOESN’T DO THAT, THANK GOODNESS. You guys, I shut up immediately thinking that if I open my mouth this man will crash our car in the first wall he sees, OR DOESN’T SEE. So by this moment the coke can in my hand is all smashed in pieces because I’m so FREAKING NERVOUS in mute! Complete silent! You don’t hear a single noise coming from me.

So there’s silence for a few seconds.

And not only is he not satisfied but Mr. Grandpa appreciates the view out of the side windows. So the car slowly starts drifting away to the next lane. All the while I’m throwing up on my bags. TOO MUCH TO HANDLE. By the time we get to the bus station, he says, have a nice trip! And I swear to God I automatically reply, oh, you too! To which he replies back, but I’m not… going anywhere. AND I JUST NOD, SMILE AND LEAVE.

Then it’s a two and a half hour bus trip to my hometown, which I spent watching Mission Impossible (I had never seen it! I KNOW) and The Heartbreak Kid with Ben Stiller. That guy knows how to crack you up!

I arrived. I’m home. I’m safe. I’m happy. :)