Los Tres Muskateros Unite

A half-hour into my flight from Ft. Lauderdale to Guatemala City, I have a freak out moment..."Did I get on the wrong flight?!?!" Orbitz told me it should only take 45 minutes to arrive in Guat City and Perla (the half Guat/ half chinese nursing student sitting next to me) lets out a sigh of "ahh two more hours." Two hours? Oh yeah, two hour time difference...Well one lesson learned already and I haven't even gotten off the plane yet! The short-sided extent of my planning begins to ooze from my aura and leaves a little sweat stain of excitement. I laugh to myself through my nose and mutter an oh-too-familiar, "Ohh Tim."

We land, receive a good luck and exchange of information from Perla, grab my bag, and notice that my camel-back is has been snagged already. Oh well, I'll charge it to the Guatemalan game.

I'm greeted by my college undercover brother along with the third leg of our travelling tripod, Honest J. Salutations are short as we are shoved into a taxi to head to Antigua, one of the oldest colonial cities in Central America and a cherished UNESCO annointed site. Everything is moving rapidly in slow-motion as we rip around the ominous volcano splattered horizon towards Antigua. Here is where I am reminded of my strange gift that allows me to filter any and all overwhelming feelings into waves of adrenaline and excitement. My cheeks already hurt from the constant cheshiresque cheeseball of a grin that I have been sporting since I landed and cannot seem to contain. I feel my eyes popping out of their sockets because of sensory stimulation overload, I am as high as a kite, this is where I need to be, I forgot what life tastes like, yummy.

Guatemala City is the largest city in Central America, nestled in between live volcanoes and mountainous green foliage that appears to be a hybrid of tropical fauna and Mendocino Redwoods. Senor cab driver is reminiscent of every other cab captain I have encountered overseas; hang-on for dear life and enjoy the roller coaster ride of rights and lefts around the masses of chicken-toting vendors and wide-eyed Whities.

Wasting not time when we arrive in Antigua, my Peace-Corp companion takes me to "El Centro" that is of course, built around THE church of the city. I take the customary church and fountain

picture to get the touristy stuff out of the way and then have my first Spanish immersion experience, here we go! I get to practice my half-ass espanol with a local shoe-shining "digi" (what the gringos have so graciously dubbed the indigenous folks of the country) and play a game where we point out everything that is white. I should have paid more attention to Senora Engman in 8th grade Spanish one class, oh well I got this; bench, hat, shoe, face...oh yeah, I'm rolling now. My buddy C-Deff rolls his eyes as mine are beaming with glee as this is brand new to me, but annoying as hell to him. I guess being hounded for Quetzales (Guat Currency and mythical bird) for two and a quarter years can wear on you; no harm no foul.

Los Muketeros continue on to El Skybar where I am introduced to a familiar friend I will soon learn to love, Guatemala's national beer, El Gallo (which means rooster, or in USC-Alumni fashion, Gamecock)! Already on the right foot Guatemala. After a few welcome well-tequila shots we raise up our peace-pours to the sun and I radiate with the realization that this is no longer a year in the making wet dream. This moment is a tangible fabrication of everything I hoped it would be; a life changing perception of this wild wilderness of a world I worship. One more round bartender, this is going to be a long night.

Stargate to Self-Actualization

"Tim, I just woke you up 15 minutes ago, come on, you're gonna be late for your flight!" Whoa, this is too reminiscent of my middle school days where I would groan, close my eyes and chant, "I am invisible, I am invisible" in hopes that in fact, I could dupe my parents into thinking I teleported on the Magic School Bus to class. But wait! This isn't school anymore Timmy, I am off to embark on my Latin American romp of the century!

D-Day has finally arrived and I suddenly "reappear" with the quickness and fly to the shower to gather myself. "Ahh, this will probably be the last time I can pull the ol' lazy-boy-maneuver on the shower floor! I do some last minute parcel-stuffing into my bag, Momma runs through her maternal duty of making sure my backpack has zippers and ties some "flare" to it to make sure no other travel satchel at the terminal confuses theirs with mine. Watery eyes ensue along with the warmest miss-you-much kiss I have felt in a long time as Mother is sad but proud as her wide-eyed idealistic wanderlust of a son shuffles out of the door.

On que, "Rambling Man" pops up on the radio as if my Dad put together a "taking Tim to the airport mix" and we nervously peek at each other out of our peripherals and laugh. We exchange top 40 jokes, both of our minds in La-La land and watch as the signs for Reagan Airport seem to get bigger and brighter in the morning 5AM DC rush hour traffic. Guatemala is calling and with ticket in hand, I'm as ready as I will ever be to answer that call and chat for a month.

Cowboy hats, plaid shirts, sun-beaten brown faces, and i-pod touch toting gringos gather around the terminal gate to Guatemala City. I am engulfed in Spanish conversations, picking up the beginning and end end of sentences and laughing at the two toddlers anxiously attempting to deflate the perm that I'm sure their Latina mother spent some serious time on to show off to la familia when she lands.

Wow, talk about transition time. I am taking the first step out of my world and into theirs. In one hour, the Spanish subheadings I read on the Ft. Lauderdale airport's signs will magically change font to the more dominant and bold position as THE only form of public communication.

I take a deep breathe, exhale, click on the shuffle mode and whimsically walk through the Stargate to Self-Actualization. See you on the other side friends!