Flying Out
The night starts off when I hitched a ride with my friend Yelp-Celebrity-Ed to SFO. The whole time he complains about having to pee. By the time we get there, he's got me looking around for bottles. I leave Ed in the drop off area committing public urination and head into the terminal.
By the time I get to the airport, Atousa is already there, with both her parents in tow. She's wearing cargo shorts instead of skinny pants so I don't even recognize her when she waves for about a minute straight at me. I'm wearing a leather fanny pack as a camera case and a giant turtleshell-shaped bright blue BagMax backpack I got on Mission Street for $10. We are so fashionable.
Taca sends in a plane that looks like it might make it as far as, say, Vegas, which is no where near Panama City. We get on it anyway and sleep the whole night.
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