So it beging. So it begins.

So it all begins when I fly back to Los Angeles from Rio. This is 2006, November. I can remember the last morning before my flight. João, Fernanda and Julio were with me… We took the long way to the airport, wrapping around the Botanical Gardens and through the São Something or another Tunnel. The skies were grey and the humidity was fresh. I sat up front with my hands folded on my lap. I had them like that because that’s all I could do really. I didn’t want to go back. I was scared, sad and my stomach was as spoiled as a banana. I was in no mood to celebrate such an amazing drive to the point of my departure. It felt like some over passionate and surreal Vietnam film. I was going to war I quietly murmured to myself every so often during that long, quiet drive to Galeão Airport, Antonio Carols Jobim terminal. Tam airlines flight #I forgot for São Paulo (8 hour layover) and a LAN peru flight to LAX via Lima Peru. Lima. Lima, Lima. This whole story begins in Lima as well. Not just here. And before Lima the story can also begin in San Francisco, or, better yet, it can begin in Pasadena California. For now, I will begin from Rio de Janeiro. The day I flew back to Los Angeles and bought a ticket for a ride I didn’t ask for. Such is life… such is life.

We arrived to the airport at around 11 am. My flight was at 12 noon. Usually when I fly back to LA out of Rio the flights all leave in the evening. Roughly at the same time flying out to 4 major US cities, Frankfurt, Barcelona and Portugal. Since this was a Chilean airline I was dealing with, the only airport it flies out of is via São Paulo. At 11pm for that matter. I had been on a Brian Eno binge for that entire week so I felt a repetitious cleansing through “Music for Airports” was due. What the hell! My defense mechanism began to trump up as soon as I checked into the TAM counter. João, Fernanda and Julio all stood off in the corner along the Varig check-in, which, earlier that year went bankrupt. I was in Rio for the plug pulling on such a National Icon called Varig Airlines. Within seconds on the day the Brazilian Government grounded the flights, all Varig related flap messages spindling up in the big schedule board read CANCELED next to its respective destination. Sad. As was I on that November morning…….and I couldn’t show it to them. I needed them to know I would be back. I looked over my shoulder to consider them in the distance. They stood side by side. I took a deep breath and made myself a little excited for the plane ride and the layover, hoping to block any need to well up. I looked up at the giant message board for no reason at all as I made my way back to them, maybe just to lift my eyes off the immediate reality I dreaded.

My flight was on schedule and there was no delay. Gravity had begun taking hold on those sweet slow emotions of parting. I gave Julio a tight hug and moved on to a sobbing Fernanda, breaking her tears with laughter I was trying to in instill on all of them. Lastly - the hardest part - João. He is the little brother I never had and the best friend one can only shoot a gallon of heroin to feel the comfort I feel in knowing he is my friend. But that comfort wasn’t enough. My stomach relayed the Vietnam War mental trip back to my eyes and ears and everything began to muffle out as I closed my eyes and placed my hand on his shoulder. I took a deep breath and looked right at him, confident I would see him again. He whispered in my ear, “it doesn’t get any better than this.” I looked at him and smiled. He didn’t smile as much as there was some kind of rush now pushing into the moment. Yes, my flight. I had to catch that plane. Facing him I took several steps back to let Julio and Fernanda come back into my vantage. João slowly began to step back as well. I turned away to hand the ticket clerk my boarding pass. From there I would walk into the hallway that divides the travelers from the rest. This divide has always been such a dynamic ever since a child, airport walls dividing me from the beginning and end of a trip. I took a look back at the three of them before a wall would eventually eclipse the terminal out of sight. Another deep breath and there I was, pointed Northbound to Los Angeles. God I didn’t want to go back.
I took out a bottle I had not opened since leaving San Francisco approximately a year ago that morning. I was sitting at the gate in SFO airport waiting for my flight to Lima and remembered a friend of mine gave me 4 high doses of vicodine to help me sleep on the flight. Now I was sitting at the gate waiting for my flight to São Paulo, popping the third pill from the bottle. I washed it down with some water I had stuffed into my backpack. There was only a meager sip left but it helped dignify the swallow. I took a deep breath and woke up in São Paulo.