Si alguna vez comienzo a sufrir pérdidas de memoria, ya sea transitoria o permanente, he pensado que debo escribir algunas cosas para recordar. Nada de extraordinario, cosas no más que me han pasado alguna vez. Esta historia he decidido postearla en inglés (en realidad hago trampa porque fue una tarea de hace algunas semanas) para practicar un poco la escritura. Aquí va:
October 27, 2003.
The airplane couldn't land in LA airport because of a big fire nearby.
We arrived in San Francisco: I was travelling with a Costarican friend and in this place we met another chilean guy. His name was Miguel.
We had to wait in queue for six hours to check in at the airline counter. We were very tired, worried and hungry. That day we didn't get an answer about our flight to Stgo.
The airline took us to a hotel near the airport. They told us we would be called when the LA airport was opened again. We couldn't sleep so we decided to go to the airport. While we were waiting for the bus, Miguel met two japanese who were travelling to Chile too. The japanese could talk immediatly with the attendants and they made the arrangements for our connection to Chile.
We had to fly to Miami (another long story) and then to Stgo.
I had to say goodbye to my costarican friend in San Francisco and I continued my trip with Miguel and the two japanese (one of them couldn't speak English nor Spanish). All of them were complete strangers to me at the begining but then...