Today, I celebrate 10 years since the first time I set foot in the United States.
I only remember bits and pieces of the journey that led me here. It was pretty straightforward. The plane from Manila took a stop at Narita Airport. I dragged my bony 20-year old self to the smoker’s lounge and puffed away with fellow travelers. After waiting a bit, I hopped on the second leg of plane rides that landed me in rainy Sea-Tac for a connecting flight to cow-town Fresno.