The first thing I do is find out where I’m going.
My boyfriend is watching the in-flight movie but I’ve got the airline magazine in my hands, scanning and re-scanning the maps at the back. For some reason, the location of Puerto Rico does not want to stick in my mind. Near Cuba? South of Florida? Geography and globes and maps lure me—I want to know the world—so the fact that Puerto Rico is still an unknown feels itchy. All I know is that Hunter S. Thompson wrote Rum Diary after living in San Juan for a time. And anything for which my only reference point is Hunter S. Thompson surely needs more studying.
As we cruise at 37,000 feet, I try to guess the flight pattern from Dallas to San Juan. We must be flying along the coastlines of Louisiana and Mississippi, then down across the Gulf and over…
View original post 2,360 more words