First Day

So, I was stuck in a layover at an airport in Cleveland, Ohio which the Drew Carey show has made famous with their theme song "Cleveland Rocks". Large guitars with Aerosmith among others is prominently displayed as I walk down the walkavator, or whatever you call those things that push you past those slow pokes who actually use their muscles. I tried to access wireless net at my gate, but to no avail. I guess I don't have enough Irish in me, because my free internet luck had run out. So, there goes my cool idea of writing things in real time. Who really does that anyway?
While I was waiting I met a young girl with trendy clothes holding a very large thin piece of luggage. I pointed out the obvious, when i asked her if she was an artist. She showed me a Polaroid of her baby sister that she used for one of her works. I swear it was difficult to tell the difference between the colored pencils and the glossy photo. I told her about how I used to draw and paint, but would get frustrated because it never looked as good as I saw it. She gave me advice, and told me that perhaps I need to have more patience. Instantly, she produced a cell phone and showed me something really cool. It was called "path of Apollos" and it had a stony path lined with long patches of grass, with a distinctly Greek feel to it. She went on to tell me how she won gold for that particular work, and that only something like 4000 people in the entire U.S. can recieve such a rare prize.
Noticing the long black growth of a guitar case on my thigh, she asked if I was a musician, and whether I liked acoustic, or electric guitar better. I told her about how I was going to help my brother with worship (among other things) for the next 3-4 months in Ottawa, Canada. It's funny how saying anything even remotely religious can end a good conversation, and that's exactly what happened here.
As I was riding in the plane, my two favorite parts were lifting off, and landing. You have to cut through the clouds both times. There's nothing more thrilling to me than see an entire minute of white catch my breath, and cause the plane to jolt a bit. It's alot of fun.
I arrived on time at airport in Syracuse, NY., and suddenly realized how much easier my life would be if I didn't have to bring so much junk. I tried to call my brother a few times, but I couldn't figure out how to dial his cell. After several minutes of resting, doing a giant circle to stretch my legs, I decided to head back to the phone for one last call. Finally, I reached my brother and he was literally outside the terminal.
My brother brought his two daughter and greeted me warmly. I was hungry, and also blissfully unaware that there was a bigger reason for my brother to pick me up in Syracuse. For those who know of the joys of Moe's Southwest Grill, you will understand when a man has not had a burrito like that in 6 months.
After lunch we all climbed in the car, adjusted our seat belts, put on a vegetable dvd of choice, and started down the road. A few times we had to stop because the natives were getting restless and had some energy to burn.
My brother gave me the skinny on schedules, people, and what's going on. I tried to do the same about family, friends, and college, trying to match his precision at catching up. After a long period we arrived at the border. My understanding of what it must be like to be an immigrant has greatly expanded. Canadians are not as intimadating as some countries (Cough America), but still it's nerve wracking to realize that a government employee has the power to admit, or dismiss you for any reason. I had to go by myself, answer a few questions about the nature of my visit, and what I would be doing. I told her that I would be a part of religious work, leading bible studies, playing musical worship, etc. She tells me to have a seat, as she looks over my legal documents, and church letters of recommendation. As I wait, my brother and the girls come by and sit next to me. Eventually, I get called and recieve a four month visitors pass. It was cool to know that I was in, but I was really hoping I'd get the religious visa. Oh, well. Now, i take my new document and hand it into another Canadian clerk who looks it over, types something into a computer (bring milk home...who knows?), stamps my paper and says "Welcome to Canada."
A short drive showed me an entirely different world. One with large green hills, cottages on little islands, and gorgeous blue skies. Tour guide to the stars, my brother tells me everything I wanted to know and even what i didn't as we drive into Ottawa.
We arrive at my brothers house, a little town house that is very friendly. My sister in law, who has a third child belly gives me a hug, as I walk into the house. Yes, if there's spaghetti and red sauce, it's a good day. After dinner, I insisted on doing the dishes, though i was very tired. In hindsight, it would've been much better to go to bed, and learn where everything was later.
So in summary, two planes, three people, three documents, one new nation, two times at Moes, and spaghetti. A really good day.