I sincerely hope that no one ever reads this manuscript.
With that out there, I’ll go ahead and begin.
My name is, well, actually, it doesn’t really matter. I know exactly who I am. I am currently sitting in seat 3C on a Boeing 747 bound for Shanghai. The reason? I’m running away from home. Hardcore style.
(Is it still running away when you’re nineteen years old?)
I figure the first thing someone does to be reborn, whether it’s religion or getting a plane to somewhere that doesn’t speak their language, should always be done with as much force as possible. I couldn’t think of anywhere further away from the US than Singapore. Thus the plane. To Shanghai.
We’re about seven hours into the second leg (out of two) of my flight. The first was from xxxxx to the O’Hare international airport in Chicago. This leg of my flight is from Chicago to my destination in Shanghai. I booked first class tickets, so I’m surrounded by old business men and an attractive asian girl my age who doesn’t speak english. However, she apparently speaks wine. She’s on her fourth glass in the last two hours. I think I saw her crying earlier.
I should probably figure out what the hell I’m doing. Oh well, that can come later. Perhaps after a hot bath in a hotel room. Same with writing down why I’m running away. Right now all that matters is that the attractive asian woman is looking over at me more and more frequently, and it’s time to learn to communicate. I wonder what my parents are thinking.
