Hello, and welcome to my blog. I hope you enjoy my stories about going to China. But first, a disclaimer: This blog will not be perfect. I tell that to myself as much as to anyone reading this, because I don't like to do things--especially writing--without doing it as well as possible. Unfortunately, though, I won't have time while I'm in China to compose great passages. So, I thank anyone who intends to follow this blog, since it will be more an act of your love than a demonstration of my ability. This post might be okay, but there's no way I can manage quality and consistency.
Self-deprecation (even though I'm serious about it) isn't all I have to talk about, however. I'd like to move on to the most exciting part of my adventure: the adventure part.
I left Orlando this afternoon on a plane to D.C. and am now composing this first blog entry during my flight to Chicago. Once I get there, I'll check into a hotel until crazy early tomorrow morning I'll meet up with people from my program and start the really intense part. We arrive in San Francisco before noon, have a few hours layover, and then start our thirteen hour flight to Shanghai. Yes, thirteen hours. That's about 46,000 silent ticks on Verizon's clocks (although once I leave the country my cell phone will be useless and I'll need to buy one there). That's more than a month's worth of McNamara, with less legroom. That's twenty-six episodes of Barney, and since kids who still measure time that way probably can't reliably count to twenty-six, it shows you how close to forever thirteen hours is.
And yet, thirteen hours is still not enough time to find a comfortable position in your seat. I was practicing on my flights today, trying to find a decent way to sleep. I have a small body, so I figured I'd have no problem, but almost every way I lean over my legs fall asleep, and with the .7° tilt that airplane seats recline, leaning back didn't help. When I fly with Andrew and Melanie, we all just lean on each other, but tomorrow I won't know anyone well enough to do that.
Well, well, I'll quit complaining now. I'm only complaining out of excitement. After all, when I went to Brazil after 10th grade, we had a nine hour flight and while it was torturous, I'm still here. (Otherwise it would be murder, not torture, see.)
I'll post again from the other side. If you'd like, you leave me a comment to let me know you were here.