ダンボの旅: One of these is not like the other....

It's weird how things like this always seem to happen. All my life I've always felt a bit out of place, I'm an adopted Black/Filipino, Engineer/Arts.... you get the idea. So all my life I've been used to the feeling of never fitting in. You'd think by now I'd have gotten used to it, but it's still a feeling that I haven't fully gotten over yet and yesterday's flight brought that feeling back in full force.

While most people have what seems like awful experiences for long-range flights mine was awesome! In all respects, except in that it allowed my mind to wander and think for 13+ hrs. Somehow I had the luck of sitting in the second row of Economy Comfort on the window row in the middle seat. Despite originally being worried about this positioning it proved to be a non-issue. To my right was a very kind and reserved Japanese lady of about mid 50's on here way back home, and to my left was a smiling and kind Filipino lady in her early 40's flying back home to the Philippines. As I was saying though, my spot worked out perfect. The lady to my right was gone most of the trip walking around and talking to friends. Meanwhile the lady to my left was watching movies much like myself, and taking walking/bathroom breaks at same time. Definitely nice, never had to get up anytime I wasn't already up.

Anyways, now for the meaning behind the title. Like I said, really the worst part about the flight my wandering mind. Here I was, right in the middle of two people I should know and be able to communicate with. To the left, a kind example of the people that I'll be living, working, partying and eating with for the next 13th months. And to the right, someone that's supposed to be of my own blood, heritage and history. Yet I know nothing about her/"my" people. Years ago I had met a Filipino man and he instantly saw that I too appeared to be Filipino and greeted me in the native tongue. Of course I had no idea what he had said, his next words were ones that have stuck with me to this day, "You now are only American, with no language or  history your blood has run cold". The thing was, he was right. How can you say you're something when you can't even great your own people in your own language. So there I was, on a 747 somewhere over the vast ocean laughing to myself. I'm finally somewhere where I should blend in and fit in, yet like always I still was just a shell that looked like it belonged.