you can't see me.

Arrival in Johannesburg is just short of 2 hours. The flying experience has been eventful and I've met some great people! -That's probably what I would be saying if I was on flight 591, in the air about to land. But I'm not on that plane. I haven't even gone airborne yet. My flight at 3:45 p.m. yesterday was delayed 10 minutes, then half an hour, until 4:30. We boarded, and got to the end of the runway, until our pilot came on overhead announcing that we were ground-stopped for 45 minutes, in which case they stopped the jet engines and ran the air conditioning. The next announcement was that we had to wait for another half hour. I was fine with the wait because I had an emergency exit seat and had fun making small talk about wacky inventions like the the telekinetic obstacle course and the garden yeti with an army dude next to me with old-school cartoon tattoos flooding his left arm. Then another announcement was made saying we were delayed for another hour, but we were going to drive back to the terminal and get off. By that time I had missed my connecting flight from Detroit to Amsterdam, and by the time we were allowed to board the plane again there was no way I would be able to make my flight from Amsterdam to Johannesburg in time either. Waiting in line behind the 30 or so people that got off before me, it wasn't until 7:45 when I was finally able to get to the counter to reschedule my flight. Operating as a mediator between my Dad and the gate attendant, I easily became stressed and exhausted, and came home so we could just call Delta and get a new itinerary. That was an experience within itself, and I'll just leave it at that. But now I fly out tomorrow morning, at 6:45 a.m. to Atlanta where I have a 10 hour layover, and a nearly 22-hour flight straight into Johannesburg.
Today has been very redeeming compared to yesterday. I slept for a straight 13 hours, and have enjoyed the mild weather and sunshine. I've laid low, trying to act as if I'm not in Grand Rapids (because if I had it my way I wouldn't be here right now). Thinking about today, I think this must be how an illegal immigrant feels. I'm not working or anything, but I don't want anyone to know that I am here and I am avoiding anyone knowing that. In a way I also feel like I'm not supposed to be here because I've already been sent off and everyone already said their goodbyes and expects me to be gone. I thought about going to the YMCA tonight, pursuing the thrill of being discovered by someone that knows I'm not supposed to be here. But then again, Glee is on in an hour. I decided that I need to satisfy my last bit of Gleekiness before I go, and that washing my jeans I spilled my shake on last night is necessary, as I plan on wearing the same outfit I've worn yesterday and today tomorrow...