Coming to my sister\’s place is like almost coming home. Sort of. She has been living \”independently\” for longer than I have. Note she\’s one year younger than me.

My flight to San Diego was long. It\’s odd to think that a year ago, I loved the idea of traveling. But now I dread the long wait at the airports, the stress of getting to the gate and pushing my way down the aisle in the plane. But the marvel that such a large metal thing can lift into the air still amazes me. Or maybe I just like to pretend I am a giant stomping around a world where cars look like ants and buildings look like toy blocks.

When I got to the San Diego airport, my sister was nowhere to be found. I called her cellphone, no answer. Scenarios propped up. Twenty minutes later, I was wandering up and down sidewalk under the hot \”winter\” sun, worrying…that I was stranded. I walked all the way down to Southwest thinking that she accidentally thoought I took that airline (since I did that the previous times I came from the SF bay). Of course, that worry also led to the fact that I ignored about 8 overhead pages for my name. My sister had forgotten her cellphone and had stood right next to the escalator. The one that I didn\’t take. Eventually, she was able to get hold of me (borrowing a stranger\’s cell) by 411-ing first Bio-Rad (to reach my dad) to get my number. Whoops. But all\’s well now. And I got real asian food.