Ah, Hispañola. The second largest island in the Caribbean. Home to the biggest mountain in the area. A farm for Major League Baseball. Half French-speaking Haiti. Half Spanish-speaking Dominican Republic. I'll be in the latter.
The first challenge is getting there. I hate flying internationally with stops. Taking domestic legs in the US is nothing short of misery, especially when you're routed through hubs like Newark. As in New Jersey. Yeah, the Garbage State.
So here I am in the terminal at Newark Liberty airport. My traveling companions, Elena and Jason, are taking taking alternate shifts with me, exploring what the vast terminal has to offer. J has located a venerable East Coast favorite - Dunkin Donuts. I'm still waiting for Elena to get back so I can take my shift.
In the meantime, I've found that there's wi-fi, playing with Photoshop, recharging my iPod, and totally geeking out over the fact that I've got my Powerbook with me.
This is probably because I'm delerious. I hardly got any sleep on the flight over from San Francisco. They were showing Aquamarine on the plane. I was busy being fascinated and appalled by a guy wearing shooting earmuff protector thingies and a hand-pumpable inflatable neck pillow. I'm surrounded by Jersey accents. 2.5 hours 'til boarding time.
See you on the other side.
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