#then i proceeded to check flights to his city over spring break

[strxwberry-skiess]

no because i commented on this cute tattoo artist’s instagram post about getting one of his designs tattooed and like the pathetic person i am, i still have his response pulled up in my notification center because damn boy, it kinda gave me some little butterflies in my tummy

[sankta-starkova]

LETTERMAN

026; spring break

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summary: the one where ej and andy realise that there may be some romantic feelings between them that hadn't been there before, or had they? the new year test this revelation

wordcount: 1.1k

Andy and EJ sat in Ashlyns house lounging around in the couch. The Caswell parents had left for spring break.

Andys family had gone on a mini road trip to Denver for the weekend to pick up her brother so they let her stay with Ashlyn and EJ - with Ashlyn supervising of course.

Andy, Ashlyn and EJ turned the camera on, all three of them appearing on screen with goofy faces before Andy and EJ ran to their respective screens.

They looked at the screens and saw Miss Jenn, Nini, Carlos and Seb already waiting

"Our parents all went to Park City together and left us to watch the house," Ashlyn explained.

"And my family went on a little road trip for the weekend so I get to stay round the Caswells," Andy said, waving her hands around excitedly

"Well no funny business you too," Nini said with a chuckle, "I never got to congratulate you guys on the relationship,"

"Thanks, it means a lot," Andy said, smiling at her, "But how can I when he looks like that,"

She winked across the room, looking at him in that teal tank top. The three laughed, Ashlyn making a disgusted face.

Kourtney and Big Red turned on their computers, apologising for being late and saying there was a problem in the kitchen.

Gina also appeared on the screen, in an airport, "Sorry, my flights delayed so I'm stuck here," she explained.

"Well I hope you're safe. Now we're only missing Ricky, Nini, have you heard from him?" Miss Jenn asked.

Everyone knew about their breakup and the whole group went silent, "I think Ricky is taking some alone time with his mum," Andy explained, Big Red nodding in agreement.

"Well I'm sure you're all wondering why I've gathered you all here. Opening night is three weeks away so I needed to remind you the stakes are high," Miss Jenn said before proceeding on a rant.

She hoped everyone was having a good Spring Break before they all hung up, saying their goodbyes.

"I'm gonna call Gina," Andy said a little bit later, the girl running off to her temporary room.

She sat down on the bed, calling Gina as she looked around. It was great, living with one of her best friends and her boyfriend.

"How is spring break G?" Andy asked once Gina picked up.

"I'm stuck at the airport and also possibly stuck in character," she explained, showing Andy the airport.

"Ask her the question," Ashlyn said as her and EJ stood outside of the room, smiling at them.

"Is that Ash?" Gina asked and Andy moved the camera so the three were all in shot, "Hi Ash,"

"Fine, Ashlyn wants to paint EJs nails for a spring break project. He needs a second opinion, I've already told him it will be hot, what do your think?" Andy asked, smiling at her friends.

"All the yes, go for it," Gina said, looking at them with huge smiles on her face.

I told you," Ashlyn said, smiling at them "I am an artistic genius,"

"Well you guys enjoy your makeovers, I'm gonna try to get to Lousiana, wish my luck," Gina said, crossing her fingers.

"You're Gina Porter, you don't need luck," Andy said before they said their goodbyes and hung up.

She went and text Ricky, checking up on him but once again realising there was still no response, Andy feeling deflated.

"Now, it's makeover time," Andy said, running over and going to see EJ and Ashlyn.

"Always said you look better in my letterman than I do but damn Ands, you look good in the Duke sweatshirt too," EJ complimented.

Andy blushed, smacking him over the head as she walked into the lounge with the cousins.

"Lets paint your nails," she said, a huge smile on her face as he wrapped his arms around her.

"And I have the perfect colours," he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

THE THREE SAT ON SCREEN TOGETHER, looking at the group meeting of everyone - except Ricky and Gina.

"I've called you all here for a very serious reason," Miss Jenn said, "North High has dropped a video on their Instagram,"

Nini shared her screen and they watched the video of Lily narrating that East High were useless, featuring clips of the school and them on spring break.

"Did you just watch what I watched! That was insane," Carlos exclaimed, looking horrified.

"We just need a plan. We need to play by their rules but with a twist - something subtle but public," Miss Jenn explained.

"We're on it Miss Jenn," Nini said before they all hung up.

A little while later, Andy and Ashlyn were sitting on the couch when they got a call from Nini.

Behind them, EJ was rummaging through a box of all their childhood toys and disrupting their meeting.

"We are in the middle of crisis EJ and Ash is trying to work, stop it," Andy said sternly, throwing a cushion at him.

"No you stop it," he said, throwing it right back. Nini chuckled at them.

"EJ found some old stuff we used to play with in the attic, even old photo books which had an alarming amount of pictures of Andy in them," Ashlyn said, chuckling to herself.

"Yeah, now he's turned into a six year old boy," Andy said, looking back at him as he placed a Frisbee on his head.

"I am so obsessed with all of you," Nini said with a smile as she watched the three bickering.

"Hi Nini," EJ said in a high pitched voice as he got out a doll that Ashlyn used to play with.

"So, how are we dealing with North High? Cause I'm spinning over here," Ashlyn asked, trying to ignore EJ.

Nini suggested doing a song, asking if Ashlyn could help her with the lyrics, "But only if you have the time," she said, not wanting to take up their day.

EJ put his hand in frame, a sock puppet on it as he mimicked it kissing Andy on the cheek.

"Yeah, I think I have the time," Ashlyn said before turning to Andy, "Can you babysit your boyfriend for a bit?"

"Gladly, great to see you Nini," she said before turning to EJ, "Now stop that,"

He chuckled, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, "You stop it," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"We're on camera," she said, pushing him away as they heard Ashlyn and Nini laugh about how childish and clingy EJ was.

Eventually, after a lot of work, they worked out a dance and filmed the video, the group dancing and singing to the words they wrote.

Taglist:

@maggiecc @hesfasttandshesweird

[leiasfanaccount648]

Good Times

MJ (Michelle Jones) x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is for @starksparker’s Summer Writing Challenge! I hope you all enjoy it.

Prompt: Song #6 - Good Times by All Time Low

Word Count: 5350

Warnings/Contains: Angst, fluff, slow burn, mentions of protests/statements about LGBTQ+/gender/body type(?) equality, abortion, and rape (some of the news/protests mentioned are news that’s actually happened recently in Europe and America so I apologize in advance if things don’t exactly match up once this has been posted and/or you’re against anything mentioned in this). This (technically) takes place during FFH, but I’ve changed it to where it’s just the class all going on the school trip to Europe and nothing more. All in all, it doesn’t contain any spoilers for FFH. Endgame spoilers are hinted at but not actually said.

Summary: As a graduation gift, (Y/N) gets to join her friends on their summer school trip to Europe. As the weeks go by and destinations change, she starts to view things in a different light. Something about Europe changes her, and maybe someone else.

“Passengers for flight 328 to London, England may now start boarding. Again, passengers for flight 328 to London, England may now start boarding.”

(Y/N) couldn’t believe it. When confirming the paperwork, she didn’t believe it. Packing for the past two weeks straight, she still didn’t believe it. Arriving at the airport, going through security, waiting by the gate, it all just seemed so unrealistic. She had never been able to do something so extravagant. She wasn’t just going to one place outside the country for a week, but all over Europe for 3 weeks. It was a big deal to her.

Growing up, she lived in New York but never had the chance to ever travel. Maybe a spring break or summer vacation every other year or so, but everything seemed to be the same with the same people. When she heard about the summer trip to Europe that her class could go on, she begged everyone in her family to let her go. Forget any and all possible birthday and Christmas gifts. This was the dream of a lifetime, and to get to go with (hopefully) some friends of hers? Even better.

All her friends, as well as her family that paid for her to go, all decided to go that very year they were told of the trip. They thought it would be a good idea as a way to relax and have fun after everything that had happened over the last 5 years. Even though she had been planning and getting ready for the trip all school year long, it was still so unrealistic. Imagine going on a once in a lifetime opportunity; it feels as though it may get stripped away from you at any second even though you know it’s stuck in your grasp. For once, the cards, more like her plane ticket and passport, were in (Y/N)’s hands as she stood and gathered her carry on luggage to take on the plane.

She looked over at her classmates, smiling wider as she took a moment to look at all of them individually. Flash was vlogging on his phone about the pre-trip (he almost got yelled at for trying to record while going through security); Ned was looking at a travel guide of different European cities; and then there was Peter, looking strangely relaxed more than excited for the trip. Maybe he was just as glad as (Y/N) for a chance at a new take of scenery to clear her head.

As she went to go get in line to board, she felt something bump into her side that almost knocked her over. She looked to her left, and saw MJ putting her backpack on her shoulders. She was smiling a little to herself, and it made (Y/N) happy that MJ was physically expressing how happy she was, even a little bit. It was rare to see her smile, and any friend smiling is a moment worth saving.

MJ noticed (Y/N) glance towards her and her smile quickly turned into a slight smirk. “I got enough books and movies downloaded on my laptop for both plane rides. What about you?” She gestured to the backpack that (Y/N) had on her shoulders. It wasn’t filled to the brim or as heavy as MJ’s but still contained all the essentials for the plane rides as well as the tours around the cities they would soon take.

(Y/N) shrugged. “Just a couple books, headphones, a small pillow and blanket to nap for a portion of the flights.” She laughed softly to herself, adjusting the straps on her shoulders. “Just things I know I’ll definitely need.” She smiled, unable to contain her excitement. The actual trip hadn’t even started but she had only flone on a place maybe 1 or 2 other times in her life. This was just as exciting.

MJ chuckled at (Y/N)’s words, finding it amusing. “Feel free to ask for a book if you get bored.” She walked ahead to get in line. (Y/N) stared at her a moment longer before deciding to do the same.

Walking through the hallway towards the plane, (Y/N) admired the artwork of New York City along the walls. She heard Flash continuing to vlog and other classmates chat amongst themselves, causing her to smile. This was really happening.

She finally reached her seat, that was sadly in the middle out of the three but she’d make it work, and got herself settled in.

“You mind moving your legs?”

(Y/N) looked up towards the aisle and saw MJ looking down at her. “Oh, yeah, sorry.” She laughed softly, pulling her backpack from the floor to rest in her lap so that MJ could get through. She was lucky to have the window seat. MJ didn’t say another word as she sat down, but (Y/N)’s attention was turned elsewhere.

“Hey guys, you excited?”

(Y/N) looked behind her, smiling when she saw Ned leaning over her seat to talk to her and MJ. (Y/N) stood and leaned against the seat with one arm so that she could face MJ and Ned. “Very.” She grinned before noticing Peter was sitting in his seat next to the window and messing with his backpack to get his headphones out. MJ replied to Ned, not bothering to turn around as she was getting one of her many books from her bag too. “Yep, you know it.”

(Y/N) giggled at MJ’s actions before turning to Peter. “What about you, Peter? Excited about the trip?”

Peter looked up at (Y/N), a small smile on his face. He honestly looked tired yet at the same time so at ease. “Yeah, it’s been awhile since I’ve gone on a proper vacation.” He laughed softly, causing (Y/N) to do the same.

“I know what you mean. We’re finally getting to finally leave New York and see a new part of the world, and not even just one! I’ve always lived this normal city life with nothing that exciting. I want to be able to have experiences and make memories from the good times I’ll have.” (Y/N) smiled to herself, glancing at the ground before looking back up between Ned and Peter. “And the fact I have my friends here makes it even better.”

She didn’t know what she said to cause Peter to smile so wide, but she’s glad she did. “Well, I’ve heard Berlin is beautiful so I’d look forward to it if I were you.”

~      ~      ~

About 2 hours into the 7 ½ hour long flight, (Y/N) was starting to grow tired. The teacher that was taking them said that flying overnight to London was somehow cheaper for the school, and students, to pay for so needless to say that most of the class was asleep around whatever time zone they were currently in while flying over the Atlantic. (Y/N) managed to stay awake for the first 2 hours by watching a movie on her laptop, but she couldn’t stop yawning near the end. Flash was next to her in the aisle seat, passed out and snoring a little bit (thank god she didn’t forget her headphones last minute), and MJ was somehow still wide awake reading her book. (Y/N) was about to close her eyes and give into falling asleep well but MJ’s sudden movements brought her back to staying awake. She looked to her, pulling her headphones off and placing them around her neck. “Good book?”

MJ nodded. “Yep. Just finished it. Then again I did start it this morning and it wasn’t that long.” She put the book back in her bag, reaching down to grab a small blanket from the bottom of it. If (Y/N) hadn’t known any better she would have suspected that MJ had a bottomless bookbag like Hermione from Harry Potter (which she had seen MJ read despite her saying that she doesn’t like to get into that much popular culture).

MJ then proceeded to pull out her sketchbook and turned to a certain page. (Y/N) glanced down at the words written on it, seeing the titles of the books she brought with her. She checked off the one she just read, writing a number next to it, probably a rating she gave it. “Mind waking me up when we get there?”

(Y/N) nodded as MJ as she put her sketchbook away. “Yeah, totally.” MJ grabbed the small plane pillow that was under her seat before leaning back against the still open window (despite it now being night time where they were), pillow behind her head. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile as she stared at MJ a moment longer before going back to finishing her movie. She couldn’t help but feel so comfortable around her.

(Y/N) woke up about 5 hours later when she felt Flash next to her jolt awake. Apparently there had been some turbulence causing him to wake up quite startled. Flash proceeded to pull out his phone and took a quick video, whispering (kinda loud) about what just happened before proceeding to play a game on his phone. (Y/N) meanwhile had heard a ring come from above, meaning that the captain or a flight attendant was about to speak. She pulled her headphones off just in time to hear what was being said.

“If everyone could please put their seat belts back on, we will be landing in about 20 minutes at the London International Airport.”

(Y/N) had never felt herself smile so wide. They were here. She turned to MJ, remembering to wake her up, but hesitated when she saw the sun peak over the horizon, shine through the open window, and momentarily blind her. She moved her head back against the seat to avoid the sun’s light and saw MJ still asleep in her seat. She had moved slightly so her head was resting right next to the window. She honestly looked beautiful like this. Content, sun barely hitting her, and just at ease. (Y/N) pulled out her phone and snapped a couple pictures. She noticed after taking the third one that MJ had one eye open and was smirking at the camera. (Y/N) froze, flustered.

“You enjoying the view?” MJ didn’t move, still smirking, but (Y/N) was quick to put her phone down, feeling her cheeks heat up from embarrassment. Hopefully it wasn’t too noticeable with the sun now hitting her face again as well as the shade from the plane wall.

“Sorry, I was just wanting to get some pictures of everyone on the plane.” She laughed softly, quickly getting up to see if Ned and Peter, who were already looking out the window in hopes of seeing the city, were awake. (Y/N) smiled, pulling her phone out again. “Guys,” the boys looked up at (Y/N), “smile.” She held her phone up sideways, camera app open. They smiled wide at her as she snapped a couple pictures. “Thanks.” She smiled, sitting back down in her seat. “I’ll be sure to send them to you guys.”

She glanced back at MJ, who was stretching in her seat and putting her blacket away,and  gestured to her phone. “Did you wanna see the picture I took?”

MJ shrugged. “Sure.” She leaned over to look down at (Y/N)’s phone. She tried to hold back a smile but couldn’t help but do the opposite. She loved how the picture turned out. “Nice.” She adjusted in her seat, seeing the seatbelt light on. She put hers back on, looking to (Y/N). “Are we landing soon?”

(Y/N) nodded, putting hers back on as well. “Yep. Captain said about 20 minutes.”

During said 20 minutes, (Y/N) couldn’t help but look out the window with MJ to try and spot any famous landmarks. She pulled her phone out again and started taking pictures from the view of the window. Once the plane landed, her and her friends grabbed their stuff as quickly as possible. After all, the quicker they got to their hotel, the more time they got to possibly see a little bit of the city.

Getting off the plane, (Y/N) admired the wall art of the hallway leading from the plane to the airport. It was different than the one in New York, showing Big Ben and the London Bridge instead of the Statue of Liberty and Times Square. She really was here. As they walked through the airport, the teacher was explaining how they needed to stay together and wait for the buses to take them to the hotel, but (Y/N) was too busy admiring everything, and they were only in the airport.

When they finally arrived at the hotel, it was just as amazing. (Y/N) was taking pictures on her phone while they were getting assigned to their rooms (the school organized it to where they had enough double bedrooms so that 3-4 people could all sleep in the same room). She was sharing one with MJ, Betty, and a junior that Betty apparently knew. Once everyone had gotten settled into their rooms, the teacher handed everyone a schedule of their plans in London based off what everyone wanted to do in the city. As for today, everyone was allowed to go look around the general area near the hotel as long as they were with a “buddy.” MJ wasted no time getting on her phone once she finished unpacking for the few days they were in the city.

“What’re you planning to do?” (Y/N) asked, laying down on the bed next to where MJ sat.

“Going to a protest held down the street.” MJ stood, grabbing another backpack she brought. She looked through it before heading out.

“What’s the protest for?” (Y/N) followed her out of the room, making sure to grab her phone and backpack that now contained the hotel room key and any other travelling essentials inside.

“Well there are two of them actually. There’s one for LGBT rights and gender equality, and then one for the women that are getting raped in the city.” MJ paused once they reached the elevator and pushed the button to go down. She turned to face (Y/N) with a serious expression. “Did you know that an American tourist got raped last week near Trafalgar Square and got severe injuries due to it happening? And a local 12 year old girl was raped not too long ago either in a park mid day?”

(Y/N) was speechless. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. The fact that everyday tourists and kids alike being treated this way is awful. At least they don’t have to deal with things similar to back home.”

MJ wasn’t wrong. Back home the issue of both abortion and rape laws were still being discussed all over the country, mostly down south, but who knows what the New York state government is going to do about the controversy.

(Y/N) decided to change the subject, not wanting to think about it much further. “And what about the other one? Anything in particular happen for that one to start up?” The elevator opened and the two walked inside. MJ simply shrugged, leaning back against the wall of the elevator.

“Not really. They’re just doing similar stuff like what we used to do before our government finally legalized gay marriage in all the states. But now we’re back to fighting for equal rights for all people.”

(Y/N) watched MJ cross her arms and look down at the elevator floor. She knew how much these things got to MJ and it hurt her to see her friend like this. (Y/N) even remembers going to pride marches with MJ before the legalization of gay marriage. They were both gay but had only come out to one another at that point. It was things like that that really started their friendship. They weren’t best friends, but they got along and were able to talk about basically anything. Once the legalization happened, they both came out to their friends and spent the whole day in the city celebrating. In that moment, (Y/N) knew that MJ wanted to keep winning like that and make sure that everyone got basic and civil rights no matter who they were. She didn’t want future generations to have to fight and struggle like they did. Her distant relatives made a difference before, and she wanted to do the same wherever she went.

The elevator finally opened and MJ began to walk out before eyeing (Y/N). “You wanna join me?”

(Y/N) came back from reminiscing about the past and nodded. “Yeah, definitely.” She followed MJ out of the elevator. “Just like old times, you know?” She laughed softly, causing MJ to smile a little as well. “Yep.” She briefly recalled the same memories that (Y/N) just did. “The good, old times.”

~      ~      ~

As the days went by, (Y/N) had seen just about everything she possibly could. Big Ben, the London Bridge, Trafalgar Square, and so much more. Her and MJ even took a small portion of one day to go see 221B Baker Street (since (Y/N) loved Sherlock and claimed that she had to see it before they left the city). (Y/N) couldn’t have asked for anything more. Their last night in the city was different, however.

(Y/N) knew that there was so much more of the trip to come, but at the same time she didn’t want to leave London. But hey, all good things must come to an end sometime, right?

That evening, the group got to see a play after having dinner at a fancy restaurant, and the performance was honestly amazing. Sadly, at the end, Flash decided to vlog on their way out and cause a slight disturbance in the lobby when everyone was leaving. While the teacher was sorting that out, (Y/N) decided to go back into the theatre to take a couple pictures and admire the architecture.

“How many pictures have you taken of London alone now?”

(Y/N) jumped a little, not expecting to see MJ walk up to her. She laughed softly, looking down at her phone and scrolling through her photo album. “Probably near 200 on my phone, and maybe 50 on my camera back at the hotel. I can’t help it though, I mean,” she laughed, more wholeheartedly, taking a couple steps and gesturing to all the open, and now empty, space in the theatre. “It’s just gorgeous! Can you blame me?” She smiled at MJ, even happier to see her smile as well. “This place is just so pretty for being such an old building.”

(Y/N) looked up at the ceiling and admired the artwork on it. She took a couple pictures of it before looking back at MJ, who was honestly another breathtaking sight to behold. Her hair was half up and half down as she wore a floral long sleeve shirt with a pair of jeans. She still looked beautiful even if most people would’ve considered that a normal look for most girls. But MJ was not like most girls. (Y/N) grinned and held her phone back up, facing MJ this time, and making her a little confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Capturing pretty sites.”

“Do I suddenly have enough value for you to take pictures of me whenever you want?”

(Y/N)’s eyes widen in realization, putting her phone down immediately. “No, no! Sorry, I-It’s not that, I-” (Y/N) stumbled over her words, not meaning to offend her friend. She stopped when she heard MJ laugh softly with her words. “I’m just messing with you.”

(Y/N) smiled nervously in relief, trying to come up with something to say but all that came out was a small breathless laugh. Thankfully MJ was able to speak again before (Y/N) embarrassed herself even further. “You look pretty too.”

(Y/N) felt her heart begin to race and cheeks to blush a little as she heard MJ’s words. She couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

~      ~      ~

As the days went by of visiting different cities, (Y/N) couldn’t help but marvel at all the sights they encountered. It was as if each place was prettier than the next. But one thing remained prettier over all of the cities landmarks, and that was MJ. Each plane ride they sat next to one another to talk about their favorite places from the city they were just at and share what they wanted to see in the next one. At each hotel, they’d room together and see if there were any other protests to go to or just read books before going to sleep. It was as if they were becoming inseparable, and (Y/N) didn’t want it to end.

The next, and final, place they were going was Venice, Italy. They had just gotten off their flight from Paris, France and everyone was excited yet sad about their final destination before having to head home at the end of the week. Like the other places, (Y/N) took pictures of different things in the airport and the busy yet lively streets outside it. She had even managed to get a picture of MJ as she looked up the street before the bus taking them to their hotel picked them up. She smiled to herself as she looked at the picture, finding MJ even more beautiful than before. She didn’t know what really caused her to suddenly feel this way, but she was glad she did.

But what about after the trip? Would they still be as close as they had become over the trip? Would they even get to still see each other once they go to college in the coming years? What would happen when they went back home to New York?

(Y/N) was brought out her thoughts when she felt someone nudge her arm. “(Y/N), the bus is here.” She looked over and watched Peter look at her as he was walking back towards the bus. “Let’s go.”

When they got to the hotel, (Y/N) proceeded to take pictures of the place, but her thoughts from earlier just wouldn’t leave. Even if things were the same here once they got back home, did MJ feel the same way about her? She always kept giving (Y/N) mixed signals and she didn’t know what to do at this point.

Back in the hotel room, everyone decided to go down to the pool after dinner before lights out was called, but (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she should go down or not. Her mind was too focused on other things. She knew it was stupid to get so worked up over this, but she just couldn’t help it. She finished dinner with her friends down in the hotel lobby early so that she could try and clear her head of her thoughts back up in the room, but nothing was working. She tried reading one of the books MJ let her borrow during the trip, but when she saw the little notes left by MJ in the blank spaces of certain pages, her heart turned in want even more. At this point, she didn’t know whether she hated herself for her feelings or not.

Deciding to get some fresh air, she stepped out on the small balcony attached to the room and sat in one of the chairs. The sun was almost completely set but the view of the city was still beautiful, making her think about the town they were in and what it’d be like to live there. Eventually, she was able to push her thoughts from earlier enough to the side to finally decide that going down to the pool would be good for her. Maybe a proper change of atmosphere was what she needed. She walked back into the room and grabbed her swimsuit to change when Betty and MJ walked into the room.

“You getting ready to swim, (Y/N)?” Betty asked, going to grab her suit as well to change into. (Y/N) simply nodded, saying a short yes as she walked into the bathroom to change. She didn’t notice it but MJ watched (Y/N) walk into the bathroom, glancing down at the swimsuit in her hands. She recognized it all too well.

About 2 years ago, they attended a protest together and one of the big debates was on women’s body types and how the entertainment industry stereotyped too much. (Y/N) had the fun idea to go to different stores to try on different clothes they liked but that media didn’t like them wearing, take pictures, and post them on some of her social media accounts. Low and behold, there was one employee at one of the stores that told both of them to put back the swimsuits since they “didn’t suit them at all” and tried to give them different options. MJ wasn’t having any of their bullshit and called the employee out on it. She even went as far as to buy the two suits that her and (Y/N) picked out. She wouldn’t admit it either, but she thought the swimsuit that (Y/N) picked out for herself suited her perfectly.

When MJ saw (Y/N) come out of the bathroom changed and ready to go, she couldn’t help but smile to herself, both at the memories and how (Y/N) looked. Betty beat MJ to the compliments. “(Y/N) that looks great on you! Where’d you get it?”

“Thanks, but I honestly don’t remember.”

That was a lie. She experienced the same flashback MJ thought back on, and it, too, made her smile. Even if they only stay friends, or part ways completely, she would never forget those memories and other good times spent with MJ.

After the pool party was over and lights out was called, the girls headed back to their room as did their other classmates. Back at the room, Betty called dibs on getting in the shower first, leaving (Y/N) and MJ alone in the room. (Y/N) decided on some more fresh air and went back out to the balcony to look over the city. This was her last few days in Europe and she wanted to make the most of it, but her mind was back to being filled with thoughts of MJ.

A couple minutes later, (Y/N) felt eyes on her and she smiled to herself.

“Sketching people in crisis?” She turned around, laughing softly as she looked at MJ through the open doorway.

“How’d you know?” MJ’s small smirk/smile was back and (Y/N) loved every part of it.

“I’m the said person in crisis, how else would I know?” She looked back over the city, leaning over the railing a little bit as she looked at the small river flowing by the hotel. The class was scheduled to take a boat tour later this week, actually. MJ’s voice brought her back from her thoughts.

“What kind of crisis we dealing with here? Financial? Existential?” MJ held back a laugh, setting her sketchbook down. (Y/N) simply shook her head and looked back over the balcony, knowing that she was joking around. “No,” she hesitated. Should she bring it up? Might as well get it out of the way before it’s too late, right? “I know it sounds stupid, but more like a love crisis.”

“Is it me?”

(Y/N) looked back at MJ, shocked. Before she could get a word in, MJ spoke up again.

“I mean, it’s,” she shrugged, “kinda obvious.”

The look on her face read as though it wasn’t a big deal, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Was anyone else able to tell? But, in the words of MJ herself, she was just very observant, and there was no way in getting away with lying to MJ once she found out the truth.

“I-I mean,” (Y/N) fully turned around and leaned back against the railing, but she couldn’t look MJ in the eye. “Is it bad that I possibly like you?” She laughed softly, clearly worried and nervous but nonetheless let herself continue to talk about the issue at hand. “Is it bad that I don’t want to leave these places because I’ve grown so close to you and don’t want to say goodbye once we get back home?” She began pacing a little on the balcony. She couldn’t stop the train of thoughts that were leaving her lips to rant about how she felt.

“I always thought we were just casual friends, but this trip has made me see you in a different light because of all the good times I’m having with you. It’s reminding me of the times we’ve spent together before, and I want to make more memories like that with you. The first protest we attended together, the time we ironically went shopping. And then there’s the small things like working on class work with you and finding funny ways of remembering things.” She paused, taking a deep breath and looking at MJ with a sad smile. “But in the end, it feels as though I won’t ever see you again even though we still go to school together, and it hurts more than I thought it would. I never want to leave each place because of you and the fact that I’ve fallen for you even more from hanging out with you so much in each of them, but I know it’s eventually going to happen.” Another pause. “But please, tell me what your thoughts are on all of this because I’ve been ranting for too long and need to know how you feel before I possibly embarrass myself even further.” (Y/N) laughed nervously, finally finishing her ‘speech’ of emotions.

MJ had kept her full attention on (Y/N) the entire time, not realizing how she was actually feeling until (Y/N) had started to tell her everything. To her, (Y/N) seemed to be just like another person getting a small crush. Out of nowhere and immediate, but this seemed to be more than just a petty crush. She wouldn’t push it as far as love, but she was definitely honest and real with her feelings. MJ’s feelings weren’t as strong, but she, too, felt something there.

“I mean, I don’t like getting too close to people, but you make me want to be close to you.” She smiled, glancing at the floor. “Having feelings isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and the fact that you have them for me is honestly flattering.” MJ laughed softly, smiling to herself more genuine than usual. She looked up at (Y/N), meeting her gaze. “I wouldn’t mind giving this a chance.”

~      ~      ~

Over the next few days, MJ and (Y/N) spent time together as usual, but their friends could tell they seemed to be getting closer. They sat next to one another at every meal, talked about other interests they didn’t already know about one another, and either held hands or looped their pinky’s as they walked side by side one another. (Y/N) had even managed to get a couple pictures with MJ and herself (with her permission of course).

It felt as though those few days were filled with more memories than the others they had already experienced.

When it became time for the flight back home, they either leaned on one another as they slept or watched one of the many movies that MJ had on her laptop. The entire time they held hands as well, enjoying the casual yet intimate moment for the both of them.

They were sad to leave Europe, everyone was, but the two knew that the trip was only the beginning of all the memories and good times that were yet to come back home.

[catalinda04]

Carried Away Chapter 62: A Can of Biscuit Dough

Masterlist 

Henry had five precious days with Lucy after the dress fitting, before the time came for him to leave for the Batman V Superman press tour. After spending all morning in bed with Lucy, the time came for him to leave. Though she was trying valiantly to hold them back, Henry could see the tears in her eyes.

    “Darling, it’s ok. I’ll call you every night, and I’ll see you in five short weeks in New York.”

    “We’ve only been married five weeks, by the time I see you again, we’ll have been apart longer than we’ve been together since our wedding,” she said, a tear slipping from her eye.

    Henry gathered her in his arms. “Darling, don’t cry. You know I’m not leaving because I want to, but because I have to. I love you, and I’ll miss you too. You’ll at least have Kal, I’m the one that’s going to be alone every night.”

    “You better be,” Lucy laughed through her tears. Henry gave a short laugh as well.

    Kal watched the goodbye with plaintive eyes. He could sense something was happening. He saw Henry’s suitcases, but hadn’t been harnessed to go with. He was confused. Henry knelt down to his level. He grabbed the dog behind the ears and rubbed. “Now, listen here Kal. I want you to watch out for our girl. Keep her safe for me,” he told the dog seriously. Kal nodded his head solemnly, looking from Henry to Lucy and back to Henry. Then he smiled his doggy smile, and gave Henry’s face one long slobbery lick. “Thank you bear,” Henry laughed, standing to turn back to Lucy, wiping his face with his hand.

He wiped the slobber onto his jeans, before cupping Lucy’s face in his hands and giving her one final deep goodbye kiss. “Goodbye my Darling. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Lucy replied with a sniff as she watched Henry walk to his truck.

“Well, Kal, what should we do now?” Lucy asked the dog as they walked back inside the house. “What’s that? You want to sit at my feet while I correct papers? That’s such a good idea,” she exclaimed, scratching his head. He turned to her with an expression that said, “I am not amused,” and he walked up the stairs to lay in his fluffy dog bed. “Fine, just abandon me, see if I care,” Lucy said to herself.

Three weeks later, Henry and Lucy were having their nightly phone call.

“Do you know, journalists are not the most original bunch ever? I was asked no less than nine times today about my “newest role” as husband. Seriously, they referred to our marriage as my newest role.”

“And what did you tell them?” Lucy asked.

“Only what we discussed. We got married on New Year’s Eve, we’re very happy, and planning to split our time between Minnesota and London,” Henry recited, ticking off the points on his fingers.

“Other than boredom from answering the same questions all day, How are you doing?” Lucy asked, concerned by the dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m fine, darling, a little tired, between the press and the workouts, my days are pretty full. I think a better question is how are you doing? I miss you so much Cupcake.”

“I miss you too, but I’m fine. Kal gave me some attitude for the first week or so, but he’s back to his normal self. I think he blamed me for you not taking him with on this press tour.”

“They’ve also asked me about him. Several of the reporters were quite disappointed to find he wasn’t with me,” Henry laughed.

“Where are you off to next?” Lucy asked, though his schedule had been synced to her phone.

“London. I’m anxious to get to sleep in a bed I recognize, even if you aren’t with me.”

“I miss you so bad. The bed is just too big without you hogging 80% of the space,” Lucy commented.

“Me?” Henry retorted. “The only reason I’m so close to you, is I’m trying to get the covers that you hoard on your side of the bed.”

“I like the weight,” she responded innocently. He didn’t reply, but she could hear his smile through the line. “How long until I get to see you again?” She asked, as she had everyday since he’d left.

“Too long darling,” he replied as he had every time she asked.

“I have an early morning tomorrow so I have to go. I love you, Darcy.” Lucy said.

“I love you more, Cupcake,” Henry replied, disconnecting the call. He sat back against the headboard of the bed in his hotel room in Mexico City. “Lucy would love it here,” he thought to himself. “She would probably drag me all over seeing this site and that. And I’d enjoy every second of it.” He smiled at the idea. Suddenly he had an idea. He did a quick google search to find just what he was looking for. He wouldn’t be able to take care of it anymore tonight, but tomorrow after his training session, and before his press commitments, he planned a trip he needed to take.

One evening, later that week, Lucy sat in her classroom correcting a stack of tests. She found herself staying later in the evening, since she had gotten approval from the school to bring Kal with her, in his capacity as a therapy dog. He had instantly charmed almost everyone at the school with his infectious grin and loving presence.

Her classroom phone rang. It being after school hours she answered with her less formal, “Hello?” as opposed to “Mrs. Cavill.” It was Gretchen, the office secretary. “A package just arrived for you. It’s in the front office if you want to come pick it up.”

“Thanks Gretchen. I’ll be right down,” Lucy replied, wracking her brain trying to think if she’d ordered anything lately. She entered the office and saw a cardboard box, about a foot and a half square, sitting on the floor, where the deliveries were usually kept. She saw her name on the address label, and looked for a return address. She saw Henry’s name along with the name of the hotel he’d been staying in in Mexico City.

She hefted the box into her arms, it was heavier than she had anticipated. Kal lifted his head from his front paw when she returned to her classroom. “Kal, daddy sent a care package,” she told the dog.She opened the box, and the first thing she saw was a note written in Henry’s confident scrawl.

Cupcake -

Being here in Mexico City reminds me of you. I keep thinking how much you would love being here, and all of the of different things you would drag me to. By the time you get this, I will no doubt be in London already, but my beautiful señora, enjoy these delights from Mexico.

Full discretion, I had Dany translate for me so the shop owners would get exactly what I was thinking. I hope you enjoy everything, and I hope your students enjoy them also, since I know you’ll be sharing with them.

I love you more than words can say, and I’m counting the hours until I get to hold you in my arms again.

Love for always,

    - Darcy

Under the note from Henry Lucy found that the box was full of Mexican candies, both traditional things like turron and not so traditional like various suckers coated with chili powder, and gummies shaped like sombreros.

She laughed to herself as she pulled bag after bag of sweet delights from the box. She sorted the goodies into three piles; a pile to share with her students (the fruit suckers and gummy candies), a pile to share with her colleagues (the turrones and other baked goods), and a pile to keep for herself (most of the chocolates). At the very bottom of the box, she even found a treat for Kal.

“Kal, daddy sent you something,” Lucy said, waving the treat in his direction. Kal jumped up from his laying down position, his tail wagging fiercely as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. She threw him the treat, which he caught neatly in is mouth, then proceeded to lay down and chew on it.

Lucy snapped several pictures, one of the pile of goodies, one of Kal enjoying his treat, and one of herself giving him an incredulous face. She sent him all three pictures along with a short message. “I got a huge box of goodies today. This is too much! But thank you. Kal loves his treat, and I’m sure the kids will love theirs as well. Love you!”

Finally the day before Spring break arrived. The day dragged like no other day in her history had. Lucy had dropped Kal with her parents for the weekend, and had her suitcase in her car. She had managed to talk one of her colleagues into taking her last hour class, so, combined with her prep period, she could cut out two hours early, and make her early evening flight without having to speed too much to get to the airport.

It was after 10:30 by the time Lucy got to the hotel near Central Park. The lobby was almost empty, except for a few people making their way into or out of the hotel bar. Lucy approached the reception desk.

“Good evening madam, how may I help you?” The smartly dressed man behind the desk asked, with just the slightest hint of a British accent.

“Lucy Cavill, checking in, My husband is already checked in, I just need a key.”

“Certainly madam, I just need to see an ID before I can accommodate you.” Lucy handed over her driver’s license and watched as the man typed on the computer. He placed her license and a key card on the desk in front of her. “Thank you for waiting Mrs. Cavill. Your room is going to be number 2101, take the left bank of elevators, insert your key card into the slot, and it will take you to your floor. Enjoy your stay.”

Lucy thanked the man, and made her way to the elevators. As the elevator ascended, Lucy could feel a calm settling over her the closer she got to Henry. The elevator slowly glided to a stop, as the doors whispered open Lucy took hold of the handle of her suitcase, preparing to step out. She double checked the room number and looked up to see which way she should turn, when she saw him. Henry, leaning against the wall opposite the elevator, waiting for her. She smiled as tears filled her eyes.

She stepped out of the elevator as he pushed off from the wall grinning at her. “Excuse me miss, do you need help finding your room?” He asked, offering her his arm.

“Why thank you, I do get hopelessly lost without help,” she said playing along, taking his proffered arm.

He led her to the room, and waited as she unlocked the door.

She put a hand to his chest as he tried to follow her in, “excuse me sir, I am a married woman, my husband could be here at any moment.”

Henry stepped toward her, slowly gliding his hand around her waist to the small of her back. “That’s ok, I can be quick,” he said, dropping his mouth to hers while backing her into the room.

“You better not be,” Lucy said, stripping off her coat, before falling on him again.

Their hands made quick work of divesting each other of their clothing, leaving a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom, while their mouths dueled passionately, trying to make up for lost time.

Henry gently lowered them to the bed, slowing his kisses to a more leisurely pace. He pressed slow kisses down her neck, his lips mapping her lines and curves, while his hands explored their way further south. His fingers worked their way to her core, tangling in her curls, finding her hot and ready for him. His fingers played over her folds, while his mouth sought her breast. He sucked one nipple deep into his mouth, his tongue playing over the tip. Lucy groaned in response.

“Henry, please, I need you,” she begged, her system feeling overloaded with sensation.

“No, no, darling. I want to savor this,” he teased, kissing his way to her other breast.

She grabbed his head in her hands, bringing his face back up to hers, looking him in the eye. “You can go slow next time. I need you now,” she said, taking his mouth in a possessive kiss.

“Whatever you want, darling,” Henry replied, sliding his fingers from her core. Lucy whimpered at the sudden loss of sensation, only to release a long groan of satisfaction as he thrust into her in one long smooth stroke, joining them completely. Neither of them moved for a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes, relishing the feeling of being together after so long. Lucy gasped as he slowly retreated, only to thrust home again, her every nerve ending tingling in anticipation.

He continued his torturously slow pace, teasing them both, until he couldn’t control himself anymore. His hips took on a frantic pace, pushing them both to climax, the whole time, their eyes remained locked together. Lucy screamed his name as she came apart in his arms, and he followed her, his body stiffening with the power of his climax.

Henry touched his forehead to Lucy’s, both of them breathing heavily. Lucy took his face between her palms, and kissed him deep, but sweetly. “I’ve missed you.” Henry rolled to the side, bringing Lucy with him. She lay sprawled across his chest as he lay on his back with his arms around her.

“Welcome to New York,” he quipped, once his breathing had returned to normal.

Lucy burrowed her nose into his chest, inhaling his masculine scent. “Mmmm, you smell good,” she commented, then stiffened, her head popping up off his chest. “That’s right, I’m mad at you,” she said, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at him.

“Me? What did I do?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“You, sir, have been doing copious amounts of interviews wearing these damned button down shirts, and you leave the top three buttons undone. That is just plain mean, and unnecessarily sexy. Do you know what it’s like for me to watch all these interviews of my husband, looking like god’s gift to women, then have to go to bed alone? So like I said, I’m mad at you.”

“Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry,” he said dramatically.

“Well, you’ve got about six weeks of sexual frustration to help me work off, so you better get to it,” she commanded.

He smiled while rolling her back onto her back, “yes ma’am,” he said, slowly kissing his way down her body.

Saturday morning, after an intense round of lovemaking, Lucy and Henry were eating breakfast in bed. “So, darling, what are your plans for the morning?”

“Apparently Dany has me booked into a bunch of spa treatments here, before it’s time to get ready for the premiere. So really I should ask you, what your plans are,” she said ripping off a piece of croissant.

“I will be at the spa as well. Apparently I’m in desperate need of a moisturizing treatment, or some such thing. Later I have a thing to do, so Dany will take you to the premiere, and I will meet you there,” Henry explained, munching on a strawberry.

“Is this that charity thing?” She asked, and Henry nodded in answer.

Lucy and Henry, dressed very casually in sweatpants and T-shirts, made their way to the spa several floors below their room. They stepped off the elevator and followed the signage to the spa. A tall man with dark hair was several paces ahead of them, walking in the same direction.

Henry called out to the man, “Ben!” The man slowed his pace and turned at Henry’s voice. “Ben, I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Lucy. Lucy this is Ben.”

Lucy stood frozen, staring up at the incredibly tall man standing next to her husband. He extended his hand toward her, “Lucy, it’s so great to finally meet you.”

Lucy took the hand, and shook it weakly, “It’s nice to meet you, Ben...Affleck…” she greeted, and giggled nervously.

“Are you enjoying New York?” Ben asked, trying to put her at ease, as the three continued on their way to the spa.

“I got in late last night, I had to work yesterday,” Lucy explained.

“Well, I, for one, am glad you could come, because I don’t know if I could take anymore of this one moping around like a love sick puppy,” Ben laughed, slapping Henry on the shoulder.

“Hey, be nice,” Lucy said in her teacher voice, “we haven’t even been married for three months. We’re literally in the honeymoon stage,” Lucy laughed.

“Well, Lucy, it was lovely to meet you, and I will see you later at the premiere. Bye Henry, see you later,” Ben said, walking off with the spa attendant.

Lucy and Henry were separated to go to their individual treatments. Lucy’s day started in the steam room. She was shown to a changing room and told to disrobe, wrap herself in a towel, and someone would collect her from the steam room when it was time. When Lucy entered the hot, moist tiled room, there were already two women in there, chatting. Lucy sat on one of the benches they weren’t occupying and leaned her head against the tiles. The women continued their conversation. Lucy tried not to eavesdrop, but the room wasn’t very big, and she was positive she recognized one of the voices.

“Excuse me,” she said butting into the conversation, “sorry to interrupt, but you’re Amy Adams aren’t you?” Lucy asked the red-headed woman.

“I am,” she answered warily.

Lucy stuck out her hand toward the woman. “Lucy Cavill, you’re my husband’s girlfriend.”

Instantly the woman’s face changed from a mask of uncertainty, to a full smile. “Lucy it’s so great to meet you finally. Henry’s told us so much about you,” she said, taking Lucy’s hand. “Congratulations on the wedding, by the way.”

“Thank you. It still doesn’t quite seem real, but the name plate outside my door says Mrs. Cavill, so, I guess it’s true!” Lucy joked.

“When did you two get married?” The other woman asked, with a slight accent that Lucy couldn’t place.

“New Year’s Eve, it was a great time, and a great party. I’m sorry, I don’t know you,” Lucy said extending her hand to the stunning brunette.

Amy jumped in, “Oh, Lucy, this is Gal. She’s in the movie too. She plays Wonder Woman.”

A light of recognition turned on in Lucy’s brain as the woman took her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you Lucy.”

“Likewise, Gal.”

The three women chatted like old friends until they were collected one by one, by the spa staff. Lucy spent the rest of the morning being rubbed and smeared and exfoliated. When she was deemed done, she was directed back to her room, where she found the suite much changed from that morning.

When she and Henry had left, the living room area of the suite held two couches and a coffee table. Now a full makeup station, complete with lighted vanity, and been set-up, and what appeared to be a small hair salon. Dany was also there, looking gorgeous in a black jumpsuit with a wide gold belt.

Dany greeted Lucy with a quick hug, before directing her to the chair set-up in the middle of the room. The hair stylist consulted with her about what she would like to do. “I was thinking, like old Hollywood glam curls, like Blake Lively is fond of,” she said.

The stylist got to work as Dany outlined everything that would happen that afternoon. Her hair was still in rollers, when Henry entered wearing a charcoal suit, and looking dashing as ever. “Darling, I have to leave now, but before I go, I wanted to give you this,” he said, producing a long flat rectangular jewelry box. “I love the dress you chose for tonight, but we just thought it could use some color,” he explained handing her the box.

She opened the box to find a bracelet in the velvet lined space. Blue teardrop opals were arranged around sapphires to create a grouping of flowers that gathered into a silver branch encircling her wrist. She raised her gaze to Henry, “Henry, this is too much, you shouldn’t have,” she protested.

He silenced her protests with a kiss, “I should have, and I did. I have to be going, I will see you on the red carpet. Dany, take care of my girl.”

“She can take care of herself, I’ll just make sure she looks fabulous. Now go, you don’t want to be late,” Dany shooed him out the door.

Over an hour later, Lucy was primped and painted and squeezed into the dress she chose. It was as beautiful as she remembered, and the silver nail polish she��d chosen at the salon earlier that week in Minnesota went perfectly.

She and Dany rode the elevator down to the parking garage where a limo was waiting to take them to the premiere. Once they were safely ensconced in the car, Dany reminded her, “now that you and Henry are married, the press will probably be more interested in you. Feel free to answer whatever questions you want, if you don’t want to answer the question, say that’s something you and Henry need to discuss. Make sure to always be smiling, even or especially when you’re not in the picture grouping. We don’t want rumors starting that there’s already trouble in your marriage.”

Lucy’s head was spinning trying to remember everything, but once she got to the waiting area and saw Henry, she just did what came naturally. Lucy stood nervously but proudly next to Henry for each photo session. When she wasn’t needed, Dany was there to talk to. She saw Henry gesture in her direction several times while talking to different media outlets, but he never waved her over to join him in the interview.

Finally the time came for them to sit down in the theater for the movie. When he appeared wearing his Clark Kent clothes, she leaned over and whispered, “you should wear glasses more often.”

“Just wait,” he whispered back, as Clark sat on the edge of the bathtub talking to Lois. Lucy gripped his thigh when Clark climbed into the tub.

“That was hot,” Lucy whispered, when the scene ended.

“That’s the short version, we filmed so much more than that,” he replied.

“There was more?” She asked, fanning herself.

As the movie came to a close, and they were exiting the theater, Lucy turned to Henry. “So, you’re just dead? Superman can’t die. Just give him some sunlight! How can they film a Justice League movie without Superman? I don’t understand.”

“I’m dead, but not dead,” he said before lowering his voice so only she could hear. “When I get home, I’ll let you read the script.”

“You better. You could have warned me that you were going to die. I really didn’t appreciate that!”

“I’m so sorry, darling, what can I do to make it up to you?” He asked suggestively.

“Well, that thing you did this morning, that would help,” she smiled at him.

“Consider it done, Cupcake,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But until then, let’s party.”

They put in their time at the party. Lucy stuck with Henry for the most of the night. They received many congratulations on their marriage, and answered questions about the wedding all night. Lucy had a great conversation with Amy about life, and she gave Lucy some tips to remember about being married to an actor. Lucy found out later that someone had taken a picture of the two of them talking and posted it on one of the celebrity gossip sites, with the caption “Mrs. Cavill, and Mrs. Superman”.

Henry and Lucy said their goodbyes and took their leave of the party around midnight. Lucy laid her head on his shoulder as they rode the elevator up to their floor. They were both tired and more than a little tipsy. Once they were alone in their room, Henry’s hands began to roam, while his lips took nibbling bites of Lucy’s lips.

“You’re going to have to help me out of this dress,” Lucy said, “and what’s underneath it.”

Henry began to slowly lower the zipper of the dress, while kissing the back of her neck, “oh, I intend to.”

“No, I’m serious, I’m wearing a double layer of Spanx under this, I haven’t taken a full breath since you gave me the bracelet.”

“Well, then let’s get you out of them,” he insisted. She stepped out of the dress, and hung it up, before turning back to Henry in her decidedly unsexy compression underwear.

Henry walked toward her, he tried to work his fingers into the top of the band that stopped just under her breasts. His fingers wouldn’t fit. “Darling, how are you supposed to get out of that? It’s so tight,” he said, laughter in his voice.

“I think my best bet with this one is rolling,” she laughed, as she pressed her palms to the top of the band. It slowly started to roll over on itself. “You may want to step back, this could be a can biscuit dough situation,” she laughed holding her hand up toward him. Finally the support band rolled itself until it stopped at her thighs. She heaved a huge breath, pulling it off the rest of the way, before flopping on the bed on her back.

Henry himself had collapsed in a fit of giggles, from her expressions and comments. He managed to crawl over to the bed, and lever himself up next to Lucy. He propped himself up on his elbow and caressed her face with his hand. “My darling, life with you will never be boring,” he said, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Chapter 61           Chapter 63

[zenkatki]

Pandemic Ironman 2020

I have been asked by a few people to write something regarding Ironman Florida, the first full 140.6 Ironman held in the United Stated since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. I have never done a race write up before and I am not sure where to begin. I will take it from training which started in March to the end of the race and the reader can skip around to the parts they find interesting.

Training

Ironman Florida was to be my tenth Ironman, a step on the road to Legacy. I started a training plan that I had used before in February and tweaked it a little with my Ironman Coach certification. I already had a good endurance base from the 2020 Dopey Challenge at Walt Disney World in January, so February was primarily weight training and short distance swim, bike and runs. I still had a pool this month at New York Sports Club in Smithtown.

March is where things got interesting and COVID-19 lock-down started. The gym closed. I quickly purchased a Thermal Reaction wetsuit from Blueseventy and found my gloves and booties. I am fortunate to live 2.5 miles from the Long Island Sound so open water swims started early March. It was freezing but a bit fun to channel my inner Wim Hof. The swim training for this Ironman was entirely open water, with one pool swim in July when my sister invited me to her Town Pool once it opened. It was a concern because I feel pool intervals are important but I learned to incorporate intervals in the open water which helped break up those sessions and gave me focus.

I was able to get weight training done at work, we have a pretty decent set up in our garage. Biking and running proceeded as usual with a mix of outside rides and runs and some Zwift workouts. With a ten month training period I worked a lot of Zone 2 heart rate training, I’ve become a big believer.

It was weird not knowing at this point if the race was even on, and training helped me deal with a lot of the unknown, the anxiety. It pushed me through the spring and summer feeling hopeful despite seeing all the races on the circuit being cancelled. I had a 70.3 planned for late August in Maine that was not to be this year.

Time passed and soon it was race time. Ironman sent multiple e-mails stating they were still looking to hold the race and how it would function. I kept a folder in my e-mail with all the correspondence from Ironman, the airline, the hotel and TriBike Transport.

Travel

For whatever reason this was a tough flight to find. I had to go American Airlines and the flight to Florida was out of LaGuardia to Charlotte to Fort Walton Beach, an airport that was about an hour away from Panama Beach City. Going home was Panama City to Charlotte to JFK. Out of all three airports, JFK in New York was the only one with the Department Of Health forms to fill out upon arrival.

Now the story I’m about to write is to show how important it is to remain alert and pay attention to detail when you travel. Hopefully you will learn from my mistake here.

I wearily got off the plane at Fort Walton and found a cab outside, a nice, elderly man named Bill who was willing to drive me over an hour to my hotel in Panama City. He was driving, we were chatting and he asked me if it was okay for him to stop for gas. Sure, no problem. At the gas station he asked if I wanted to get anything and I said yes, I’ll run in for a drink. As I exited the gas station I saw the taillights of my cab leaving the pump and proceeding down the road. Without me. I did my best to stay calm but my cab had just left me stranded and my bags were in the car, along with my wallet, shield, and ID. I wondered if I was on a television show. After a few minutes it became clear that I was not on TV, and I needed to do something to track down this car. I was angry at myself for not knowing the cab company name, or getting the vehicle’s plate. After getting nowhere on the phone trying to contact the airline I asked the woman at the gas station to call the police. It was at this moment my cab returned, and my friend Bill said he thought it was weird I wasn’t answering his questions anymore and when he turned around and didn’t see me, he remembered I ran into the gas station. I refrained from physically strangling this man and climbed back into the minivan, clearly shook regarding how this race weekend just started.

Hotel

I had booked the Boardwalk Beach Hotel & Convention Center when I registered for this race. It was originally the host hotel and the race was to take place right on the grounds which is super convenient. Due to COVID and the safe return to racing, the race venue was moved six miles away to Aaron Bessant Park so they could spread us out more. I kept the reservation at BBH to be fair and help with the hotel’s business. I did enjoy being there but it was far from everything. In retrospect I should have rented one of those kewl golf carts and used that to get around for the weekend. I spent approximately $100 in Uber fees going back and forth to Aaron Bessant and Pier Park. All my cab fees, airport runs included, came to about $250. A shuttle would have been super nice but I think the majority of the people racing switched their accommodations upon the announcement of the venue change.

The hotel itself was okay, I was on the ground floor so it was out and a short walk to the water and road. The cafeteria had coffee in the morning and some pastries but I only saw them cooking food my last day as I checked out. The people that worked there were nice, I’ll forever remember me cleaning my bike in my room with the door open and housekeeping cleaning the adjoining rooms. I had put some music on the Bluetooth and we had a great time.

Race Check In

About a week before traveling Ironman sent out an Active.com e-mail with a link to reserve race check in times. This again was to space us out and not have us standing in line, clogging up the area. I picked Wednesday night between 5-6PM. Bibs were given out first come, first serve so the lower your bib number was the earlier you checked in. I was #1038. I arrived at about 4:45 with my mask and was told I could go in. It was athletes only so if you were with someone they had to wait outside the Ironman Village for you. I had to answer a short survey verbally, get my temperature taken, and then was directed table to table, just like a regular race. For places where a line of people might happen there were tape marks and lanes were roped off with string and little ribbons indicating every six feet. I was able to pick my bike check-in time for Friday, they gave me a little card with 2-3PM on it. I actually really liked this system and I think it would be great even when racing goes back to its regular routine. I found it interesting that the swag such as the swim cap and back pack didn’t have the race name on it. The finisher shirt and medal had no date on it. I guess up until the very start of the race it was always uncertain if it would be a go.

I learned that Ironman Gulf Coast 70.3 would also be on Saturday, November 7th, with an 11:00AM start time. So both races would be going at almost the same time using the same course and staging area. I received an e-mail from Triathlon Wire with the numbers of about 1250 athletes for the full and 300 for the half.

After checking in I walked over to the TriBike Transport tent, picked up my bike, put air in the tires and rode it back to my hotel. It was dark when I got back so I walked over to Subway for a veggie sub.

Thursday was a day for me to ride a little, swim a little and look around a little. My calves let me know when I did too much walking. That happens to me often at Disney for marathon weekend. You’re in a great place and want to see it all but remember, there’s a race in a couple of days! I did what I could to find vegan food options in a very big seafood area. I remembered to bring food to eat later back to my room, I had a refrigerator and a microwave there.

I walked on the pier and saw a few of the swim course buoys set up. It always looks so far, doesn’t it?

Before bed I watched the athlete briefing on-line and reviewed the race packet I printed out before I left New York. I got my gear bags ready to be handed in along with my bike the next day.

Bike Check In

Friday I rode my bike and gear bags to check in at 2PM. For some reason we also needed to wear our timing chip which made me thankful I watched that briefing the night before, because they really weren’t letting people go in without them. Athletes only again, no one without a timing chip and an event race band could enter transition. In I went with my mask on again.

Bikes were placed every other space on the rack giving us a little more room. Gear bags stayed with the bike. I tucked mine under the rear wheel that was in the air. All items in the bags must stay in the bags even during the race. So the guy two spots down from me who set his area up like he was doing a neighborhood sprint complete with a towel mat had to put all his gear back in the bags. After taking a picture of my set up and saying good night to my bike (for real, I speak to it) I got out of there. I made sure I knew where I was regarding swim in, bike out/bike in and run out before I left. I picked up a veggie pizza before heading back to the hotel. I spent the remainder of that day eating, relaxing, reading, prepping my Special Needs bags. I usually apply race numbers (TriTats) the night before but there was no body marking for this race so I wasn’t going to use up the numbers.

I was slightly concerned about getting to the race start so early the next morning. The front desk had recommended a cab service, but I met an awesome man named El by the hotel pool. He needed a charger for his Garmin. I let him use mine and we started talking about the next morning. He had driven to Florida from Tennessee, had his car and offered me a ride to the start which I gratefully accepted.

Race Morning

Up at 3:45AM race morning. Made instant coffee, ate half a bagel, lubed, dressed, double checked all my bags and headed out. El and I drove to transition and he was able to park close to the transition entrance. Special Needs bags were handed off on the way in to Transition. Masks were on. I went to my bike, double checked the tires and filled the water and Gatorade bottles. They didn’t want us wondering around too much. I did see Chris Nikic walk into Transition. This race was his attempt at becoming the first person with Down Syndrome to complete an Ironman. I thought it was great to see him, a good sign. Now that I think about it at this point I just focused on that good thought and the cab ride from the airport wasn’t even in my head. Mike Reilly was there! I got ready to swim and tucked my Morning Clothes bag behind my gear bags, Morning Clothes stayed with us as well.

Swim

The forecast projected it being overcast most of the day and the morning was a bit cloudy. I picked goggles with a super light tint and it was a good choice. We were to stand with our bikes until our projected swim time was called out. I stayed put until I heard, “1:20-1:30 head to the swim start now!” Everyone thinking they were finishing the swim in that time started out and towards the beach, it was about a seven minute walk on the road and on sand. Some people had throw-away shoes on, I did not. The road had tape marks every six feet, they wanted you to try to stay on them when walk-traffic stopped. On the sand they had roped off lanes with pink ribbons tied on every six feet. We were to stay on a ribbon. There were spectators the whole walk. Eventually my lane made it to the water and they were letting four people enter every five seconds or so. Despite this great system guess what. Once we were in the water in was a traditional Ironman. It took some time to get passed the breaks but once I was in I was going. Two loops, clockwise in the Gulf. I saw fish and a sea turtle. There was a current pushing us sideways so it took some effort and a lot of sighting to stay to the left of the buoys. It wouldn’t be an Ironman if I didn’t get hit in the eye and I got it on my second loop. If you’re familiar with the Lake Placid swim it was like that only no cable though, sorry. Despite it being wetsuit legal I was getting hot towards the end. I really enjoyed the water though and had a swim time of 1:27:01.

T1

My transition neighbors were gone by the time I got into T1 so I had plenty of room. I was expecting to have to wear a mask in Transition but we did not. I had my bike gear in the bag set up so I could just pull it out and put it on and it worked well. I hung my wetsuit on the bike rack to dry hoping that was allowed. It was still there when I got back so I guess it was. Once I was bike ready I made my way out to start my ride. My T1 time was 10:39.

Bike

Because the swim had been warm I started my bike ride a little thirsty which was unfortunately a sign of things to come. To keep contact points down Ironman had reduced the amount of Aid Stations, so after drinking my water and most of my Gatorade quickly it was some time before I could refill. I ate every 45 minutes to an hour on the bike. Solid food was no problem, I had a lot with me and grabbed extra going through the Aid Stations. It was fluid I needed more often than it was available. If the sun had been out full force I think I would have had an even worse problem. It was about 80 degrees, humid, still overcast and windy which meant I was sweating and not really going anywhere when pedaling against the wind. I used the tail wind as best I could to make up time. I really think I need to be re-fit for my bike because at mile 30 I was already having terrible lower back pain. It wasn’t an easy ride and despite everyone telling me how flat the course is, it was over 3,000 feet of elevation. I had to get off to use the porta-potty and stretch early on. I guess at this point I should mention my race kit. I wore a one-piece tri suit from Zoot, the Autism Ohana kit. Google it if you have a chance, I think it’s great. Very colorful and for a good cause. I wore it to remember my friend Lizzie that I run with sometimes in Central Park as a volunteer for Achilles. But there are goods and bads of wearing a one-piece and the bads is definitely when you try to use the bathroom in it. It has little sleeves that are tough to find and get your arms through when they are wet. So there was a struggle in that porta-potty, no doubt. Finally I opened the door. The porta-potty was on an incline and I kind of stumbled out of it and cracked my left knee on the doorway. Then I bent over to grab my knee and hit my big, bike helmet head on the side. I felt like the Three Stooges was trying to do an Ironman, I really did. Shaking my head I got back on the bike and started to go. I felt my knee throbbing for about twenty miles. As I write this I have a wicked bruise. But back to the bike…This was a one loop course on the highways of Florida. There were wide shoulders and a bike lane that we rode in but in the back of my mind I kept thinking this was an active road way and any passing needed to be super carefully done. Cars were courteous enough not to use the right lane but if a driver wanted to be a jerk and use it they could. Any residential/business areas had spectators. As I said before it was windy. I did the best I could and had some good splits when the wind was with me but I needed to get off a few more times to stretch. I finished the bike with a usual time of 7:14:01.

T2

Again I had the area to myself so I sat to change shoes and get ready for the run. I was a little put off by my bike split and my stomach was not 100% but I thought I could have a strong run if I stayed focused. Removing sand from my feet was a challenge but it was important so avoid any irritation so I took the time to do that before I put my socks on. I stretched my back and drank more Gatorade before I left. I had a T2 time of 10:53.

Run

As I started my run I was greeted by just as many spectators as any other Ironman. Some had masks on, some didn’t. Some were dressed up, some played music. Everyone was encouraging and motivating. I started out so happy to be running. This course was an out and back two times along the highway parallel to the beach, passed all the hotels, bars and restaurants. The halfway turning point and the finish line were at Pier Park. For six miles I ran strong and thanked everyone for being out. A lot of people liked and commented on my race kit. It was great. But soon I knew I was going to have to do the run/walk, even as the sun went down and it started to cool off. I was unable to eat anything solid for the majority of the run. The thought of trying made me dry heave. I saw a few people really heaving in the bushes and was afraid I was going to join them. I took in as much fluid as I could, mainly water and Coke. I was sweating out a lot of salt, my neck and face were all gritty. I thought at first maybe it was sand but why would there be sand on my face, right? Out and back, out and back, using whatever I could in my brain to keep moving. I followed the cones they used to mark off the run area. Walk one cone, run five cones. My quads were shredded. I thought of my Mom and my Family. I thought of work and how I wanted to make everyone proud. I thought of the finish line and finally, FINALLY it was my turn to cross. My run took 6:25:20. Mike Reilly called me an Ironman with an official time of 15:27:52.

After crossing the spectator-less finish line I was given a mask and a masked volunteer guided me along, not touching me, to a table with plastic bags containing my finisher shirt and race medal. Someone with gloves and a mask removed my timing chip. I made my way over to Athlete Food and choked down half a veggie sub. I got my picture taken with my medal. (There were photographers out on the course too.) I had completed my 10th Ironman.

As I gathered my gear and dropped my bike back at the TriBike tent, Chris Nikic became an Ironman. I cheered from the parking lot. I started to walk back with the plan of getting passed the road closures to an area where I could call an Uber to get back to my hotel. But I started walking with a man named Dan who had volunteered in a kayak for the swim and at the finish line as well. He had just as long of a day as I had but when he heard of my plan to get back he ran into his hotel, got his keys and drove me to my hotel. And that really, really describes the Ironman atmosphere and Family to me. We all help each other, we all do what we can to get each other through the challenge. I am so grateful I found this sport, these events and have met some of the most amazing people.

I hope this write up helps someone with their goal, be it an Ironman or a first sprint triathlon, or a marathon or whatever. Please feel free to contact me with any questions if I missed something you wanted to know about.

Thank you to everyone for the well wishes, encouragement and congratulations. Thank you to Ironman and the Volunteers for having this race during one of the most hectic times in our lives.

Thank you for reading.

Kristen

SuperKat1029@aol.com

Instagram - @zenkatki

[canaryatlaw]

well....today was overall alright I guess, for a Monday. period days just aren’t very pleasant overall. but today was alright. I woke up to my alarm at 11 to find this morning’s situation I previously posted about (so. much. blood.), took care of that and hooked up my new period pain reliever device thing called Livia. It was on kickstarter months ago, and came a few weeks ago, so I stopped taking bc and here we are. it’s a little square thing that connects to a wire which splits in two and has an electrode attached to a gel pad on each end. you put the electrodes on your stomach (or wherever you’re having cramps) and turn it on, and increase the level until you feel a tingly feeling going on. it operates off the theory of something called TENS, basically with electric nerve stimulation or something like that (I’m a law person, not a science person). But as far as keeping cramps away it’s doing pretty good, I used it for most of the day and was good, so that was good. But yeah, I got ready, had instant mashed potatoes for breakfast because I was out of cereal and didn’t have any other substitutes, then took the bus to the train to the other train because it was in the single digits outside today (brrr). made it to school and stopped in the PAD office briefly to dump my stuff and spend a few minutes on my laptop typing up case briefs for the cases I read on Saturday (when I didn’t have my laptop with me so I hadn’t written briefs for them) because I knew, I just knew I was going to get called on, I can always tell, so I wanted to be prepared. somewhere in between all of this I checked my email and discovered a request for a second interview with the organization I interviewed with back in December and is currently my first choice job option, so I was fairly ecstatic about that. they wanted it to be in person, not over Skype, so I ended up scheduling it for the Friday directly preceding spring break, I’ll fly to NY on Thursday (skipping my Thursday night class) and do it the next day, so I was happy about all of this. I booked flights as well so that’s good to go. I made it all the way to the end of the period, even when he kept coming up with absent people and then had to pick someone else for a chain of like 5 people, and then on the last case of the day I get called on, which was fine because I was prepared, and we only had a few minutes left so I didn’t get any too difficult questions. Went back to the PAD office after that and started working on my Remedies reading for this evening. The reading assignments have always been super long (this week’s was 85 pages) but last week he basically said you don’t have to do all of it, just at least skim the cases, so instead of actually reading I read the case briefs of them off lexis and copied those into my notes, so that worked. Then I worked on the rest of my civil rights assigned reading for Wednesday so I could leave the book at school and not have to lug it back and forth again. I was really craving like, cake or something, but didn’t want to go anywhere outside because it was snowing again and still freezing, so I didn’t do anything until guy who hangs out in the office who has been growing on me came, and I mentioned it, at which point he offered to go grab it for me like I hoped he would and I said I’d buy his coffee, so I ordered the two things from the starbucks app (I got the iced lemon pound cake) and he ran down (the starbucks is across the street) and returned a minute later with them, so I was pleased with that. Class time rolled around, so I went up to class. Sort of tuned in and out for a while, still taking decent notes and keeping up with the conversation at least. Lots of talk about damages, which is to be expected being that it’s a class based on Remedies, and damages make up a huge portion of remedies for cases. So just stuff like consequential damages and liquidated damages and when they can be counted as a penalty that won’t be enforced by the court for being against public policy, and fun stuff like that. He let us out around 7:30, an hour early, because he knew some of us have long commutes (I didn’t raise my hand when he asked; mine takes about an hour but I know those who live outside the city have much longer ones) and he wanted to make sure we all got home okay with the snow, which was of course greatly appreciated. So I took the red line to the brown line, but then when I went to check when the next bus was coming to the brown line stop the next bus was 30 minutes out (they’re only ever supposed to be 20 minutes apart) and I was like oh fuck no, I’m not waiting for half a fucking hour when the remaining distance is relatively small (though would not be a pleasant walk, especially in current conditions, a bit too far for that). So I sucked it up and got an uber for the last mile or two, which got me home at a decent time at least. Got home and got some food, then turned on tonight’s episode of Supergirl, which I thought was super interesting. I loved their whole plot with Julia/Purity and that climax scene when Alex basically talks her down and gets her to fight it off, and suddenly this innocent person is back, and offers herself to save Alex (which, while very noble, sadly played right into Reign’s plan). I then loved Kara’s line at the end about saving them instead of defeating them, because I sooooo badly want that to be the solution to this season and not end up with a dead Sam and abandoned Ruby, so I really hope that’s the path they go down. but yeah, I enjoyed the episode, which is always good. after that I wound up calling my dad, which lead to a somewhat tense discussion over job options, where he was telling me he has connections with the people conducting the interviews at the DA’s office, and I told him I’d really prefer to get a job that I got on my own merit, not his, not like how my brother did, and he wasn’t happy to hear that because he was like “what have I been working my whole life for then?” and like, my dad has made a great reputation for himself. but when people see my last name I want them to think of the things I’ve done to give it meaning, not the things my dad or brother had done. If it works out like that I will take a job in the DA’s office, but I’d much prefer a position that I knew I got on my own merit, not who my father is. because I’m well-qualified, dammit, I worked my ass off to get in the top 15% of my class, working 16 hours a week in addition to being a full time student for a full year to gain the experience and training I needed to excel in the area I want to go into. I want to get offered a job because it’s something I earned, not because I was born into the right family and can get a job through nepotism. There’s a reason I decided to go to law school halfway across the country, where nobody knows my last name, and I have a blank slate where I can make a name for myself. of course, job options in Chi are not looking great right now. I emailed my former prof about a position in the PD’s office in the juvenile division, but I’d have to apply to the general office and then wait to get transferred to the juvenile division once I’d gained enough seniority (it’s relatively low on the rotation, maybe the second or third stop after things like traffic court and DV court) to get to the juvenile division. but of course that also risks the chance that I’d be assigned to the child protection division, where I would have to defend the parents in abuse and neglect proceedings, something I never intend on doing. Like, honestly, I would have no problem defending in criminal cases. I would have no problem defending someone who was guilty of murder. But I will never defend an abusive parent, because the parent’s lawyers are the only players in that system who have an objective that differs from the best interest of the child, and I never ever want to be in a position where it’s my job to argue something that is not in the best interest of a child because it’s what my client wants. So yeah, give me murderers or death row cases, I’ll happily do that defense work (my dad is a criminal defense lawyer primarily after all, so it’s not like I haven’t had plenty of exposure to it), but don’t ask me to defend an abusive parent to the detriment of their child. that I will never do. but anyway. We talked it out a bit and eventually hung up, at which point I decided to start watching Game of Thrones, which I was told to watch as much as I can this week because apparently we’re going to a GoT themed con on Saturday. I tried to get HBO Go to work through my roommate’s apple tv, but the thing is so old it doesn’t function very well and kept stalling on me to the point where it wouldn’t even play the episode i just said fuck it and paid the two bucks to get the episode off Amazon prime video. I’ve been reading Daenery’s page on the game of thrones wiki so I had some idea of what happened with her, but everything else was fairly confusing, though I think I had a pretty good grasp of what happened. Definitely not used to the nudity and the gore (so many beheadings, ick) but hopefully I’ll get better with that. I didn’t realize Sansa was so young at the beginning of the series, I definitely thought she was older. They all looked pretty damn young, and the adorable small child I was informed is named Bran Stark did a great job of being very cute. Daenery’s storyline was of course hardcore cringeworthy, getting married against her will (even if it is to Jason Momoa) after dealing with her gross asshole of a brother, and then getting legit raped on her wedding night was just pretty damn horrifying to watch. I like her character a lot though, so I’m looking forward to seeing how that goes. And yeah, when that ended I started getting ready for bed and here we are. I don’t have to do anything tomorrow until PT at 1, but I’m gonna try to get up at 11 and make a target trip beforehand to pick up a prescription and grab some groceries, because if I wait until afterwards I probably won’t have enough time to do my secured transactions reading and be done in time to watch The Flash and Black Lightning, so I’ll try to be somewhat more productive, even while still sleeping in a while. so hopefully that will go well. And yeah, that’s it for now. Goodnight my loves. Hope your Monday didn’t suck. 

[seetheworldwithmeblog]

It was August when we discovered that my brother and sister, both attending separate colleges, and my mom, who works at a pre-school, all had the same spring breaks. With few chances to be together in the last few years, this seemed too good to miss so we all found flights to make our way to Costa Rica. Fast forward 7 months and, after one of the worst winters on record in the Midwest and a constantly rainy Germany, we were all ready for a little warmth and sun.

The trip started early for Ryan and I, with a one hour flight to Amsterdam, then a 12-hour haul across the Atlantic to San Jose. Even with a multitude of games, movies, and TV shows on our hands, it was with great relief that we finally slipped into bed at the Holiday Inn Express by the airport at 9:00 pm after being awake for 22 hours.

Most of my family touched down 3 hours later but my brother’s flight fell victim to the 737-800 delays so many people experienced last week and he was stuck in Houston with some airline vouchers and a promised flight at 6:30 am. After a restless night of sleep for all of us, we grabbed some breakfast at the hotel and some sun by the pool before our first transfer arrived at 9:30. We skipped over to the airport to get Matt, whose flight had just landed, and then barreled down the highway for our first destination.

Packed into the back of a passenger van with a driver that was well-accustomed to the roads, we started our trip craning our necks to see our surroundings. The city itself was surrounded by a few of those homes that make you grateful for your roof over your head and central air conditioning. But as we moved further from town, the houses cleared to reveal plantain, pineapple, and coffee plantations scattered among tree-covered hills. We zipped up and zigzagged down those hills, talking to the driver about where he was from and catching up with each other (and US sports for Ryan).

The first drive was three hours and, positioned in the back of the manual van with some well-worn shocks, I was tossed and toppled with every start and stop. We proceeded behind a long line of what our driver assured us were tourists – rental vans moving just a little too slow for his liking, packed with noodles in the back window. Our belongings only went flying once, when he slammed on the breaks and laid on his horn for what I would soon discover was a jolly little dog trotting across the road. He carried on, unharmed and smiling, while our driver apologized. The roads got progressively bumpier as we continued and it was about at this time that our driver had decided enough was enough with the rookie drivers in front of him. In three jerking swoops, we passed the 8-van caravan and took off in front, bouncing down the road.

I can say it was with much relief that all of us disembarked 3 hours later at Los Lagos, a sprawling complex 10 minutes outside of La Fortuna. We couldn’t see it when we got out but we were assured that this has the best view of the Arenal volcano in the country.  Not that we would get to see it during our time there. We were too early for check in so we made our way to the hotel restaurant and had a lunch comprised of a whole cooked fish for a few hungry travelers and less traditional pasta or salads for the others.

Still too early, we decided to walk through the animal garden they had, started with the butterfly garden. We walked among monarchs and brilliant blue butterflies that looked as large as birds. Then we headed on to the frog garden which was sadly devoid of any visible frogs. We skipped on to the ant farm where there was an impressive set up of an ant colony. Separated from us by a man-made moat, the ant farm was teeming with giant ants that traversed from an ant hill on one end of the room, along an elevated 20-foot long branched suspended over our heads to another system of tunnels with windows into the lives of the ants. They were busy carrying giant cut leaves from one end to the other to feed the colony and didn’t seem to mind the humans ogling them from below.

We stood in there long enough for me to get itchy and then moved on to the crocodile pond, which held a sad-looking, unmoving 11-foot dinosaur, then to the turtle pond before it was time to check into our room. The complex of rooms was spread up the side of the volcano so we had to take a 5-minute shuttle ride to reach ours and we unloaded in the snug room. Then all of us except Matt, who had been left with 2 hours to sleep after all the flight changes, headed down to the pools.

We started at the swim up bar in the hot springs, Ryan watching golf to his heart’s content and the rest of us sitting in the water with Imperial beers. After cooking thoroughly, we made our way up to the other pools, going through hot and hotter springs, some chilling natural pools, a few jacuzzi seats and massaging waterfalls, and down some slides. We managed to kill 2 hours there before we headed back to the room to change for dinner. We opted for the same restaurant as lunch, choosing to enjoy the buffet and the cross-cultural feast on offer. After more margaritas and mojitos, Ryan and Matt went back to the pools but yours truly was ready for bed.

I spent the next morning reading on the balcony to the sound of songbirds and steady rain while my family slept in. One of the benefits of jet lag is just a little quiet time in the morning before the rest of the world is awake. The rest of the group woke up an hour later and three of us were foolhardy enough to try the 2 km walk up to the observatory that overlooked the Arenal volcano. About ten steps up the trail, the rain started falling heavier and we all wondered if we should turn around but our stubbornness won out and we continued up the volcano with pools of water in our shoes. We made it to the top, an eerie church-like structure overlooking a break in the trees and got a splendid view of ….. clouds. There was nothing but white as far as the eye could see so we cut our losses and hightailed it down the hill in time to see the rest of my family waving from the shuttle on their way down to breakfast.

Lovely view of … clouds

We switched out of our wet clothes in a hurry and followed them down for a buffet breakfast of eggs, rice, tortillas, and little plantain cookies with Costa Rican coffee. The weather didn’t look any better as we boarded a bus an hour later with a few other adventurous travelers on our way to white water rafting.

Our guide, Joseph, started his introduction by teaching us about Pura Vida and continued to reference it while he pointed out banana, papaya, and pineapple farms on our way to the river. Our normal river had been dammed up because of the rain so we headed past it to the Sarapiquí River, which we were assured was a little higher than usual as well. We got paired into groups – my family was all in one boat with Gerald – and 45 minutes later we were beside a river in the rain, putting on helmets and life jackets and learning last-minute safety instructions.

Then before we knew it we were off. Gerald, nicknamed Flaco, meaning skinny in Spanish, was in the back, then my parents in front of him, Matt and Ryan in the middle, and Megan and I stationed in front of the tiny blue raft. We made our way to the Bienvenidos (welcome) rapids equipped with our little plastic oars. We got the call to row forward and plunged headfirst into a frenzy of waves. Megan and I got slapped in the face more times than I could count by the water rushing over the front of the boat and I couldn’t see a thing for the three minutes it took us to get through that first rapid. Laughter from the back and some shaking legs in the front, we headed straight into another rapid before we had a chance to catch our breath. The waves tipped our boat toward the right side, leaving Megan leaning out over the edge, Ryan with his butt in the water, and my dad head over heels into the waves. My mom grabbed his feet and dragged him along for a few moments before Flaco righted him, grabbed him by the straps, and dragged him back in.

“Everybody good?” he called to the boat, which earned him a few enthusiastic yes’s and a few less-than-enthusiastic okay’s. We kept following instructions, paddle forward, paddle backwards, and stop, waiting for the time when he would call for us to jump into the raft instead of remaining perilously perched on the sides. (That instruction never came.) He chatted with the other rafting guides, telling us that Joseph was on his national rafting team and that they were the second best in the country, which earned him a little more trust. We plowed along through the jungle, the rain starting and stopping and the waves pulling us down towards our destination. Ryan and Matt jumped in for a swim at one point and the rapids themselves either became or felt less dangerous after a few minutes in the raft. There was a whirlpool the almost cracked our heads along a rock wall and a few more near tips of the raft but we all made it through the rest of the hour-long trip safe and sound and soaking wet.

We disembarked along with the other 14 rafts and dropped our paddles and helmets with the men on the shoreline and made our way over to the changing rooms to wriggle into some highly anticipated dry clothing. We got a beer in exchange for our towel and snacked on some watermelon and pineapple before we loaded back into the bus and headed 5 minutes away to fill up on a traditional meal of rice, beans, plantains, and some chicken. We watched them crush sugar cane from a nearby field and tried to super sweet juice that ran the press and finally loaded the bus for the last time to head home.

It was a drowsy ride back and we were much relieved to be deposited back at our hotel around 4:00 in the afternoon, just in time to change into our swimsuits and head back to the plethora of pools. We tried all the slides and finally settled into a hot spring, only leaving to get some poolside dinner before heading back for an early night. We awoke and packed up the next day to make our way to Manuel Antonio, a park along the Pacific coast. We filled up on food and coffee before loading the car for the 5-hour ride, filled with switchbacks and car games that had filled our trips as children. We stopped off at two little stores to use the restroom. The second stop included a bridge over a crocodile-infested river that made us second guess our willingness to jump in the first river the day before. 8- and 10-foot monsters trolled the banks of the river and my dad swears he saw one that attacked a smaller, 4-foot crocodile and flipped it around like a rag doll. We watched long enough to get nervous, then made our way quickly back to the car.

Beautiful view, full of crocodiles

The rest of the drive was quick and we were dropped off at La Playa Espadilla in no time. We checked in and got situated in our rooms before taking the 3-minute walk down to the beach. We walked the length of the sand before choosing a spot to drop our towels and bags, always leaving one person guarding the bags against monkeys, we took turns running into the water and getting dashed by the waves.

It was hard to convince ourselves to get out of the warm water and sun but we did stop for lunch around 3:00 and had fish tacos, red snapper, and some calamari along with plenty of happy hour cocktails. The favorite included “guaro”, like Costa Rican moonshine. We headed back to the beach for a bit to watch parasailers and swimmers before the sand became a nuisance and we decided to go back to the hotel pool just in time for happy hour again. We chatted with our bartender, Luis, and floated around in the warm water for a few more hours before showering and going to town for some more shopping and some food. We ended the night early enough that I was able to wake up and enjoy the early morning sun with some Capuchin monkeys hopping from tree to tree for company.

After my family awoke, we headed to breakfast at the hotel. We had our waiter laughing as a few of us ordered two entrees and were served up heaping plates of pancakes, omelets, and toast. The rest of Tuesday morning was spent speeding through the water on a catamaran. After coating ourselves in sunscreen, we boarded the boat with about 20 others and took off out to the water. We skirted the shoreline, enjoying the views of the mountainous land and passing by Manuel Antonio Nature Park. We zipped around to follow some dolphins that were playing in the water before heading back to a little cove. After a few hours, we all pulled on flippers and snorkels and dropped into the water for half an hour of swimming around. We circled a lava rock, following the colorful fish that made the area their home.

After swimming around for a bit, we headed back to the boat to zoom off on slides and jump off the upper deck to the water 12 feet below. We ended with a lunch of grilled fish and pasta salad before making our way back to land, wishing we could have stayed aboard just a bit longer. We headed straight to the pool when we got back and spent some time with Luis again, floating in the pool or playing pool while most members of the family picked their teams for March Madness. The boys spent some time in the ocean while the girls got in a few minutes reading and we all came together around 4:30 pm.

Our hotel had an exclusive walking path through the nature preserve and we were dying to check it out. After seeing plenty of monkeys, we were hoping for something new and got it right away with a sloth, tucked high in a tree. We continued down the path in the silence, looking at the foliage and scanning the trees for something new but the one little sloth was all we got. We made our way back to the hotel and then after a few minutes downtown, scoping out some souvenir shops and checking out the dinner options, we were back at the restaurant at our hotel. The kind staff at La Playa Espadilla was too hard to turn down.

We sat down at the table, made of a lacquered halved tree trunk, and settled down for our two free bottles of wine to pair with our entrees. The night was lit up by strings of lights hanging from the trees and we ordered fish tacos, seafood rice, and salmon with a wine sauce. About halfway through the meal, a power surge dropped the meal into darkness but the staff was ready with a sea of candles that lit the rest of the meal. We enjoyed a slow night there with the lights finally coming on in time for lemon pie, chocolate cake, and a scoop of ice cream.

The next morning was one of our earlier starts, with a transfer from Manuel Antonio back to the San Jose area. We packed up our things, checked out, and posted up in front of the hotel by the van we thought was ours. A few minutes later, a stout man came down the path from the direction of the restaurant, smiling when he saw us.

“Are you with me?” He asked, pointing at our things. “Cheri, for 6?”

I nodded and he charged forward, hand outstretched.

“I’m Hermán,” he offered, shaking our hands and then energetically packing our suitcases into the back of the car.

“I didn’t see you so I went to the restaurant for some coffee. I can’t survive without my coffee,” he chattered.

“Where are you from?” He continued as we started to load into the car. He launched into a loud rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, albeit with some interesting lyrics, when we answered.

By this time, we were all loaded into the car but Hermán paused. He pointed out the window at some bougainvilleas.

“Do you know that flower?” He asked. We nodded and without a pause, he asked, “what color do you think the flower is? Hint, they are all the same.” We answered with pink, red, purple, blue, yellow, and finally black and white when he shot down all our answers.

“No,” he said, climbing out of the van and grabbing a handful, “the flower is yellow. These are all colored leaves but the flower itself is yellow. A bee would never see this, it’s too small,” he said, holding up a tiny flower. “Now you know.” My mom only grumbled a little that she had, in fact, said yellow but the car was already off.

As we pulled away from the hotel and onto the road, Hermán told us about himself. He was previously a tour guide but had been fired just a few weeks ago because a group of seniors had complained. He rattled off the history of Manuel Antonio and asked questions but barely paused for answers. Ryan and Megan put in headphones about this time but the rest of us were treated to renditions of the British, Canadian, Russian, German, French, and Mexican national anthems. 50 minutes into the ride, he finally took a breath after asking us what we could feel on the road.

“Smooth?” My dad guessed.

“No, not yet,” Hermán answered with a shake of his finger.

“Bumpy?” My brother tried a little later.

“No, not yet,” Herman scolded. Ten minutes later he asked what we felt. We shared a confused look but Hermán didn’t wait for an answer. “It went like this,” he said, his hand making waves in the air. “It is from the lava fields under the earth,” (or something to that effect. I admit, I missed it.)

After that lesson, he launched into more stories about his childhood, his limited knowledge of Russian, the number of indigenous people in Costa Rica, and his disdain for “boring” straight roads. He pulled off the road suddenly and crossed the street, leaving us scratching our heads until he came back a few minutes later, a fist full of something he had picked up off the ground.

“It’s the national tree of Costa Rica,” he explained, unpeeling on seed. “Very beautiful, it’s like a maraca.”

The rest of the trip continued much the same. Twice, Hermán announced that he was pulling off for his coffee. “Driver needs his coffee!” We grew slowly quieter in the back seat as car sickness did its work but he didn’t seem to mind. He pointed at the straightaway toll road that would lead us to San Jose as we drove past it. “This way is just as fast. I just like it better,” as we made our way onto a winding road.

About this time, I laid down in the backseat and closed my eyes. My dad kept Hermán busy, asking questions and answering his. A few minutes after laying down, I heard Hermán say “I see the kids have fallen asleep. They don’t want to listen to me?” I glanced over and saw my brother’s eyes were closed as well. That all changed a few minutes later when whatever story Hermán was telling ended with a pair of earsplitting screeches. I believe it was some kind of bird but, whatever it was, it shot me up in my seat. I thought better of laying down after that.

The ride, which was meant to be 2 hours and 50 minutes, was drawing near hour 4 when Hermán finally said we were almost there. As our hotel came into view, he serenaded us with a final rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “I did it my way” before depositing us, shell shocked, outside of our hotel. It was all we could do to wait until he left (which was only after he came into the hotel to have yet another cup of coffee) to start laughing.

It took me a few minutes of lying down to finally settle my stomach after the bumpy ride in. After some breaths, my dad and I headed to the lobby to try to book a taxi downtown. We had a long conversation with the concierge, talking about her recommendations for the area, before heading to, would you believe it, Denny’s for lunch. After Denny’s, we made our way to the pool to enjoy some time in the sun before starting the 50-minute taxi drive downtown in rush hour traffic.

We were dropped outside the oldest hotel in Costa Rica and spent some time walking around the area, dodging foot traffic and stopping by a grocery store for some snacks for the next day. We hung out in a park and saw where my brother would be staying in a few days before making our way to Nuestra Tierra for dinner. We got there a little early and ordered some margaritas and two shared plates of meat, chicken, seafood, and rice, as well as chips and guacamole. We ended with some rice pudding and another piece of cake before a quick ride back to the hotel and falling asleep.

Friday we woke up at 7:00 for our full day tour in the area. A bus, originally scheduled for 8:05, picked us up at 8:40 and we crawled in the van with 20 or so fellow travelers and headed up the mountain. The first step was Doka coffee plantation, a Starbucks plantation. Our guide, Jose, gave us a rundown of what we would be doing at the first stop. We started with breakfast and, of course, a coffee tasting. After that, we followed Jose down to see the growing coffee plants, hear about the harvesting techniques, look at the machinery used to harvest, and finally going to see the roasting and packaging room. After the tour, we went back to the shop with another tasting room (the group favorite was peaberry, a coffee with a single instead of the usual double bean) to pick up some souvenir bags of coffee before loading up the bus.

After that, we headed for the Poas volcano, a volcano that was still active and had actually erupted suddenly in 2017 and been closed most of 2017 and 2018 before finally being re-opened to the public. We got plenty of safety information from Jose before we parked and headed for the tour center. We all got our helmets, meant to protect us from potential flying rocks, and headed up to the volcano.

We arrived at the cloud-covered overlook and instantly recognized the all-concrete bunkers we were supposed to use to take cover from the potential eruptions. One member of our group, who had been transferred up early, said he had gotten a great view of the bubbling volcano before the clouds rolled in but, by the time we arrived, you couldn’t see more than 10 feet past the railing. We shivered a bit in the high altitude and stared into the thick white clouds, counting down our 20 minutes with sinking stomachs. We found the dents and chunks made by the unexpected explosion 2 years earlier but our view remained less-than-inspiring. Jose regaled us with stories about the view on a clear day but, cold and disappointed, we turned around to head back to the bus.

Before …

  Just then, the wind picked up and, lo and behold, it was enough to push the clouds away and reveal the steaming volcano just beyond us. It was clear enough for us to see 4 volcanologists walking on the crust of the volcano and realize that a lot of the thick cloud was due to the working volcano. We were grateful for the extra few minutes allowed to us as we walked back to the bus and looked at the pictures we had managed to capture as we continued to the third and final stop of the day.

After the clouds cleared

We ended with a trip to La Paz, an animal rescue and waterfall walk. We unloaded to trek through the preserve, which was now home to hundreds of animals that had been rescued, mostly from illegal pet situations. We saw hummingbirds, toucans, macaws, sloths, and snakes, both venomous and harmless. We stopped for a buffet lunch before seeing the big cats and butterflies. We ended with a hike down along the 5 waterfalls before boarding the bus and making our way back to the hotels. We said goodbye to our fellow tour-takers and made it back just in time for an evening full of March Madness at the casino across the street.

The final day came much too fast for all of us. We spent a relaxing day laying by the pool, punctuated by the airplanes taking off overhead. We tried (and failed) to avoid sunburns and soaked in as much sun and relaxation as we could on the last day. Ryan and I were starting to sneeze, a bad sign for things to come, as we lounged by the pool. Then, after dinner at Rosti Pollo and a hard goodbye, Ryan and I headed to the airport for our 9:00 pm flight.

The ride home was not quite as fun as the rest of the trip. We started with a 1-hour delay. Then, after boarding at 9:30 pm, we were told that there were heavy winds and, in order to take off, we had to head towards the mountain instead of toward the sea as usual. This take-off required us to drop some weight, which meant we would have to stop off on an island just off of Venezuela to refuel before continuing the 13-hour flight home We shared a nervous look, having only a 2-hour layover in Amsterdam, as the flight began. Those sniffles we had earlier grew into horrible pressure headaches and, as the 13-hour flight stretched on, we grew more and more miserable. I tried to sleep anyway I could think of, including curling up in a ball on the floor when we were on the ground to refuel. The hours moved slowly and I was growing delirious by the time the pilot announced we were finally landing.

Fortunately, the airline had our next tickets already booked and, after another painful take off, an hour flight, and a bumpy landing, we were driving back to our house just an hour and a half later than expected. We collapsed into a well-deserved night of sleep at 10:30 pm and I can say, I’ve never loved my bed more.

It took about a week to fully recover but, safe on the other side and feeling much better, I can happily relive the “trip of a lifetime”, surrounded by my family and filled with sunshine, laughter, and wonderful memories.

Pura Vida It was August when we discovered that my brother and sister, both attending separate colleges, and my mom, who works at a pre-school, all had the same spring breaks.

[kenziechance94]

About Last Night

I am currently sitting in the airport waiting to board my flight and I’m going on two hours of sleep, so I’m pretty tired (but it’s worth it). I’m reminiscing about the last 24 hours of my life, and I am in complete awe. As a writer, you would think that I would know just what to say, but alas, even writers are at a loss for words sometimes. I don’t know how this is going to come out, but I am going to try my best.

I have been listening to East of Eli’s music since his first EP, “Nothing Ordinary,” came out in 2014 (if you haven’t heard it, check it out). I was lucky enough to see EOE at The Troubadour in LA in March, and seeing him live for the first time was like a dream. Nathan was absolutely amazing, and I knew that I wanted to see him again. So when he announced a concert in New York, I wanted to go. I had never been to New York, and what better excuse to go than to see an artist that has impacted you so much, am I right? Anyway, I looked at the date and realized that it was going to be during my spring break (I’m a writing student at the Vancouver Film School), and I was already planning on going home to KC to visit family and friends. I immediately thought of my sister, and figured that maybe we could make a little sister trip out of it. Unfortunately, the concert was a 21+ venue and my sister is only 15, so that wouldn’t work. Luckily, EOE was able to sell out that venue, so that allowed them to set up another concert the same week for all ages. At that moment, I was like, “I don’t know how I’m going to make this happen, but I am going to get my sister and I to that show if it’s the last thing I do!” And I did! After lots of negotiating with my parents, they finally agreed to let us go. So the week of my spring break came around, and I got to catch up with family and friends. Yesterday morning, my sister and I got up at 4am to make our flight to New York. After a layover and a grounded plane in Milwaukee, we finally made it to New York. I love cities, they just amaze me, so as soon as we were outside of the airport, I was ready to explore. My poor sister on the other hand is a country girl at heart. She lives for trap shooting and riding dirt bikes (we are the complete opposite in every way, but we are really great friends), so she was not as thrilled about being in the big city. After getting lost with our cab driver, and an hour drive to our hotel took us three hours, we were tired, but we knew we should try and see some of the city. So of course, me being the pizza lover that I am (I even brought my PJ pants that have pizza hearts all over them with me), told my sister we had to try authentic NY pizza while we were there, so we did. I was stuffed by the end of it, but it was definitely delicious. We then decided to embark on an adventure and take the subway to Central Park (luckily I’ve had experience with subways in Vancouver and in Berlin, so it wasn’t that difficult to figure out). Central Park was really pretty, but we didn’t get to stay long because we had to get back to our hotel to get ready for the concert.

Now, the concert. The concert is where the real magic began. We get to the venue and the line is insane to get in which just fills my heart with such joy to see so many people coming out to support Nathan and Chyler. We finally get inside and it’s about 15 minutes or so before EOE comes out. Now, for those who don’t know, this past week has been a rocky road for Nathan and his family. Last Monday, he got a call telling him that his father was losing his battle with cancer. He spent that next week by his side, and he wanted to cancel the shows (rightfully so), but his dad said no. His dad’s wish for him was to “carry on” (from “The Siege,” which according to Nathan is his dad’s favorite song) and play these shows in New York. I can only imagine how difficult it was for Nathan to have to make that choice, knowing that at any moment, his dad could no longer be on this earth. But Nathan made the choice, and he chose to follow his father’s wishes and continue on to NY. That only made me admire Nathan more than I already did because that kind of choice takes an enormous amount of strength. This just showed more clearly the depth of his character and the size of his heart. I have such respect for him. Then on top of that, yesterday, T-Mobile shut of Nathan and Chyler’s phone numbers, so they had no way of contacting each other. Luckily, Nathan and Chyler have some of the most amazing fans out there, and they were able to get the attention of the CEO of T-Mobile. Because of all of this, they got their phone numbers back. There is power in numbers, and when you set your mind to something, there really is nothing you can’t do. This was such a great example of that. You would think that this was enough adversity for one family in one week, but sadly this was not the last part of sad news. Nathan announced when he got on stage that there were some issues with Chyler’s flight and she was currently grounded in Toronto. Chyler was of course upset because she had missed Tuesdays’s concert to be with her kids and family in LA, and so she wanted to be here. Of course, everyone was sad, but it was understandable. Things happen, they suck, but we have to make the most of the situation and just keep going. Nathan and Chyler, being the awesome humans that they are, said that they were going to do everything in their power to get Chyler there and to make sure she got to meet every single person. Nathan continued on with the show, adding in some fun things to try and drag out the time, especially when we found out that Chyler was finally in the air and so she was on her way. Like always, he was amazing! His voice is incredible, and his lyrics are beyond compare. I have to say, EOE at The Troubadour was great, but there was something extra special about last night. Nathan brought multiple fans onto the stage, he goofed off, and he even tried singing a song from his first EP. The last one was the best because he’s only human, and so he was having a hard time remembering all of the words. The concert eventually ended, but he wanted us to hang out until Chyler could get there. We went to the front room, and I went with my sister towards the bar area and sat. Chyler showed up like 30 minutes later, and everyone was so excited. Chyler is a trooper. She was going on maybe two hours of sleep after finishing up her last scene of the season on Supergirl, and yet she was still here for her fans. Nathan and Chyler performed two songs together acoustically, and it was beautiful. After that, they made their way to an area of the room to do meet and greets. I stayed with my sister at the bar because: 1. just being in super large crowds in enclosed spaces makes be kind of anxious and 2. I had met Chyler briefly before, so I wanted to make sure everyone else got their chance. If I did’ t get to say hi, it wasn’t as big of a deal. So I was at the bar, and I started talking with the bartenders. John and Eric were so much fun! They offered up so awesome conversation, and they were great company while I was there with my sister. My sister and I had a blast chatting with them, and then Dre, the security guard, when he came and joined us (Dre actually thought I was an undercover cop, so that was both funny and awesome at the same time). I want to take a quick moment to thank all of the people working last night at The Knitting Factory in Brooklyn because they went above and beyond for us. This definitely includes John and Eric. John was sweet and he gave me a RedBull for free since I was tired, and then when he went to the store, he got my sister a banana. It was nice to make a friend in NY that said that if we were ever there again, they have an extra bed that we could crash in. I also got a sweet fox mask thing from Dre as a souvenir, so that’s pretty cool. Nathan came over at one point to thank John and Eric himself. He told them about everything that had happened that day, and how much it meant to him that they were doing this for us. John and Eric continued to keep my sister and I company until we ended up having to move outside because the bar was closing. My sister and I got in line outside and began waiting our turn. Nathan, again, being the amazing human he is, decided to give each of us still waiting a t-shirt for free. My sister and I were at the end of the line, so when he got to us, he stayed and talked for a minute. The first words out of my sister’s mouth were, “Brr it’s cold out here,” so Nathan so properly responded with, “There must be some Torros in the atmosphere.” My sister, whom I’ve been trying for a while to get to watch Bring It On, just stood there. I high-fived Nathan of course, because the reference was just beautiful. Gotta love some Jan the man. He then gave my sister a giant hug because she was absolutely exhausted. He was like a dad comforting his daughter, and it was such an amazing sight to see. He is just so genuine, and I can’t believe I’ve had the honor of meeting him. We eventually made it up to the front of the line to talk to Chyler, and Chyler gave my sister the biggest hug in the world. Like I said before, I have had the incredible pleasure of meeting Chyler before, but the only thing I’ve gotten to say to her was hi and that’s about it, so I was looking forward to a hug (my friend, Dened, has gotten many from her and she likes to say how great they are). I finally got my hug, and it was great. She’s just so sweet, gentle and kind, so of course her hug was very comforting. There was so much that I wanted to say, but I didn’t want to keep my sister out any longer. She had already came all the way to NY just for me, and was out at 5am when she had only gotten three hours of sleep the night before. My sister is a rockstar, and I am pretty lucky to have her (even if we disagree on 90% of things).

Last night, only proceeded to reaffirm all of my beliefs about Nathan and Chyler. I love what they are doing. They are using their power of influence to not only impact and change the community around them, but also the global community. They are such amazing people with huge hearts. They believe in family, and putting family first. Even though we aren’t their direct family, they treated us like family last night. They took their time, as tired as they were, to speak to each and every one of us. I admire them so much for that. What I love about them, is that they are open about their old baggage and dirty laundry, letting it be known, so that they can hopefully inspire others. They don’t try and hide their faults or their downfalls (we are all human after all). Along with that, I love the representation they are for the Christian community. Too many times nowadays, when people hear you are a Christian, they automatically assume you are going to be judgmental and rude, which sadly is not too far off for a lot of them. Chyler and Nathan on the other hand, are great embodiments of what it truly means to be a Christian (in my opinion). They show so much love to everyone, and Chyler is such an example, especially as she is playing the character of Alex Danvers on The CW’s, Supergirl. On the show, Alex recently realized that she was gay when Detective Maggie Sawyer entered her life. They are now together and are so cutely named, Sanvers. I think that this is one of the greatest things she could be doing for many reasons. One, her relationship on the show is such a healthy example of a relationship (especially for a queer couple). Then, I feel like this is a great thing because she is a Christian. She is showing that love is love, and it shouldn’t matter as long as you love each other. I think that that is a beautiful thing. I admired her so much more when this storyline came to be because of the impact I knew it would have. I struggle with being a Christian and supporting the LGBTQ community because so many Christians are so against it. I just don’t understand how a God who loves all (even the murderers), could hate someone who happens to fall in love with someone of the same sex. And Chyler has been outspoken about this as well. I remember watching an interview where she talked about this, and I cried. I cried because it was great to see someone with such influence who has the same beliefs as me. I am so grateful that Nathan and Chyler are in this world, spreading love and kindness with all that they do. Thank you for being prime examples of what it means to be human, and to love your neighbor. Thank you for taking so much time out of your day last night (and this morning) to meet each and every one of your fans. Most people wouldn’t do something like that, so thank you. You two are true heroes, and I pray that God blesses you immensely. I also pray that as your family is going through this difficult time, that you are able to find solace in him and in each other. Thank you again for everything. Thank you for being the role models this world needs. Thank you for inspiring others with your music and your words. Thank you for being superheroes to us all. Thank you.

Wow! This was a lot more than I thought I was going to say, but I wanted to get this all out. The past 24 hours truly has been magical, and I will never forget it. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I can’t wait until I get to see this amazing band again in July when they perform at The Roxy along with City of Sound and State to State (both of whom are amazing and deserve your attention as well). Thank you for taking your time to read this, it means a lot. I hope everyone has a great day!

[myeclecticallybeautifulsoul]

Hell Holds No Surprises For Me Anymore...

Jeffrey Lambert

May 2, 2016

Flavor: Gold Bears

This is a cautionary tale and - unlike most of the other reviews on this product - this is a true story and its authenticity can be qualified by a small news item that appeared in the Toronto Star's local news section during the month of April in 2013, much to my chagrin.

I would consider myself a prudent man. Not given to bouts of outspokenness or craving attention, and certainly not one to rock the boat. On any given day I can be found reading a crime novel on a park bench in the middle of the city, soaking in the opulence of nature while nibbling on my tuna fish sandwiches and fending off the voracious gulls and squirrels that threaten to spoil my repose. This is me. Law-abiding and introspective. Which is why it came as a shock to me to find myself incarcerated because of the Devil's Confectionery, Satan's Sweetmeat, Lucifer's Lozenges - the horror that is known as 'Haribo Sugar Free Gummy Bears".

I'll set the scene: It was late winter / early spring in Toronto and the city had just been digging itself out from a late season snow-storm. I was heading to Pearson International Airport for a redeye flight to Amsterdam in order to give the Dutch arm of our company some training on the new software that had been installed (I'm deliberately being vague to prevent my place of work from being linked in any way to the incident that occurred). I had just finished packing, checked the time and found I was running late, my flight was at 7:10 PM and it was now almost 5:00 PM. Cursing softly, I ran out to the car and threw my bags in the trunk, hitting the gas a little harder than usual in my haste to make it to the Long Term Parking Lot as soon as possible. Luckily traffic was light on the 401 and I made it to the airport in record time, but knew that my chances of making the flight were still at risk if I didn't use my time wisely.

I hadn't eaten since lunch, and I was feeling a bit hungry, my stomach rumbling loudly in protestation, which caused me to look around at the other travellers rushing past me in the busy terminal, mortified that my bodily noises might be heard by others. I briskly checked my watch and decided that I had enough time to grab a quick snack before going through the baggage check and security, and would get something more substantial once I was checked through security. I spotted a vending machine nestled in a relatively low-traffic corner of the terminal and rushed over, already pulling out my credit-card and mentally assessing what I had a craving for so as to save time interacting with the machine. My eyes scanned the colourful array of confection quickly, coming to rest on a tantalizing, rainbow-coloured bag of gummy bears with the simple white and red logo "Haribo" emblazoned across the bag in what appeared to be a slightly tweaked Helvetica Rounded font.

Now I'd to pause here in the story for a moment to underscore the importance of making proper choices. I was hungry. When you're hungry, you should eat FOOD. FOOD is defined as "a nutritious substance that people consume to maintain life", this is what food is. These days, the definition of the word 'food' has been bastardized and the meaning has been broadened to include veritably any material that can be digested, or rather, chewed and swallowed without causing death or severe illness. "Haribo Sugar Free Gummy Bears" are NOT food. They aren't even from this planet. I imagine their origins being conceived in a boardroom in hell by a top team of Creative Pain Administers, with senior level Demons rubbing their hands together in ghoulish delight as Hell's Chief Chemist slowly lifts the veil on their new creation.

The point here being, I made a very, very, very poor choice. I pushed the button and the vending machine ejected the brightly coloured bag into my awaiting hands. I had always liked gummy bears - they were bright but rather innocuous, they weren't overly sweet so as to become cloying and - of course - each candy came in the visage of a rather happy, docile bear reminiscent of the picture one's mind's eye holds of all anthropomorphic bears from Yogi to Winnie.

The way I figured it, I was taking a bit of a holiday from life, so I could relax my fastidiously regimented daily schedule a little to allow for some frivolity. After all, I was going to be in Amsterdam come morning with 16 hours to kill before I had to be training the Dutch employees, maybe I would take a trip down to one of the Coffee Shops in the Red-Light District and really let my hair down! No, I wouldn't do that. I would see that area of the city from the bus as I went to the hotel where I would eat at the hotel restaurant and drink sparkling water. So I'd better enjoy the gummy bears, my one extravagance to commemorate my break from routine.

I joined the queue in the KLM line, which was mercifully short, most likely because all of the passengers for my flight had already been checked through as the flight was scheduled to depart in an hour. I checked my watch again, frowned, and absent-mindedly opened the bag of "Haribo Sugar Free Gummy Bears" and began to munch on them as the line slowly advanced. To be fair, they tasted fine - just like every other manufacturer's brand of the colourful candy, and they were sugar-free to boot. This is what made the whole incident that followed so baffling - if they had tasted 'off' or 'different' I most likely wouldn't have continued to shovel them into my mouth absent-mindedly while daydreaming about what I would order to eat from room-service in my hotel in Amsterdam.

As I gave the attendant my e-ticket and she weighed my bags, the first of the pains began in my stomach. I thought nothing of it at first, chalking it up to the fact that I needed something more substantial than gummy worms to tackle my hunger, but over the course of the next five-minutes the shooting pain began to come in more rapid succession. At this point, I had my boarding pass printed and rubbing my stomach a little, I proceeded to security. I briefly entertained the thought of trying to find a restroom before going through security, but at that point my discomfort was manageable and I didn't think it was get any worse, certainly not within the amount of time it would take to clear security.

I joined the line and started fishing for my passport to present to the agent checking tickets, I felt a thin sheen of sweat break out on my forehead and underarms, and my features flushed for a moment as a wave of heat washed over me. I didn't pay it much heed as going through security always caused me great anxiety and I chalked it up to pre-flight jitters. It was only as I stood face to face with the agent and handed her my passport and ticket that I had a glimpse of the agony that was about to begin. It felt like time rippled for a moment, as if my consciousness buckled so intense was the pain that fired through my bowels. I grimaced spastically and emitted a low moan, and felt myself take an involuntary step sideways. Stars shot though my head briefly and my vision blurred and then snapped back into focus. The agent was staring at me with slight consternation and asked me if I was alright. I pulled myself together, stood up straight and declared that I was fine, mortified that I had had a lapse of decorum not only in public but at the security clearance in an airport!

As I fumbled off my belt to go through the metal detector, the pain in my stomach increased and I practically had to sit on the floor to take my shoes off, terrified of what would happen if I bent at the middle to do it. It was becoming increasingly more evident to me that this wasn't just a stomach ache. No, this was something much worse. As a child I had had a bout of diarrhea after a trip to Mexico with my family, I remember the feeling of nausea that swept through me before my child self had surrendered to the gas pains and parked myself on the toilet for an hour, s***ting until I felt like I didn't have any bones left. And that was how I was feeling now, with several key differences - the pain was worse, the sense of an impending bowel movement was so formidable it gave me temporary amnesia, and it took all of my will-power, all of it, to clench my butt cheeks together to prevent my sphincter from exploding.

A sudden shock of pain racked my body, and I half wondered if I was going to give birth to a Tasmanian Devil. The crazy, fever-induced image of said cartoon animal chasing Bugs Bunny through the splashy, volcanic s***-kettle that was my stomach, caused me to illicit a short, maniacal bark of laughter as I approached the Metal detector, a wild, distant look in my eyes, sweat now beginning to poor off of my like a long-distance runner in Kenya. The security agent on the other side of the detector shot a quick glance over to her co-worker who narrowed his eyes and made a subtle movement towards his holster. My breathing became uneven as I entered the metal detector and I realized with alarm that I had taken off my socks without even registering it, and one of my shirt tails was untucked at the front. I held my breath, my eyes bulging dangerously from my head as the machine scanned me. As I shakily moved forward towards the agent for a pat down, my stomach began to illicit sounds that can only be described as otherworldly. It started off a sort-off bubbling sound heard from afar and grew in pitch and intensity at an alarming rate. My jaw dropped in shock as what I can only describe as the sound of an agonized wailing alley-cat in heat with a persistent Doppler effect added to it's voice emitted from some nether-region of my intestines. The officer's eyes widened in alarm, and she kept her eyes glued to my stomach as she thoroughly patted me down. As she reached my shins, I felt my innards suddenly expand, and plummet towards my rectum. With cat-like reflexes I squeezed my sphincter shut with what seemed like nano-seconds to spare, and I knew, I KNEW that if I didn't get the bathroom immediately I would s*** myself.

With a Herculean effort and all of the strength that I could muster, I forced my buttcheeks together knowing that one false move would open the floodgates. I began to walk like a duck, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, not even caring now what other people were seeing in front of them - a disheveled, barefoot 40-year-old business man, red-faced and bulgy-eyed, sweating profusely, shaking slightly and walking without bending his knees. With single-minded intensity I grabbed my carry-on, shoes and socks from out of the plastic tub that had passed the x-ray inspection, and without putting anything back on, I turned on my heels with the intention of finding the nearest restroom and slowly dying there one squirt at a time.

But that's not what happened.

I turned to go and found myself staring at three armed agents who stopped me and asked if I would follow them. "Why, what's the matter?" I stammered, wincing slightly as the act of speech seemed to strain the tenuous and extremely fragile truce I had negotiated between my bowels and the tempest that raged within. "I have to go the bathroom, RIGHT NOW" I pleaded. "Just follow us please", they said, leaving no room for argument. The other travellers clearing the security check stared with curiosity and revulsion at the spectacle unfolding before them, whispering amongst themselves and hurrying to pack up their belongings and get as far away from me as possible, no doubt assuming that the airport had nabbed some sort of domestic terrorist. If I hadn't been feverishly trying to hold back the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, I likely would have died of shame.

With each step I took towards the room that they ushered me into, I felt that my legs would give way. I marvelled at how strong the human will could be. Marvelled at what was essentially patching a hole in the Hoover Dam with bubblegum could actually be sustained indefinitely. Maybe I would make it through this ordeal after all. The room they brought me into was an examination room. I had pretty much stopped registering details of my environment as my consciousness closed off all but the absolutely necessary functions - breathing, ability to walk - but I snapped back to reality when I heard the snap of rubber. The slow dawning of realization poked through my agony and stoic resolve as I turned to face an agent dawning rubber gloves.

"Sir, we are going to perform a cavity search on you", a young fresh-faced agent stated in a firm but emotionless voice. His short-cropped, blond hair was immaculate and for a crazy moment I wondered if he was an actor and this was all some sort of elaborate practical joke done to amuse bored kids watching Youtube. He must have taken my tortured silence for resistance because he looked at me sharply and said "Lower your pants and underwear please, and face the desk". Panic started to grip me in it's icy grasp and the sudden adrenaline threatened to destroy my sphincters bulwarks and rend my anus in two. I inhaled sharply and with a pained gasp I doubled up my efforts to clench my cheeks together. "Sir, please", I begged deferring to this kid in an act of desperation, "I have to go to the bathroom. You can follow me into the stall if you need to but I had some bad "Haribo Sugar Free Gummy Bears" and now I feel like'", but they had stopped listening and smirked at each other, two of the other agents - a tall, dark-haired female and a shorter, balding fat man - looked away from me and I could see them shaking a little as they stifled their laughs. "Sir, face the wall, put your hands on the desk and spread your cheeks" the young agent stated, a lop-sided grin on his face. "But'", I began to protest, and then a fresh shock of pain forced me to stop and lean on the table for support as an ungodly howling rose from my stomach, something between the dying moans of a Wholly Mammoth, and the sound of bubble-wrap popping underwater. I exhaled shakily and my focus began to narrow, as I rallied for the final battle. Shaking uncontrollably and sweat literally raining down onto the tabletop in from of me, I turned to face the wall and heard a meek childlike voice, pleading from somewhere in the room. "Please", it said, and then again, "Please". From somewhere within me my mind recognized that this sound had issued from me, although my consciousness had now begun to separate from my body and I held my breath and prayed to God for strength.

"He probably has some heroin or something up there that opened up", the female guard said as a part of me that hadn't escaped into the ether yet acknowledged that she was behind me to my left, "probably high as a kite, LOOK at him", she said. The shorter guard agreed with a snort, off to my right.

"Spread your cheeks" the young agent said, his voice directly behind me and lower than the other two, "and bend over".

"Pleasegodpleasegodpleasegodpleasegod", I whispered in a desperate, maniacal mantra, not even aware of my surroundings anymore. I felt like I was lost in an opium fog with half-snatched images and sounds filtering through to create a nonsensical version of reality. Another volley of pain tore through me and I involuntarily leaned forward over the desk, my focus completely narrowed now to a spot on the wall two feet in front of me, a curious imperfection in the what seemed to be white-washed stone wall. It was a dark blotch about five millimetres long and shaped like a smiling bear, a yellow dancing bear. No, a green bear. No, red. It was all the colours of the rainbow. My god, it was beautiful.

It just took something as simple as a slight breeze to trigger Armegeddon. That's all. No trumpets, no fanfare, no fire raining from the heavens, no dogs and cats living together in harmony, no finger on the button, no prophet to predict it, no nothing. As I stared at the rainbow bear smiling and dancing in front of me, my mouth agape, drooling, eyes glazed and blood-shot, face coated with a sheen of sweat, I heard the softest sound, an exhalation from the young agent behind me, and then at the same instant the warm air of his breath feather across my butt cheeks. For just a moment, maybe less, maybe a split second, even a nanosecond, I felt the presence of God there with me in that room as neurons began to misfire at a blinding rate, nerve ending bristled and muscles twitched reflexively. I stood on the brink with one foot hovering over the edge, and then without taking a step, I found myself plummeting.

With a sound like an extra large plastic ketchup bottle being run over by a Mac truck, my sphincter released. The pressure of the blast pushed me hard into the desk and the legs of the desk screeched as they scraped across the floor. My body remained rigid for a moment and I experienced a relief that can only be described as orgasmic in it's purity. My eyes rolled back in my head and my tongue lolled out of my head like a half-retarded dog and I emitted a low, sustained groan that grew in pitch as the filthy torrent pushed its way out of my body. Tremors wracked my body and I must have looked like a fish out of water with an endless stream of s*** firing out of its ass. Other sounds and sensations started to filter in now as my consciousness began to materialize once more. The muffled scream of a dungeon filled with prisoners near death radiated from my stomach, the rushing sound of litres of liquid trying to escape through an aperture too small to accommodate it all at the same time, the omnipresent sound of chunky liquid spattering against a hard surface with great force, the high-pitched screaming of a woman's voice calling out to God, another voice sobbing uncontrollably imploring to "make it stop!!!" and my own ecstatic, monotone wail.

When my ordeal had eventually run its course, I was left panting for breath and wobbly legged, half-crying, half-laughing with relief, barely lucid and feeling as if I had birthed an elephant. My colon felt like someone had poured chile sauce all over it and then sent in a colony of fire ants to eat it. Through my sobs I heard the sound of dripping, like when the sprinklers are eventually turned off after an office fire, or after a thunderstorm when the willow that overhangs a pond continues to rain down long after the sky has stopped. From behind me, the sobbing continued and I heard someone trying to speak into a walkie-talkie but nonsensical words were all that the man could speak, which sounded like the ravings of a lunatic.

With great relief, I slowly pulled myself off the table, legs trembling, my stomach eliciting one last sound, a loud prolonged gas bubbling that eerily resembled a pig orgasm. I slowly turned my head to survey the devastation and in that instant, if I had had a pencil or some other sharp object, I probably would have gouged my eyes out in revulsion. And the smell. The smell was enough to drive a man insane. It was the stench of rotting potatoes mixed with sulphur and ammonia, cooked in a broth of chicken feces and left to age for two weeks in a yeasty stew at the bottom of a French outhouse. After half a whiff of this ghoulish brine, I immediately stopped breathing through my nose but the taste was to remain in the back of my throat for months to come.

The young agent had taken the brunt of the foul witch's brew, and at first I couldn't process what I was seeing. I thought somehow the young blond kid had been spirited away and replaced by a brown Golem, or a ATV rider that had spent the better part of a day driving through every mud puddle he could find after a torrential downpour. With some degree of compartmentalization I came to understand that for some unfathomable reason this kid hadn't moved - or hadn't been able to move - through the entire fecal deluge. He had weathered the entire assault head-on like some sort of hero from Greek Mythology. I had given this poor schmuck a one-man s*** bukkake that would make a Brazillian pornographer retch with disgust, and he was still in the same position he must have been from the moment of first impact. I tried to comprehend how he must be feeling, what he must be going through psychologically, but it became evident very quickly that he had become very broken. No doubt forced so deeply within himself once the firehose has been turned on that there was little to no hope of him ever coming back from it, certainly not without extensive psychotherapy or a lobotomy. I looked beyond his quivering, catatonic crouched form to see a perfect outline of him cutout on the white wall behind him, either side filled in with a dripping, opaque layer of alternately pulpy and runny fecal stew. I noticed two quivering masses at either extremes of the room and realized they were humanoid in form, although the caterwauling that was coming from these broken creatures was just blubbering gibberish. And this was the tableau that was burnt into my mind's eye for eternity.

Needless to say, I missed my flight.

In fact the next week is a blur. I have vague recollections of an army of Hazmat clad figures looming through the brown landscape of the soiled room, the slopping sounds of rubber boats squelching in puddles of fetid detritus, uncontrollable wailing and animal-like sounds issuing from the mouths of creatures that had been traumatized beyond their capacity for being put back together, the complete loss of sensation from my waist down as I was rolled through the room on a waterproof gurney, it's wheels struggling to surf on top of the s***-soaked floor. I spent a week or so in the hospital enclosed in a well ventilated, sealed room, with suited doctor coming in on the hour to monitor my vital signs as they tried to rehydrate my body. I had apparently expelled every available drop of water from my body that was possible to sustain life without for a short period of time. All of my clothes were incinerated in the hospital's crematorium, and the soiled bag of "Haribo Sugar Free Gummy Bears" was never recovered.

This is my story. It is inconceivable to think that this kind of product can be sold legally and be misrepresented as 'food'. I was lucky, I survived. But as for the families of the survivors, and the survivors themselves, they will forever live with the trauma of the events that took place at Pearson International Airport on that snowy day in April 2013.

[yahoonews7]

GettyMOGADISHU, Somalia—Ahmed Salah Hassan walked across Africa and Latin America to get to the United States. He traversed nearly 20 national borders, hiked the Darién Gap—a 60-mile patch of untamable jungle and swamp—and braved the checks at the U.S. southern border. But Hassan, looking for freedom and safety, never found it in the United States. When he finally, legally, crossed into Brownsville, Texas, in the spring of 2015, he was detained immediately. That set off a two-year odyssey through immigration detention centers—first at the LaSalle ICE Processing Center in Louisiana, then at Etowah County Detention Center in Gadsden, Alabama, before he was deported back to Somalia, the country he’d fled nearly a decade earlier.Hassan’s story started well before Donald Trump claimed that Somali-born U.S. Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN) and other women of color in Congress should “go back” to the countries they came from. But that is what Hassan was forced to do.His time in America ended in late January 2017, less than a week after Trump’s inauguration, when he was put on a chartered flight full of deportees to Somalia. And in March of this year, Hassan died in a restaurant bombing in the Somali capital Mogadishu, killed in the sort of violence from which he’d fled in the first place. * * *The Paper Trail* * *The Daily Beast obtained Hassan’s temporary travel document issued by the Embassy of Somalia in Washington, D.C. It says he was 29 years old when he was deported. Hassan’s death certificate, issued by the Somali Sudanese Specialized Hospital, says he was 30 when he was killed. It also says he died on his way to the hospital. He was married to a woman named Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed. His daughter, Amran Ahmed Saalah, is 6 years old. Friends and family said Hassan believed there could be no life for him in Somalia, and he was right. But he was wrong about another country: There could be no life for him in the United States, either. “My country is burning, he would say,” recalls a friend and co-worker who knew Hassan in South Africa, before he decided to keep moving to the States.The policies that left Hassan imprisoned for two years, denied asylum and detained under the Obama administration, and finally deported, have accelerated at lightning speed since Trump took office. Today, more people are being held and then returned to deadly environments from which they fled than ever before, and the administration is making moves to deny asylum claims almost entirely. “I think there are numerous variables that contribute to an individual being unable to prevail with an asylum claim,” says Priscilla Olivarez, a managing attorney for immigration legal service provider American Gateways. “However, we have seen changes in policy and practice under the current administration that have made it significantly more difficult for asylum seekers (including Somalis) to win their asylum claim.”  In an interview with The Daily Beast, Hassan’s wife, Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed, said she thought that sending someone back to Somalia was like sentencing them to death. There is little doubt, certainly, that Somalia is a dangerous place to live.On Thursday the mayor of Mogadishu died from wounds received when a suicide bomber walked into his compound on July 24 in the midst of a high-level meeting, detonating bombs that killed 11 people in all. Two days before that, a car bomb killed at least 17 people at a busy checkpoint in the city. Ten days before that, 26 people were killed, and approximately 50 injured, in the southern port city of Kismayo after a complex attack on a popular hotel. Al Shabaab, the Islamist group that has pledged allegiance to al Qaeda, has claimed responsibility for all of these attacks. * * *State of Denials* * *Five days after Trump was inaugurated, he issued mandates related to immigration. One called “Border Security and Immigration Enforcement Improvements” would have the most impact on people like Hassan because it almost entirely ended the opportunity for migrants to leave detention after they arrived in the U.S. Experts and activists say this change sentenced most asylum seekers to deportation before they even went before a judge. “Asylum seekers who are denied parole and remain in detention have a much harder time finding attorneys, which asylum seekers are not guaranteed or given for free, but are crucial to winning an asylum case,” Yael Schacher, a senior advocate at Refugees International, told The Daily Beast. Before the order, migrants and asylum seekers who came to the border as "arriving aliens" would always be locked up, but would be eligible for a parole hearing that would allow them to be released (sometimes on bond) as their case proceeded. The new order said, "The Secretary shall immediately take all appropriate action to ensure that the parole and asylum provisions of Federal immigration law are not illegally exploited to prevent the removal of otherwise removable aliens.”  What that meant in practice was revealed in a memo from then-Chief of Staff John Kelly issued to the Department of Homeland Security less than a month later. “The President has determined,” he said, that “the lawful detention of aliens” deemed unfit for parole was the most sensible way  to “enforce immigration laws at our borders.” Essentially, anyone who was not paroled would be detained for the duration of the court proceedings. Parole, the memo said, should be used "sparingly.”  With these new rules, those seeking freedom via parole would need to make much stronger cases for release, furthering their chances of staying locked up even if they met parole criteria, researchers and activists contend.Since Kelly’s mandate was issued the number of people detained by ICE continues to break records. In March, The Daily Beast reported over 50,000 people were detained, an apparent all-time high. The number hasn’t gone down; as of today ICE has the current population at 52,100. Here’s How Some Africans Joined the Migrant Caravan Heading for the U.S.ICE presents reasons for denying parole as a checklist. According to documents shared with The Daily Beast, Hassan was denied parole because, as per the checklist, any documentation he submitted to prove his identity was deemed insufficient and he couldn’t prove that he was not a flight risk.  On May 30, the Southern Poverty Law Center and the ACLU filed a joint suit against the Trump administration claiming it is “categorically denying release” to detained immigrants. * * *The ICE Odyssey* * *After a short detention in Texas, Hassan was held in La Salle Detention Center in the middle of Louisiana, then after his asylum claim was denied he was moved to Etowah County Detention Center in Gadsden in northeast Alabama, according to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services.  He was in each facility for about 300 days, according to ICE.  Hassan’s wife, Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed,  said they spoke “many times” while he was in detention in the States and she in Somalia. Asked if he seemed stressed, she said, “He didn’t want to share his emotions with me, he was hiding [them].” In Gadsden, Alabama, Hassan ran into his friend Qeys Bare, a fellow Somali. Hassan and Qeys had worked together in the same mall in South Africa, before xenophobic violence there motivated them to try their luck in the States. Qeys doesn’t describe Etowah Country as a holding cell, he describes it as a “jail.”Indeed, Etowah is part-detention center, part-prison, with about 350 beds for people detained by ICE and about 500 for people in jail, says Resha Swanson, the policy and communications coordinator for Adelante Alabama Worker Center, an organization does two to four visits a month to Etowah. Swanson says inmates told her that they sometimes received a half a tomato and a slice of bread for a meal, and that there aren’t enough refrigerators so food often spoils.  “Etowah is where people are sent to be broken and to sign their deportation papers as quickly as possible,” Swanson told The Daily Beast.* * *Lawyering Down* * *As Europe slams its gates to newcomers via new policies to stop people from leaving Libya, record numbers of African refugees, migrants and asylum seekers have been attempting to come to the United States instead. According to Mexican authorities, from January to July in 2016 almost 8,000 people from Africa and Asia presented themselves at Mexican immigration checkpoints, compared to 4,261 in all of 2015 and 1,831 in 2014. A Reuters report last month with data from Mexico’s interior ministry suggests that migration from Africa this year will break records.Libya’s Migrant ‘Holding Areas’ Have Become Death CampsBesides the shift making indefinite detention extremely probable, it is now also becoming more likely that once the case is processed, the asylum claim will be denied.“It has always been very difficult to win an asylum claim,” says Carl Bon Tempo, a professor of history at the State University of New York-Albany and author of Americans at the Gate: The United States and Refugees During the Cold War. “Asylum is a very hard legal status to achieve.” To win an asylum case an applicant has to put together extensive documentation, which is often difficult to marshal when fleeing a war zone and usually requires the assistance of an immigration lawyer, who may be expensive and hard to access when one is detained. “It is especially hard for asylum seekers to find pro bono or low cost attorneys if they are transferred to detention facilities in remote areas,” says Schacher of Refugees International.  “These transfers also take them to jurisdictions of immigration judges with low asylum grant rates. Prolonged detention is isolating, traumatic and demoralizing—the food and medical care are poor, there is no education and little recreation, making phone calls is expensive. African asylum seekers have also faced discrimination and worse conditions than others. Under these circumstances, many would ‘choose’ to give up their claims.” * * *Un-Appealing* * *Hassan did not have an immigration lawyer. His case for asylum was denied in Oakdale Immigration Court in Louisiana in August 2016. The presiding judge, Agnelis Reese, has rejected every single asylum claim that has crossed her desk—over 200 hearings in five years. Hassan did not appeal the decision but Hassan’s wife, Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed, said he was surprised by the outcome: who would send someone back to Somalia? We will never know exactly why Hassan did not appeal his decision. Qeys expects that Hassan’s reasons were much the same as his. “I didn’t take the appeal,” he said in a WhatsApp message, “because I was tired in prison. I wanted to be free somewhere.” But Hassan’s wife said he didn’t feel that way. Hassan was upset to leave detention. He would rather have stayed there than come back to Somalia. Key members of the Trump administration including Stephen Miller and former Attorney General Jeff Sessions have re-ignited a long-standing argument that says many people fleeing their homes are not legitimate victims of persecution, they are economic migrants looking to optimize their situation. Sessions has long said asylum seekers are “gaming” the system.“The credible fear process was intended to be a lifeline for persons facing serious persecution. But it has become an easy ticket to illegal entry into the United States,” Sessions said in his comments to the Executive Office for Immigration Review in October, 2017, a few months after Hassan was deported.  “This argument has been going on since the 1930s,” Bon Tempo said. “You saw it in opposition to European refugees,” when many Jews were turned away from American shores. “You have people saying they're not victims of Nazi persecution, they're people trying to get out and have a better life.” As with detentions, asylum denials hit a record high under Trump, with 65 percent denied last year according to Syracuse University's Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC).This increase could be due to a backlog of cases of people that have been sitting in detention that are now getting more quickly processed because quotas have been raised for immigration judges. More than 42,000 asylum cases were decided in the fiscal year ending September 30, 2018, the most since TRAC began compiling this data in 2001.Denials climbed after former Attorney General Sessions announced women fleeing gang and domestic violence would not be granted asylum. Like detention and denials, physical deportations back to war zones have peaked under Trump, with Somalis being one of the most targeted groups. There has been a greater than 135 percent increase in the number of Somalis deported under Trump compared to the Obama administration (750 in FY 2017/2018 compared to 318 in FY 2015/2016) according to statistics from the Department of Homeland Security show. * * *Un-Safe at Home* * *Back in Somalia, Hassan looked for work, but the country’s unemployment rate is among the highest in the world—67 percent for people under 30, according to the United Nations—and he couldn’t find anything. His wife says he especially wanted to work for a travel agency.  Even though the decision to deny Hassan asylum was made under the Obama administration, and Trump was less than a week in office when he was loaded onto a charter plane for deportation, Hassan’s wife said he still blamed Trump. Hassan was convinced he was deported because of this president who campaigned with a promise he would ban virtually all Muslims from entering the United States.Hassan’s wife saw him for the last time at 8:00 on the morning of Thursday, March 28. They talked three times that day, she recalled. Their house was undergoing some renovations, so they’d gone back and forth about that over the course of the day. Then Hassan’s cousin called her around evening prayers to say he’d been in the attack, and she rushed to the hospital. He’d already died in the ambulance. He had wounds from shrapnel in his side and in his head, she recalled. Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed, now a widow, has heard about Trump telling Ihhan Omar to go back to Somalia, and she said that his willingness to level such language at a sitting official shows how much he hates refugees, Muslims and black people in general. Still, she told us if she could say anything directly to Trump, she would tell him, “We are helpless, me and my daughter.” She would want Trump to give them a new life in the United States.“I don’t think he will hear me,” she said. Read more at The Daily Beast.Get our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://ift.tt/31wrjpF

[courtneytincher]

Deported to Death: What It Means to ‘Go Back’ to Somalia

GettyMOGADISHU, Somalia—Ahmed Salah Hassan walked across Africa and Latin America to get to the United States. He traversed nearly 20 national borders, hiked the Darién Gap—a 60-mile patch of untamable jungle and swamp—and braved the checks at the U.S. southern border. But Hassan, looking for freedom and safety, never found it in the United States. When he finally, legally, crossed into Brownsville, Texas, in the spring of 2015, he was detained immediately. That set off a two-year odyssey through immigration detention centers—first at the LaSalle ICE Processing Center in Louisiana, then at Etowah County Detention Center in Gadsden, Alabama, before he was deported back to Somalia, the country he’d fled nearly a decade earlier.Hassan’s story started well before Donald Trump claimed that Somali-born U.S. Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN) and other women of color in Congress should “go back” to the countries they came from. But that is what Hassan was forced to do.His time in America ended in late January 2017, less than a week after Trump’s inauguration, when he was put on a chartered flight full of deportees to Somalia. And in March of this year, Hassan died in a restaurant bombing in the Somali capital Mogadishu, killed in the sort of violence from which he’d fled in the first place. * * *The Paper Trail* * *The Daily Beast obtained Hassan’s temporary travel document issued by the Embassy of Somalia in Washington, D.C. It says he was 29 years old when he was deported. Hassan’s death certificate, issued by the Somali Sudanese Specialized Hospital, says he was 30 when he was killed. It also says he died on his way to the hospital. He was married to a woman named Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed. His daughter, Amran Ahmed Saalah, is 6 years old. Friends and family said Hassan believed there could be no life for him in Somalia, and he was right. But he was wrong about another country: There could be no life for him in the United States, either. “My country is burning, he would say,” recalls a friend and co-worker who knew Hassan in South Africa, before he decided to keep moving to the States.The policies that left Hassan imprisoned for two years, denied asylum and detained under the Obama administration, and finally deported, have accelerated at lightning speed since Trump took office. Today, more people are being held and then returned to deadly environments from which they fled than ever before, and the administration is making moves to deny asylum claims almost entirely. “I think there are numerous variables that contribute to an individual being unable to prevail with an asylum claim,” says Priscilla Olivarez, a managing attorney for immigration legal service provider American Gateways. “However, we have seen changes in policy and practice under the current administration that have made it significantly more difficult for asylum seekers (including Somalis) to win their asylum claim.”  In an interview with The Daily Beast, Hassan’s wife, Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed, said she thought that sending someone back to Somalia was like sentencing them to death. There is little doubt, certainly, that Somalia is a dangerous place to live.On Thursday the mayor of Mogadishu died from wounds received when a suicide bomber walked into his compound on July 24 in the midst of a high-level meeting, detonating bombs that killed 11 people in all. Two days before that, a car bomb killed at least 17 people at a busy checkpoint in the city. Ten days before that, 26 people were killed, and approximately 50 injured, in the southern port city of Kismayo after a complex attack on a popular hotel. Al Shabaab, the Islamist group that has pledged allegiance to al Qaeda, has claimed responsibility for all of these attacks. * * *State of Denials* * *Five days after Trump was inaugurated, he issued mandates related to immigration. One called “Border Security and Immigration Enforcement Improvements” would have the most impact on people like Hassan because it almost entirely ended the opportunity for migrants to leave detention after they arrived in the U.S. Experts and activists say this change sentenced most asylum seekers to deportation before they even went before a judge. “Asylum seekers who are denied parole and remain in detention have a much harder time finding attorneys, which asylum seekers are not guaranteed or given for free, but are crucial to winning an asylum case,” Yael Schacher, a senior advocate at Refugees International, told The Daily Beast. Before the order, migrants and asylum seekers who came to the border as "arriving aliens" would always be locked up, but would be eligible for a parole hearing that would allow them to be released (sometimes on bond) as their case proceeded. The new order said, "The Secretary shall immediately take all appropriate action to ensure that the parole and asylum provisions of Federal immigration law are not illegally exploited to prevent the removal of otherwise removable aliens.”  What that meant in practice was revealed in a memo from then-Chief of Staff John Kelly issued to the Department of Homeland Security less than a month later. “The President has determined,” he said, that “the lawful detention of aliens” deemed unfit for parole was the most sensible way  to “enforce immigration laws at our borders.” Essentially, anyone who was not paroled would be detained for the duration of the court proceedings. Parole, the memo said, should be used "sparingly.”  With these new rules, those seeking freedom via parole would need to make much stronger cases for release, furthering their chances of staying locked up even if they met parole criteria, researchers and activists contend.Since Kelly’s mandate was issued the number of people detained by ICE continues to break records. In March, The Daily Beast reported over 50,000 people were detained, an apparent all-time high. The number hasn’t gone down; as of today ICE has the current population at 52,100. Here’s How Some Africans Joined the Migrant Caravan Heading for the U.S.ICE presents reasons for denying parole as a checklist. According to documents shared with The Daily Beast, Hassan was denied parole because, as per the checklist, any documentation he submitted to prove his identity was deemed insufficient and he couldn’t prove that he was not a flight risk.  On May 30, the Southern Poverty Law Center and the ACLU filed a joint suit against the Trump administration claiming it is “categorically denying release” to detained immigrants. * * *The ICE Odyssey* * *After a short detention in Texas, Hassan was held in La Salle Detention Center in the middle of Louisiana, then after his asylum claim was denied he was moved to Etowah County Detention Center in Gadsden in northeast Alabama, according to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services.  He was in each facility for about 300 days, according to ICE.  Hassan’s wife, Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed,  said they spoke “many times” while he was in detention in the States and she in Somalia. Asked if he seemed stressed, she said, “He didn’t want to share his emotions with me, he was hiding [them].” In Gadsden, Alabama, Hassan ran into his friend Qeys Bare, a fellow Somali. Hassan and Qeys had worked together in the same mall in South Africa, before xenophobic violence there motivated them to try their luck in the States. Qeys doesn’t describe Etowah Country as a holding cell, he describes it as a “jail.”Indeed, Etowah is part-detention center, part-prison, with about 350 beds for people detained by ICE and about 500 for people in jail, says Resha Swanson, the policy and communications coordinator for Adelante Alabama Worker Center, an organization does two to four visits a month to Etowah. Swanson says inmates told her that they sometimes received a half a tomato and a slice of bread for a meal, and that there aren’t enough refrigerators so food often spoils.  “Etowah is where people are sent to be broken and to sign their deportation papers as quickly as possible,” Swanson told The Daily Beast.* * *Lawyering Down* * *As Europe slams its gates to newcomers via new policies to stop people from leaving Libya, record numbers of African refugees, migrants and asylum seekers have been attempting to come to the United States instead. According to Mexican authorities, from January to July in 2016 almost 8,000 people from Africa and Asia presented themselves at Mexican immigration checkpoints, compared to 4,261 in all of 2015 and 1,831 in 2014. A Reuters report last month with data from Mexico’s interior ministry suggests that migration from Africa this year will break records.Libya’s Migrant ‘Holding Areas’ Have Become Death CampsBesides the shift making indefinite detention extremely probable, it is now also becoming more likely that once the case is processed, the asylum claim will be denied.“It has always been very difficult to win an asylum claim,” says Carl Bon Tempo, a professor of history at the State University of New York-Albany and author of Americans at the Gate: The United States and Refugees During the Cold War. “Asylum is a very hard legal status to achieve.” To win an asylum case an applicant has to put together extensive documentation, which is often difficult to marshal when fleeing a war zone and usually requires the assistance of an immigration lawyer, who may be expensive and hard to access when one is detained. “It is especially hard for asylum seekers to find pro bono or low cost attorneys if they are transferred to detention facilities in remote areas,” says Schacher of Refugees International.  “These transfers also take them to jurisdictions of immigration judges with low asylum grant rates. Prolonged detention is isolating, traumatic and demoralizing—the food and medical care are poor, there is no education and little recreation, making phone calls is expensive. African asylum seekers have also faced discrimination and worse conditions than others. Under these circumstances, many would ‘choose’ to give up their claims.” * * *Un-Appealing* * *Hassan did not have an immigration lawyer. His case for asylum was denied in Oakdale Immigration Court in Louisiana in August 2016. The presiding judge, Agnelis Reese, has rejected every single asylum claim that has crossed her desk—over 200 hearings in five years. Hassan did not appeal the decision but Hassan’s wife, Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed, said he was surprised by the outcome: who would send someone back to Somalia? We will never know exactly why Hassan did not appeal his decision. Qeys expects that Hassan’s reasons were much the same as his. “I didn’t take the appeal,” he said in a WhatsApp message, “because I was tired in prison. I wanted to be free somewhere.” But Hassan’s wife said he didn’t feel that way. Hassan was upset to leave detention. He would rather have stayed there than come back to Somalia. Key members of the Trump administration including Stephen Miller and former Attorney General Jeff Sessions have re-ignited a long-standing argument that says many people fleeing their homes are not legitimate victims of persecution, they are economic migrants looking to optimize their situation. Sessions has long said asylum seekers are “gaming” the system.“The credible fear process was intended to be a lifeline for persons facing serious persecution. But it has become an easy ticket to illegal entry into the United States,” Sessions said in his comments to the Executive Office for Immigration Review in October, 2017, a few months after Hassan was deported.  “This argument has been going on since the 1930s,” Bon Tempo said. “You saw it in opposition to European refugees,” when many Jews were turned away from American shores. “You have people saying they're not victims of Nazi persecution, they're people trying to get out and have a better life.” As with detentions, asylum denials hit a record high under Trump, with 65 percent denied last year according to Syracuse University's Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC).This increase could be due to a backlog of cases of people that have been sitting in detention that are now getting more quickly processed because quotas have been raised for immigration judges. More than 42,000 asylum cases were decided in the fiscal year ending September 30, 2018, the most since TRAC began compiling this data in 2001.Denials climbed after former Attorney General Sessions announced women fleeing gang and domestic violence would not be granted asylum. Like detention and denials, physical deportations back to war zones have peaked under Trump, with Somalis being one of the most targeted groups. There has been a greater than 135 percent increase in the number of Somalis deported under Trump compared to the Obama administration (750 in FY 2017/2018 compared to 318 in FY 2015/2016) according to statistics from the Department of Homeland Security show. * * *Un-Safe at Home* * *Back in Somalia, Hassan looked for work, but the country’s unemployment rate is among the highest in the world—67 percent for people under 30, according to the United Nations—and he couldn’t find anything. His wife says he especially wanted to work for a travel agency.  Even though the decision to deny Hassan asylum was made under the Obama administration, and Trump was less than a week in office when he was loaded onto a charter plane for deportation, Hassan’s wife said he still blamed Trump. Hassan was convinced he was deported because of this president who campaigned with a promise he would ban virtually all Muslims from entering the United States.Hassan’s wife saw him for the last time at 8:00 on the morning of Thursday, March 28. They talked three times that day, she recalled. Their house was undergoing some renovations, so they’d gone back and forth about that over the course of the day. Then Hassan’s cousin called her around evening prayers to say he’d been in the attack, and she rushed to the hospital. He’d already died in the ambulance. He had wounds from shrapnel in his side and in his head, she recalled. Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed, now a widow, has heard about Trump telling Ihhan Omar to go back to Somalia, and she said that his willingness to level such language at a sitting official shows how much he hates refugees, Muslims and black people in general. Still, she told us if she could say anything directly to Trump, she would tell him, “We are helpless, me and my daughter.” She would want Trump to give them a new life in the United States.“I don’t think he will hear me,” she said. Read more at The Daily Beast.Get our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.

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GettyMOGADISHU, Somalia—Ahmed Salah Hassan walked across Africa and Latin America to get to the United States. He traversed nearly 20 national borders, hiked the Darién Gap—a 60-mile patch of untamable jungle and swamp—and braved the checks at the U.S. southern border. But Hassan, looking for freedom and safety, never found it in the United States. When he finally, legally, crossed into Brownsville, Texas, in the spring of 2015, he was detained immediately. That set off a two-year odyssey through immigration detention centers—first at the LaSalle ICE Processing Center in Louisiana, then at Etowah County Detention Center in Gadsden, Alabama, before he was deported back to Somalia, the country he’d fled nearly a decade earlier.Hassan’s story started well before Donald Trump claimed that Somali-born U.S. Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN) and other women of color in Congress should “go back” to the countries they came from. But that is what Hassan was forced to do.His time in America ended in late January 2017, less than a week after Trump’s inauguration, when he was put on a chartered flight full of deportees to Somalia. And in March of this year, Hassan died in a restaurant bombing in the Somali capital Mogadishu, killed in the sort of violence from which he’d fled in the first place. * * *The Paper Trail* * *The Daily Beast obtained Hassan’s temporary travel document issued by the Embassy of Somalia in Washington, D.C. It says he was 29 years old when he was deported. Hassan’s death certificate, issued by the Somali Sudanese Specialized Hospital, says he was 30 when he was killed. It also says he died on his way to the hospital. He was married to a woman named Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed. His daughter, Amran Ahmed Saalah, is 6 years old. Friends and family said Hassan believed there could be no life for him in Somalia, and he was right. But he was wrong about another country: There could be no life for him in the United States, either. “My country is burning, he would say,” recalls a friend and co-worker who knew Hassan in South Africa, before he decided to keep moving to the States.The policies that left Hassan imprisoned for two years, denied asylum and detained under the Obama administration, and finally deported, have accelerated at lightning speed since Trump took office. Today, more people are being held and then returned to deadly environments from which they fled than ever before, and the administration is making moves to deny asylum claims almost entirely. “I think there are numerous variables that contribute to an individual being unable to prevail with an asylum claim,” says Priscilla Olivarez, a managing attorney for immigration legal service provider American Gateways. “However, we have seen changes in policy and practice under the current administration that have made it significantly more difficult for asylum seekers (including Somalis) to win their asylum claim.”  In an interview with The Daily Beast, Hassan’s wife, Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed, said she thought that sending someone back to Somalia was like sentencing them to death. There is little doubt, certainly, that Somalia is a dangerous place to live.On Thursday the mayor of Mogadishu died from wounds received when a suicide bomber walked into his compound on July 24 in the midst of a high-level meeting, detonating bombs that killed 11 people in all. Two days before that, a car bomb killed at least 17 people at a busy checkpoint in the city. Ten days before that, 26 people were killed, and approximately 50 injured, in the southern port city of Kismayo after a complex attack on a popular hotel. Al Shabaab, the Islamist group that has pledged allegiance to al Qaeda, has claimed responsibility for all of these attacks. * * *State of Denials* * *Five days after Trump was inaugurated, he issued mandates related to immigration. One called “Border Security and Immigration Enforcement Improvements” would have the most impact on people like Hassan because it almost entirely ended the opportunity for migrants to leave detention after they arrived in the U.S. Experts and activists say this change sentenced most asylum seekers to deportation before they even went before a judge. “Asylum seekers who are denied parole and remain in detention have a much harder time finding attorneys, which asylum seekers are not guaranteed or given for free, but are crucial to winning an asylum case,” Yael Schacher, a senior advocate at Refugees International, told The Daily Beast. Before the order, migrants and asylum seekers who came to the border as "arriving aliens" would always be locked up, but would be eligible for a parole hearing that would allow them to be released (sometimes on bond) as their case proceeded. The new order said, "The Secretary shall immediately take all appropriate action to ensure that the parole and asylum provisions of Federal immigration law are not illegally exploited to prevent the removal of otherwise removable aliens.”  What that meant in practice was revealed in a memo from then-Chief of Staff John Kelly issued to the Department of Homeland Security less than a month later. “The President has determined,” he said, that “the lawful detention of aliens” deemed unfit for parole was the most sensible way  to “enforce immigration laws at our borders.” Essentially, anyone who was not paroled would be detained for the duration of the court proceedings. Parole, the memo said, should be used "sparingly.”  With these new rules, those seeking freedom via parole would need to make much stronger cases for release, furthering their chances of staying locked up even if they met parole criteria, researchers and activists contend.Since Kelly’s mandate was issued the number of people detained by ICE continues to break records. In March, The Daily Beast reported over 50,000 people were detained, an apparent all-time high. The number hasn’t gone down; as of today ICE has the current population at 52,100. Here’s How Some Africans Joined the Migrant Caravan Heading for the U.S.ICE presents reasons for denying parole as a checklist. According to documents shared with The Daily Beast, Hassan was denied parole because, as per the checklist, any documentation he submitted to prove his identity was deemed insufficient and he couldn’t prove that he was not a flight risk.  On May 30, the Southern Poverty Law Center and the ACLU filed a joint suit against the Trump administration claiming it is “categorically denying release” to detained immigrants. * * *The ICE Odyssey* * *After a short detention in Texas, Hassan was held in La Salle Detention Center in the middle of Louisiana, then after his asylum claim was denied he was moved to Etowah County Detention Center in Gadsden in northeast Alabama, according to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services.  He was in each facility for about 300 days, according to ICE.  Hassan’s wife, Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed,  said they spoke “many times” while he was in detention in the States and she in Somalia. Asked if he seemed stressed, she said, “He didn’t want to share his emotions with me, he was hiding [them].” In Gadsden, Alabama, Hassan ran into his friend Qeys Bare, a fellow Somali. Hassan and Qeys had worked together in the same mall in South Africa, before xenophobic violence there motivated them to try their luck in the States. Qeys doesn’t describe Etowah Country as a holding cell, he describes it as a “jail.”Indeed, Etowah is part-detention center, part-prison, with about 350 beds for people detained by ICE and about 500 for people in jail, says Resha Swanson, the policy and communications coordinator for Adelante Alabama Worker Center, an organization does two to four visits a month to Etowah. Swanson says inmates told her that they sometimes received a half a tomato and a slice of bread for a meal, and that there aren’t enough refrigerators so food often spoils.  “Etowah is where people are sent to be broken and to sign their deportation papers as quickly as possible,” Swanson told The Daily Beast.* * *Lawyering Down* * *As Europe slams its gates to newcomers via new policies to stop people from leaving Libya, record numbers of African refugees, migrants and asylum seekers have been attempting to come to the United States instead. According to Mexican authorities, from January to July in 2016 almost 8,000 people from Africa and Asia presented themselves at Mexican immigration checkpoints, compared to 4,261 in all of 2015 and 1,831 in 2014. A Reuters report last month with data from Mexico’s interior ministry suggests that migration from Africa this year will break records.Libya’s Migrant ‘Holding Areas’ Have Become Death CampsBesides the shift making indefinite detention extremely probable, it is now also becoming more likely that once the case is processed, the asylum claim will be denied.“It has always been very difficult to win an asylum claim,” says Carl Bon Tempo, a professor of history at the State University of New York-Albany and author of Americans at the Gate: The United States and Refugees During the Cold War. “Asylum is a very hard legal status to achieve.” To win an asylum case an applicant has to put together extensive documentation, which is often difficult to marshal when fleeing a war zone and usually requires the assistance of an immigration lawyer, who may be expensive and hard to access when one is detained. “It is especially hard for asylum seekers to find pro bono or low cost attorneys if they are transferred to detention facilities in remote areas,” says Schacher of Refugees International.  “These transfers also take them to jurisdictions of immigration judges with low asylum grant rates. Prolonged detention is isolating, traumatic and demoralizing—the food and medical care are poor, there is no education and little recreation, making phone calls is expensive. African asylum seekers have also faced discrimination and worse conditions than others. Under these circumstances, many would ‘choose’ to give up their claims.” * * *Un-Appealing* * *Hassan did not have an immigration lawyer. His case for asylum was denied in Oakdale Immigration Court in Louisiana in August 2016. The presiding judge, Agnelis Reese, has rejected every single asylum claim that has crossed her desk—over 200 hearings in five years. Hassan did not appeal the decision but Hassan’s wife, Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed, said he was surprised by the outcome: who would send someone back to Somalia? We will never know exactly why Hassan did not appeal his decision. Qeys expects that Hassan’s reasons were much the same as his. “I didn’t take the appeal,” he said in a WhatsApp message, “because I was tired in prison. I wanted to be free somewhere.” But Hassan’s wife said he didn’t feel that way. Hassan was upset to leave detention. He would rather have stayed there than come back to Somalia. Key members of the Trump administration including Stephen Miller and former Attorney General Jeff Sessions have re-ignited a long-standing argument that says many people fleeing their homes are not legitimate victims of persecution, they are economic migrants looking to optimize their situation. Sessions has long said asylum seekers are “gaming” the system.“The credible fear process was intended to be a lifeline for persons facing serious persecution. But it has become an easy ticket to illegal entry into the United States,” Sessions said in his comments to the Executive Office for Immigration Review in October, 2017, a few months after Hassan was deported.  “This argument has been going on since the 1930s,” Bon Tempo said. “You saw it in opposition to European refugees,” when many Jews were turned away from American shores. “You have people saying they're not victims of Nazi persecution, they're people trying to get out and have a better life.” As with detentions, asylum denials hit a record high under Trump, with 65 percent denied last year according to Syracuse University's Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC).This increase could be due to a backlog of cases of people that have been sitting in detention that are now getting more quickly processed because quotas have been raised for immigration judges. More than 42,000 asylum cases were decided in the fiscal year ending September 30, 2018, the most since TRAC began compiling this data in 2001.Denials climbed after former Attorney General Sessions announced women fleeing gang and domestic violence would not be granted asylum. Like detention and denials, physical deportations back to war zones have peaked under Trump, with Somalis being one of the most targeted groups. There has been a greater than 135 percent increase in the number of Somalis deported under Trump compared to the Obama administration (750 in FY 2017/2018 compared to 318 in FY 2015/2016) according to statistics from the Department of Homeland Security show. * * *Un-Safe at Home* * *Back in Somalia, Hassan looked for work, but the country’s unemployment rate is among the highest in the world—67 percent for people under 30, according to the United Nations—and he couldn’t find anything. His wife says he especially wanted to work for a travel agency.  Even though the decision to deny Hassan asylum was made under the Obama administration, and Trump was less than a week in office when he was loaded onto a charter plane for deportation, Hassan’s wife said he still blamed Trump. Hassan was convinced he was deported because of this president who campaigned with a promise he would ban virtually all Muslims from entering the United States.Hassan’s wife saw him for the last time at 8:00 on the morning of Thursday, March 28. They talked three times that day, she recalled. Their house was undergoing some renovations, so they’d gone back and forth about that over the course of the day. Then Hassan’s cousin called her around evening prayers to say he’d been in the attack, and she rushed to the hospital. He’d already died in the ambulance. He had wounds from shrapnel in his side and in his head, she recalled. Kaafiya Ibrahim Mohamed, now a widow, has heard about Trump telling Ihhan Omar to go back to Somalia, and she said that his willingness to level such language at a sitting official shows how much he hates refugees, Muslims and black people in general. Still, she told us if she could say anything directly to Trump, she would tell him, “We are helpless, me and my daughter.” She would want Trump to give them a new life in the United States.“I don’t think he will hear me,” she said. Read more at The Daily Beast.Get our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.

August 09, 2019 at 09:42AM via IFTTT