I was lucky enough to go home in April. I also relate to gawking at how clean and organized everything was. I also realized that not much changes over the course of a year. The world goes on without you.
By Conor Sanchez
For the first five minutes after we walked off the plane in Atlanta, Michaela and I were all but missing our straw hats and overalls. We must have looked liked two country bumpkins strolling through Times Square for the first time.
Almost immediately we began gawking at the huge and cavernous terminals, feeling tiny walking through a space three times the average height of a house in Nicaragua. The bathrooms were spotless, the air-conditioning was frigid, and airport officials were strategically positioned on every corner telling us where to go and where to stand.
A thousand questions ran through my head. Has America always been this clean? Why is this building so cold? Since when do customs agents dress like they’re going into battle? I’ve only been gone for 13 months, so why does this feel so overwhelmingly weird?
Bit by bit, we were re-familiarized with various devices and…
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