MIA

Bienvenido a Miamiiiii.

Miami International Airport and I, of course, found the Starbucks. Success. It's near painful sitting here at the gate for Medellin, and looking outside. The skies are clear and the wind is low and I overheard someone say it was in the 80s. And I'm stuck here.

I'm also getting A LOT of stares from all of the beach goers returning home due to the fact that I'm walking around "Miami" bundled in a scarf, boots, and a winter coat. Meanwhile, tan little girls dart around me in short shorts and sandals and old men shuffle by in hawaiian button-up shirts and loafers. As they stare I just want to scream "I'm from New York City ok?!? This IS an international airport."

As always, the person sitting next to me on the plane was interesting. She was definitely older but you could tell she did not want to be. Her crazy long fingernails with swirly designs and tight jumpsuit led me to this conclusion. Scary. And I had to listen to her talk to me and the other person sitting nearby about how "they better not have so and so store in Turks and Cacaos, otherwise she's going to go crazy spending and not be able to control herself." She also bragged at length about the size of her suitcase and how much clothing she brought, ending with the "joke": "People must think, 'that chick is high maintenance!'" As if.

Boarding in an hour.