home

didnt sleep. apparently, i was now sleeping next to the highway. somehow, the stupid narrow italian street where pedestrians have to flatten themselves against the wall when a car passes by, turned into rush hour traffic.. after midnight. so much noise, there is honking and motors, and scooters, and bikes, so sleep is out of the question. finally died down around 4 am, but i have to get up in like half hour. screw it, i'm up. train isnt for another hour, so i am enjoying my cappuccino in the company of all men. train ride is uneventful (and on time!). check in. anotehr cappuccino. waste left over currency at the duty free (i wonder how much chocolate one can buy without looking suspicious?) fell asleep on super-short flight to duesseldorf (after another cup of coffee) next to the guy who was super confused about my origin, since i spoke german with the flight attendant, but read a perfectly english book. by the time we land, i need to board. there is a line at the passport control. crap. think about cutting the line, but, of course, they wheel 2 people in wheelchairs in front of me to jump the line. i can't get mad at handicapped people! finally get through. on the plane, sitting next to teh cutest little old german lady, who unfortunately smells like a little old lady (:( ) and needs help explaining everything about her seat. i'm singled out for my special meal. this lunch, i swear, was created by some creative artistic type because it's all orange. pickled potato/yellow pepper salad, slabs of polenta on top of yellow pepper/yellow zucchini something. it's gross, but looks bright :). while i napped my chemical induced nap, the little old lady got my immigration form: "i didnt know what language to get it in for you, so i just got you english." precious! i'm having mixed feelings. i'm ready to be home, shower and sleep in my own bed, maybe do some laundry. but this also means the end of fun and i'm freaking out. i dont want to go to work!! i dont want to fill out paperwork in preparation or pick out the kind of insurance i want! it's too real! i dont want to be responsible. i dont want to be a doctor! can't i just stay on the beach? the american security line is super long. the lady stamping my passport, for reasons of security i'm sure, asks me what i do in chicago. 'i'm a doctor' 'waht kind?" "ob/gyn?' was that really necessary? couldnt we have talked about something else to determine i am not a threat? get me back on the plane!