Air travel + Volcanic ash = Free night stay on Airport floor

June 28th, 2010: The 3 hours that I needed to burn before my flight was to depart Atlanta to go to Buenos Aires, turned into an all nighter at the airport. You can’t beat that…a free night at the airport. It seems that the ashes from a volcano that erupted in Chile over 2 weeks ago is still causing some disruptions.

Standing in a line resembling in length of those during the Energy Crises or the Great Depression, we were issued a food voucher (2 for me…my smile earned me an extra one) and some free hygiene products in travel sizes that are portioned for the needs for someone who is the unfortunate size of an unborn fetus. It is good that they give us all deodorant to prevent the plane from smelling like a cattle truck, but I didn't have much need for the folding purple brush or XL t-shirt that could be used as a grown mans nightgown.

While in line, I met a woman from Argentina that has made this layover even better than it already was. If all goes well I will be in flying out at 7am. With a little rub of my rabbit’s foot…all should go well.

On the road again…almost.

June 27, 2011: On the road again…almost. I left Detroit, but I am not quite yet in Buenos Aires. Sitting at the airport in Atlanta, Georgia, I have 3 hours of my life to burn until I am officially back to being the butcher as I continue to hack up the Spanish language throughout my travels.

Sadly, one of my goals during my break was to study Spanish a few hours a day, but it ended up being at best, a few minutes a day - or till my legs became numb as I would multitask resting on the modified seat, in the restroom.

Today I left my childhood home in typical fashion…awake almost all night and not ready until 11 minutes after my intended departure. I thought that since I been home for a few months, I would have been ready days in advance, eating Bon Bons in 60’s-like fashion while I soak in a bath of dirty bubbles . It was a nice...thought.

Meeting up with my friend Cecile for a few weeks in Buenos Aires, I need to be extra aware of my surroundings and thievery since she has obviously been given a curse somewhere while living her life. Every vacation, there seems to be something that happens – in story-like fashion. It ranges from getting her backpack stolen twice at restaurants (a few days ago in Buenos Aires and her first time in Peru) to flying on a mechanically questionable plane that results in unexpected mid route hotel stay.

If we were traveling in the jungles of South America’s interior, I would recommend a visit to the village Shaman…but since we are not, I can only recommend the power of an unlucky one-legged rabbits foot or the possibility of subcontracting the use of someone else’s guardian angel.

Surgeon releases me from my medical chains…w/o probation

June 21, 2011: My Surgeon did not have the power to miraculously heal me by a wave of his hands over my wounds as Jesus was seen doing when he was tramping around the world…nor did he have the power of a Shaman in the jungles of South America to heal me with his powers during a drug induced hallucination. But, my surgeon had the ability to heal me with the assistance of modern technology, an assortment of stainless steel surgically tools and the legal rights to cut someone with a knife and not go to jail for doing it.

Today, I was given the green light by my surgeon to go back to South America, releasing me from my medical chains w/o probation…for the second time. Yes…the second time. My doctor informed me last week after a thorough inspection with an extremely attractive intern looking over his shoulder as my “lower” cheeks were embarrassingly pulled apart, that I will be able to fly out on the 27th…assuring me that the residuals I was experiencing was normal and would go away in time.

Going by the absurd 1-10 pain measurement system and on how I was continuing to…leak…I didn’t believe him and I didn’t believe that a miracle was about to take place. I felt that there was no way I would be able to confidently break away from my medical chains. Though today, one week later…I can confidently say that I am physically ready, as I am almost 90% healed with the other 10% hoping to take place within the next week and at the latest, as sit on a plane flying back to Buenas Aires, Argentina.

T - Minus 6 days and counting…

Exploring NYC with my "1st day in a prison" after shower limp

June 16, 2011: New York City is a metropolis that looks more like a modified cement rat maze than a concrete jungle, locking in an estimated 8,175,333 homo sapiens who scurry around here on a daily basis. Thankfully the people who live here participating in the so called “Rat Race” don’t at all resemble this furry large rodent, because if they did…I might have to start an organization to legalize bestiality.

How can a city like New York City magnetize so many attractive women is something I don’t think I will ever understand – and I once foolishly thought Medellin in Colombia had the largest consolidation of the most attractive women in the world.

Staying with my friends in Brooklyn and Spanish Harlem I ended up being extremely busy as they would either fake illnesses or legitimately request time off of work to show me around. From my visits to museums, fataurants (aka restaurants), an animal prison and general urban exploration, I found myself moving a bit slow as I continue recover from my surgery and the residuals that go with it – though happy that I will not always support these extra large leg hair pulling vaginal Band-Aids that women so unfortunately have to wear throughout their younger “leaking” years.

By the end of the day (10 of the 12 days) I was typically exhausted, supporting a limp that would strongly resemble a man after his 1st day in a prison shower.

On the weekends I would hang out at my friend’s house on the Jersey Shore, failing to see anybody who looked like Snooki from the questionable famous reality show, “The Jersey Shore.” One night, we were going to attempt to make contact with women such as these at a bar called DJ’s. But, after a hard day of Jamin’ at the farmers market, our 1.25 hour power nap turned into a 12 hour power sleep. I was unfortunately unable to maximize my purchase of dark tinted aviator sunglasses and a tight white tank top to expose my huge two-toned biceps to blend in to ward off any potential low IQ Jersey boys from ruining my scientific study of these Jersey girls - who live in the state that is considered to be the “Armpit of America.”

My visit was great and I need to thank Priceline.com and my friends for literally getting me out of my IKEA hospital bed. I will definitely miss them and the one and only NYC rooftop barbeque. Someday I look forward to ”when I get back,” in the United States for good so that I might be able to reminisce with people that I have known more than 2.5 days. Until then, I will not be experiencing this till I am fully netted by a fish in the sea.