the trip begins

as it almost always begins, with the Ugly American. jennifer and vanessa got a little too drunk on the plane and embarrassed even their meathead boyfriends with their antics.

"i am so pissed OFF at this lady in front of me right now," vanessa whined. "and i mean, of course she´s speaking SPANISH and i can´t tell her to move her ASS and let me off the FUCKING plane."

jennifer laughed, swaying in her seat. "i KNOW. dammit, this is stupid. i am, like, IRATE right now." their matching platinum blonde pigtails bobbed as their short-shorts rode further up their tan butts.

"is this backpack made for a three-year-old?" asked one of the meatheads as he struggled to wear a tiny pink bag.

"just shut UP and CARRY it," giggled one of them. "i´m too hot and IRATE to worry about it."


enough about them. i´m in a hostel in san jose right now called hostal pangaea. it´s a funky party hostel in a nice neighborhood, but all i´ve done so far is sleep. it was a long trip, involving two city layovers, a night in north hollywood, a new friend, and the new backscatter machine at the LA airport. brand name? rapiscan. i´m sure the company heard "RAP-i-scan" but it´s not a far stretch to "RAPE-i-scan" when you see the handily posted image of exactly how much of your naughty bits can be seen by the TSA when you walk through there. a lot of them, that´s all i need to say.

i´m off. did i mention that i managed to get myself sunburned before i even got here?

--pura vida!