Honestly, the best part of being an MK is the trip home. Woah, that sounds negative and stuff. I don’t mean leaving the third-world hellish existence your parents thought would be nice to try for 4 years. No, that part is hard. ‘Cause if you were lucky you made friends and things.
The Summer before my senior year, James hatched a plan to hike the Inca Trail with his brother Jeremy and they invited me along. It had been done before. Some of the grades at school had traversed it for their camps on previous years. The whole region was littered with white kids’ bodies.
Just like driving on the wrong side of the road and consuming 19 boatloads of Twinkies per capita per annum, Americans once again threw caution to the wind, stood in defiance of the rest of the civilized world… and decided to misplace their summer break and stick it in July. The prevailing theory is that it had something to do with catfish hunting.
I was maybe halfway through my high school years in Bolivia when the most extraordinary thing happened: The heavens opened and George Lucas revealed he was re-releasing the StarWars trilogy with updated special effects not involving potatoes and hopefully less incest, for the 20th Anniversary of the original film’s release. The world went nuts.