I make it aboard the plane, confirm with the stewardess this is the plane to Houston, Texas. It is always a hassle when you get on the wrong plane and end up in Timbuktu. I always like confirmation.
If anyone knows me, I am usually a reserved and quiet person. I have been reading this book called, When I Say No I Feel Guilty, to improve my ability to cope with people. After a few minutes in the air, I all of sudden felt different. Uninhibited. Without restraint. Cut loose. Liberated. It must of been a combination of the Pura Vida Costa Rican lifestyle and reading that book. I was without any inhibitions.
The stewardess comes by at that moment, and asks me, “How do you take your coffee?”. I never heard this odd grouping of words before. I immediately blurted in a confused tone, “How do I take my coffee??? I don’t know, they usually put it in a paper cup and I drink it through my yapper!”.
Another stewardess comes by with the forms you need to fill out for customs declarations. You know the dribble where they ask if you have been in close contact with farm animals, have fruit or other agriculture items, liquor, tobacco, or more than $10,000 dollars worth of currency or other financial instruments. The amiable stewardess asks me if I need one of the custom forms, I quickly quip with, “I don’t know, do I need one, you tell me, I’m new to this international travel stuff.”