It's my last day in the states. I'm writing this from my grandparents' condo in West Palm Beach, and tomorrow, I drive down to miami con mi familia and get on a long schlepp of a flight to Lima, Peru. Then, I camp out in the airport for seven hours or so (you can't get back into that airport easily, since they check everyone's passport coming back in). I found this website devoted to sleeping in the Lima airport, and apparently there is this little corner of the airport where the crazy, dirty backpackers congregate. I can only respond with optimism. Then, I catch this short LAN flight to Cusco. After landing, I will walk out of the plane, full of excitement and hope, and immediately be floored by the lack of oxygen at 14,000 feet. Later, recuperating from my edema-induced faint and subsequent fall down the jetbridge, I'll start gradually adapting to the climate(a good 60 degrees warmer than Boston) and make my way to my hostel. Then, I'll crash.
(Of course, I actually have no idea what'll happen. I guess I figure it out when I get there)