Endings without beginnings

When life decides to deal a blow, sometimes it delivers one that is so devastating that you stop functioning for a bit. You avoid things, people, work, whatever. And even though you know you can pick back up the pieces, that you can move on...your numbness keeps you from doing so. But sometimes you need the time to accept what has happened, to lick your wounds and recover before you can emerge out of your self-imposed exile of the mind. Thus why I abandoned this blog for a bit, despite my promises of writing once a week. Despite the small kinds of joy I found in writing it.

You see, in the beginning of July I had written to a former project leader of mine, asking for the final informe (report) from the project I worked on in 2011. I needed the data contained in that report to finish writing my proposal for INAH to get the permissions to carry out my own planned dissertation project. This project was to start sometime in September--in fact, this very week. A week later, I received the blow that life was to deal me.

The former project leader emailed me to tell me that he thought my project was unworkable, and that he was not willing to commit his time nor the project's time and resources to something he did not support. I remember reading the email and going numb, standing up, leaving my chair (I was out at a coffee shop in Oaxaca, getting ready for a day of work) and taking a deep breath. Trying not to lose my shit....well no, not close to that. I wasn't about to do that. But I did feel like the rug had been pulled out from under me--that I was facing a gaping crevice and I wasn't sure how I was going to get across now, and the only feeling is a sinking in my stomach as I faced the abyss.

What was there next to do? There was contacting my adviser, there was choking back the tears, there was playing my favorite computer strategy game, there was doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. For a week or a day. For a month. Oh there were things I still managed to get done, academic and business related. I am never a total slack-off even at my lowest moments. But there were many hours of being selfish, of mindless entertainment. Of numbing and being numb as I wrestled with the next thing to do. The next step. I know I'm being overly dramatic. But the thing was is that I was so close. Grants had been applied for, equipment purchased. So much time spent and so much thought invested, this project had become me. And I was so excited about it. And then I had to put it away. At my lowest I wanted to put it all away, just drop this futile pursuit for a PhD and settle with the letters already at the end of my name.

Two months later I'm picking up the pieces again. I am moving forward. There is nothing really to do except that. Hopefully things are going to look up again, and I'll find a PhD project soon. Until that time I am going to keep plugging away at the little things that are within my control, the things I can do. And I'll keep writing, writing articles and chapters, writing emails, and writing on this blog. Maybe the writing will help me to find the next path or fork in this life I call mine. One can always hope.

 

La Gatita en Paraíso (The Kitten in Paradise)

Hola a todos!

Last week was my birthday, so I took a week off from blogging. To make up for it I will be posting twice this week.

Anyway, I thought I'd take this time to share a little about an amazing creature that lives with me in Oaxaca. Her name is Gizmo, and she is my adorable 6 year-old tabby cat. She is also a very special and amazing little kitty. I know a lot of owners say the same thing about their respective pets, but I think I can make the convincing argument that in my case, at least, its very true. Let me share a little bit of of Gizmo's story with you.

I first met Gizmo in October of 2006, when in Uncle Hardy's Fun Shop I spotted a flyer advertising "Free Kittens", the only requirement being that they go to a home that won't declaw them. I remember saying "Oh free kittens!" and the lanky guy behind the counter unfolded his long body and sprang to his feet--"I'm the one with the free kittens...". And we went from there.

Oh my! What big eyes you have!

As it turned out, by the time I called only one kitten was left, but he described her to me as very beautiful kitty with a sweet character and assured me that I would love her. I went by his home (which was actually not far from parent's house) to pick up my little two month-old kitten. And that's when I met the cutest thing ever--a sweet little tiny tabby with big eyes. I picked her up and held her in my arms, and the Uncle Hardy's guy remarked "I have never seen her stay in someone's arms for so long!". From that moment I knew that she and I would have a special bond.

Little Gizmo peeking through the window.

To give a little more of an idea of the specialness of Gizmo--she has moved about 8 times in her short life. Now, the conventional wisdom is that cats are more attached to places than people. When you move a cat, there are a series of steps you take to ensure that your cat doesn't flip out and try to run back "home". But every time Gizmo has moved, she has been a trooper.

Her first move came in Chicago, when I relocated from one apartment to another. Next, after a 3-month absence and about 4 weeks of being extremely angry with me for leaving her behind in Chicago while I galavanted (sp?) about Oaxaca, she came with me on an air flight to Tucson, Arizona, where I was going to start graduate school. She settled in quite nicely and became a queen of the desert, though a slightly less campy version than Priscilla, and lived among lizards and coyotes for almost 3 years.

Her biggest adventure came next, when she was plucked from her home and placed into a kennel, until 5 days later when a friend of mine could rescue her. She stayed with him for about two weeks before being woken up one morning, snatched from a pile of blankets and sweaters, stuffed into a cage, taken to a vet where she got poked and prodded and injected, then back into the cage where she endured a 2 hour road trip to Phoenix, and then not one, not two, but three THREE flights from there to Oaxaca (PHX --> Hermosillo --> DF --> Oaxaca). Somehow she made it through being stuck in the underbelly of a dark tube just fine, and without being extremely mad at me.

However, landing in Oaxaca didn't mean the end of her moving around. I stayed in a small 1-bedroom place when I first arrived, then when Chuck came down we moved to another apartment, Gizmo in tow. Finally, once our casita opened up again, we packed her up one final (hopefully) time and brought her there. And she seems to have settled in just peachy, and in fact I suspect she is even enjoying herself. She's already brought down one bird and took out a mouse, at least that we know of, and she spends her days napping at her leisure and her nights terrorizing the neighborhood birds.

Gizmo in her favorite hiding spot in our old apartment now office.

And through all the constant moving and having to readjust to new environments, Gizmo has remained a happy, cuddly little kitten. She'll often jump into bed, snuggling with me and curling up into the crook of my arm. She's as vocal and sing-songy as ever, and she still does things that make your heart break from all the cuteness.

So this was my long ode to my lovely Gizmo. She's a sweetheart and a true trooper, and I hope she sticks around for a long time.

Stay tuned for the next post tomorrow!

Resurrection....again!

Welcome back for not the first, certainly not the second...but yes! The THIRD coming of this blog. The Randomness of Atom is back, at least for the summer. But summer romances are some of the best, non?

In all honesty I hadn't thought much about the blog in a while. I wasn't even sure I would do it again, but a fleeting urge to do so did flit through my mind. However when I had received an email from Grandpa asking if I was going to be doing the blog again this summer I thought to myself, why not? Well more like I thought that yes, I should do the blog again. Because not only is it fun but also its a great way for people to keep up with my adventures.

Plus, this summer things are quite different. Last summer, though I had a good time overall, was much more difficult than my 2008 field season. Problems with getting into the field and onto the projects I had expected to join but was prevented from doing so, problems with the la migra ($100 down the drain my friends!), and of course heart-aches and breakups. Last summer was a test of how well I can deal with life giving me some fairly sour lemons, but I did make the finest limonada that I could.

This summer is going to be way more tranquilo. I'm not doing any archaeology--well I just did a week in Trincheras analyzing cremations--but instead will be focusing on my ethnography of pelota mixteca players and their community networks. Given that games are only played once a week--albeit in different communidades throughout the state--there will be a lot of downtime, which I plan to use for prepping for comps (er that is my PhD comprehensive exams), getting my reading lists together for that, writing articles, and just doing research en general.

And of course....relaxation! A visit to Mexico City, a visit maybe to Guatemala. Travel travel travel. And a return to myself. Yes. Its going to be a good summer. Now if only I can find a place to stay :)...

Er...yeah, so its been a while...

I've probably used that title before, but alas, it captures perfectly the situation. Hmm, so the last time I posted, it was a recipe that I had made up on the fly--a great (and cheap) Indian dish. And in that post I had made a promise to provide an update on what's been going on in my life. Of course, such a thing didn't happen. Call it a combination of being swamped by the demands of graduate school and an avoidance of posting, for whatever strange reasons. Laziness perhaps? Reluctance? Who knows, who cares? I think, however, that now that I am adjusted to my life in Tucson, now that I have friends and such, and also since this upcoming semester should be somewhat easier, I will have more time (and inclination) for posting.

So, what has been happening? Well...since those few posts that I made in September, things have actually been going swimmingly. I submitted an abstract to the SAAs, spoke with the newest bioarchaeologist hire at the ASM (Arizona State Museum) about some fieldwork opportunities, and made connections with the archaeology community at large. By the end of October, I felt pretty solid--no more homesickness (well, I still miss home but still...) and I was building a good group of friends. Halloween was a blast, and good things kept going from there.

In November, I went home briefly--it was like a dream. Four days, and then it was over, and I was back in town. But it was wonderful, and I managed to squeeze in time with a lot of people. The Friday I came back, I had a wonderful dinner with my friends Fumie and Natalia--a home-made sushi dinner that was so incredible I could never have anything close to that again. The next day, went out with other friends for sushi--yes, again, but that wasn't my plan--and then to Natalia's house, with Fumie, for a party. That was an awesome weekend.

Then, the following week on Friday I left for a 9-day (well, 11 if you count the days of travel) field season at the site of La Playa, near Trincerhas, Sonora, Mexico. It was an awesome site/trip...we excavated a good number of burials in short amount of time. It was a bit rough on the body though, cause I was up at 6:30, worked until 4:30, relaxed for a bit, drank, then worked on research/notes for my term papers which were due shortly after I returned. But it was all good, though I was worried that I might be messing myself up by not giving myself time to work on the papers.

In the end it all worked out. I returned home from my trip, turned in a paper, gave a presentation on Thursday and bam bam bam started working on my term papers. Somehow, despite taking breaks and goofing off here and there, I managed to get everything--and I mean everything!--done. I turned in a paper on 9/12, on 10/12, and then on Monday, 15/12, I turned in the last two. And suddenly I was done. My semester was over. What a relief! Though weird, because now I had all this free time (relatively speaking) and nothing to do with myself. Hmm....

So now, here I am in Portland, visiting with my dad, brother (who also flew in for the holidays) and the relatives I have here, my awesome cousins Jamiy and Nattie. Plus Grandpa came in too, which is cool. Relaxing, relaxing and relaxing, reading fiction books and just surfin' the net. Though I do have a few things to do, related to my Oaxaca trip last summer, a fellowship I am applying to, and wrestling with the Financial Aid office. And, to top it off, my friend Steven B. is supposedly coming to visit, which is great.

Anyway, to end this post, 3 of my 4 classes have posted grades, and so far I've received all A's, so hopefully my last class will post the same, and I'll have a 4.0 GPA. One hopes, but even if not, considering everything--4 classes, fieldwork right before finals, and relaxing a bunch but still being on top of everything--I'm still set to do very well. Cheers.

Er ya...long time but super busy

Settling into the swing of things I guess. Lots of work of course, nothing I am not unfamiliar with though I definitely am out of practice. But I am getting much better at reading articles and becoming focused. Admittedly though, I've been a bit depressed and all--the pressures of grad school plus homesickness, missing family and friends--is not making for a very happy me at the moment, but I understand that it's an adjustment thing and that over time my mood will improve.

And it's not all bad. I'm slowly making friends, getting in good with professors and just submitted an abstract for the 74th annual meeting of the SAAs (Society for American Archaeology) to do a poster session based on my MA thesis. So hopefully some good comes of that but I've now registered for that meeting, so no matter what I'm going. It's a good networking type thing and could mean a lot of contacts for me. It's also always a good time, so I'm looking forward to it.

Well, I'm not exactly under dark clouds, even though it feels like it from time to time. And things are slowly getting better....its a good day.

Cutting ties and letting go

So there it is. My ARIZONA driver's license. I went to the MVD (motor vehicles division, as opposed to the more official sounding department of motor vehicles in Illinois) last Wednesday to pick one up. Not out of any real desire to stay in compliance with Arizona law--which requires that you get a license 10 days after officially moving, but hey I would rather avoid issues with the cops since I do drive here quite frequently--but more to establish residence for tuition purposes (but I really do love Tucson! heh). It was quite an easy process, much easier than what one has to do in Illinois--no drops of blood required nor signing over the right to name your first-born child to the state. The whole thing took about ten minutes and then quite suddenly I had in my hands an Arizona driver's license.

My old Illinois license now has a hole punched in it, signifying so many things at once. They allow you to keep your old license as long as you let them punch that hole and as I wanted to hold onto it, for memory's sake, I agreed to the heavy symbolism and punch! there went my ties to Illinois, at least in officialdom. I also registered to vote here at the same time, again cutting ties. Sorry Rey Colon! I can no longer vote to keep you in office and that awful Vilma out...you will just have to hold onto the 35th ward without my help.

And so I move on, away from Chicago, away from Illinois, away from my flat but green Midwest. To say I miss it is an understatement, but in all truths I have no intention of going back--at least on any permanent basis (unless of course, something unforeseen happens in terms of employment, which is the only way I see myself returning...is the UC hiring?) Gazing at the mountains here is always a good succor for bouts of homesickness, which tend to become most extreme when I am standing in a grocery store and cannot for the life of me locate sambal olek nor a big bottle of sesame seed oil, something I could find in any two-bit grocery store in Chicago, or for a really good price at the local asian supply stores. Or dried chilies of various sorts....indian goods...non mass-market for gringo consumption thai stuff, etc. Tucson is not by any means "small-town" limited but it does lack in a great many things that were so readily available back home (and it will always be home goddammit, though Mitla is also home as well).

Tonight, though, we go for sushi. And here there maybe an advantage (hopefully). Chicago had great sushi, sure, and I am in the desert here, but the Sea of Cortez is only 4 hours away driving, while fresh seafood--or at least those species required for good sushi--were 6 hours flying time from Chicago. I am hoping to all the gods in heavens that that will translate into some awesome raw fish. We'll see, and I will of course report back later on what I am calling the "Great Sushi Experiment of 2008, or alternatively An Alleviation of Homesickness Through Raw Fish". Peace.

p.s. check out the expiration date. According to this great state, I do not have to get another license until I am the ripe old age of 65. Nice.

So yeah, now I'm here.

And entering adjustment period.....neeehhhooowwww. Right now I am sitting in the South Ballroom at UofA's Student Union building, taking advantage of the awesome wireless network as I wait for the next phase of the program to begin. What makes this even more awesome is that I am typing away on my brand new black Macbook, pure sex on my lab heh. I love it so much and can't stop kissing it. Silly I know but....

Anyway, still vacillating between excitement about starting this awesome new phase in my life and sadness at what I've left behind. Alex came out with me to hang out in general and help me adjust in particular. Unfortunately, he leaves today to fly back to Chicago and once he does...sigh. That's it. I am here for sure...which is a little hard to accept at the moment because all of my stuff is still in a warehouse somewhere in Chicago and I am currently living out of my suitcase, though I have acquired a desk, a kick-ass laptop and back-up drive, and soon I will actually have a real bed. Well, a futon actually, but it will be custom made and I've always enjoyed futons more than beds anyway. Hopefully, when my stuff finally arrives I will truly accept the fact that I am really here, and for the next 5 years...ack!

Well, will post another update soon. Classes start next week, and I am really looking forward to that. This Friday is also the Anthropology department's graduate orientation, so I will finally get to meet my peers and such. Looking forward to that as well. Cheers!

Saying good-byes, making hellos....

Today is the big day. I have a one-way ticket flying me to Tucson, AZ. Starting a new life there, my new incarnation as UA PhD student. This past week has certainly been a see-saw of emotions, rapidly cycling between excitement, nervousness, sadness, depression, elation, etc. My SBFFFS (super best friend forever for shizzle) Drea came up from Cow-town southern Illinois on Thursday to get in some quality time. We spent a lovely evening together, drinking and playing cards and going over the good ol' times.

Went to bed rather late that night of course but I still managed to get up around 9am the next morning. I woke up on Friday ready for the day...excited to get my haircut, excited to have my party and see my peeps. Then the next thing I knew, I was standing on my deck, wearing my party dress and conversing with friends, the sun setting behind me. How did the day pass by so quickly? How could my last month and a half here go so fast? That's when it really hit home that I was leaving all of this--friends, family, the city I grew up in and adore--behind.

Now it's Saturday morning. My flight, thankfully, leaves later this evening, so I have time to relax and enjoy myself (yes!). A bunch of friends spent the night last night...it was actually quite hilarious to walk through the house this morning seeing people randomly scatter on the floor and couches. We're going to wake up with banana bread, bloody marys and whatever else my mom can cook up. Then its time to start the long good-byes.......

Okay, so now the panic sets in.....

Just looked over the logistics of moving and the cost of everything (which I can technically afford but still...)is setting off a panic. Well, maybe that actually started earlier today, when I was at the Canal--formerly Maxwell--St. market and it just hit me hard how much I am going to miss this city. Miss Chicago, miss family friends and the streets I know well and the great big lake where you can't see the other side. Damn.

Alex is right now trying to sooth me by pointing out how much I have to look forward to when I move. That I am getting to do what I love to do finally and that I have Miriam and my grandpa and well, my whole future ahead of me. I take this in, nod and tell him "I know". And I do. But still...my heart is racing and I just feel overwhelmed.

Hmm. Breath. 1...2...3...and relax.

Memories of a photograph

A few Tuesdays ago, after cooking and eating a great summer-y meal, my mom and I sat down with a bottle of wine and set about doing something that desperately needed to be done--sort through 3 decades worth of memories captured in photographic form. Amid much laughter and "aw, do you remember....", we roughly categorized the pictures of our lives into "kids", "mom & dad", pictures I wanted and "other people". Stories flowed and tears ebbed--never tears of sorrow of course, but instead joy...the joy of life, of times shared, of hours passed in good humors surrounded by friends and loved ones, lifetimes of celebrations.

Many of my favorite pictures were those from childhood, of my brother and I happy and secure in ourselves and our lives, loved by caring parents. From the earliest years of long-forgotten infancy to the troubled but still good times of juvenile angst and rainbow-dyed hair, it was a pleasure certainly to watch, so to speak, as he and I grew up. How funny to think that we were once that small, helpless. How funny to remember the fuzziness of childhood, a kaleidoscope of impressions, sounds, colors. We even found the pictures they took when my brother was born, upstairs in the house we grew up in and which is, sadly, currently being sold. I love this house. I love it even more when I look at pictures of ourselves in and around our house...like the ones of me when we first moved in...on the porch with the sun shining brightly. Our house has, as we all have, undergone amazing transformations. I look at some photos and see this white trash lawn with a Ford on cement blocks and a happy little four-year old boy swinging on a rope from a tree. I look at others still and see the fruits of my parent's hard labor, a backyard turned into an urban oasis exploding in flowers and trees.

It was also quite thought-provoking and intriguing to gaze at photos of my parents in their own youth. I pored over every wedding photo, laughing at the little details such as my dad wearing sun-glasses as they cut the cake, or the old 80s hairstyles sported by my uncles and aunts. And you realize that gosh, you're parents who you've always viewed as the ancient, un-hip set were once young and carefree like you. That your mom at 25 is remarkably like yourself at 25--which is the current age space I occupy now. As we searched through the box we came across many photos of a trip to Mexico my parents took before they married, and I threw a bunch of those into my pile of photos I wanted to keep. For memory's sake, even though its not my own.
Even better--photos of my grandparents when they were younger as well. As children our grandparents come to us already wrinkled and aged, and its difficult for a child to imagine that these people were once children too--young adults with desires and dreams, parents raising the people who would grow up to create yourself in turn. The first photo that went into my pile was the one of my dad's parents on their wedding day. And its funny to think of how these human beings, their faces lined by time and wisdom, have shaped your life as well. My passion for archaeology, while I am sure would have probably been there anyway, still would not have been the same without my grandpa, and his own driving interest in the field.



And so on and so on...the faces of people that have impacted your life...made you laugh and brought forth tears. Those that remain and those that slipped away, captured briefly in a photo taken one summer/winter day.

And the people who love/d you most. Sons and mothers, fathers and daughters. Friends, lovers, cousins...anger and strife, joy and heartbreak, and above all laughter...much laughter shared in love.

Looking at 3 decades of memories captured in photographic form, I realized how good life was, and how good it has been. I have laughed more than I cried, I have loved hard and been loved well in return...I have known more joy and light than darkness, and I have the pictures to prove it.

Updates and exciting news!

Okay, so some of you know and most of you don't, but the past year I've spent stressed out undergoing the whole applying to grad school process--which is a bitch and a half but well worth it if I ever aspire to be more than a shovel bum for the rest of my life. Well, I somehow lucked into being offered admission at the four programs I was interested in--I know, I can't quite believe it myself!

Anyway, I made a decision recently and accepted the offer to go to the University of Arizona, for a myriad of reasons including a) its a good program; b) Takeshi Inomata; c) my Grandpa is only a half-hour away and my best friend lives in Tucson, goes to UA and is giving me an awesome place to live; and d) money! I am so excited about starting school again--and I still can't quite believe that I actually did it.

On top of that, I recently found out this week that I have been awarded the Field Museum Anthropology Alliance 2008 summer internship--and they're granting me the full amount I requested! Yes! This means that a lot of the necessary stuff I do down here--travel, food (gotta eat!), laundry and of course, precious precious internet--will be covered by the monies from the internship. Which also means, more money for personal stuff--hello trajes and rebosos galore and mezcal!--and for when I get home to Chicago broke with no job. Hurrah! Three cheers for moi.

A series of dreams

So last night I had a series of three, fairly weird and fairly intense dreams. They were all inter-woven and connected somehow, but the three main ones stand out clearly...the images still lingering in my mind somewhere.

A mouth full of teeth

Can't really remember how it began--can anyone ever really?--but Drea and I were walking in Logan Square and there must have been some sort of festival or something that had just happened because people were out and about but slowly dispersing. We were just talking and chatting when we saw these young teenagers throwing soda cans at some industrial construction equipment (?). Like a chorus we screamed "Assholes" and suddenly one of them flung a can at us. It hit Drea straight in the mouth and cut her lip.

I got angry and, spotting some police nearby--the boys for whatever reason didn't run away--we flagged the cops down and told them what had happened. They quickly caught the rascals--one of the jerks was rolling his eyes!--when suddenly I noticed or felt all these weirdly shaped hard roll-y things in my mouth. I guess a or the can had hit me as well and broken the teeth along one side of my mouth! I had to talk around my broken teeth bits and I could really feel the sensations physically.

Meanwhile, the cops, instead of taking the boys to jail, they brought all of us to a house full of neighborhood kids--I got the sense that they wanted us to talk it out. I then gave a speech in Spanish about how I grew up in the neighborhood, that I traveled to Oaxaca a lot and that I'm not the enemy, all the while speaking around the broken teeth bits in my mouth. At the end I was finally able to spit them out in to my hand, a bloody collection of bone resembling little pebbles.

Rosita's tail

I forget how this one began, but somehow it bleeds over from the first. Needless to say I was back in Chicago from Oaxaca and when I came home I noticed my cat Rosita's tail had been chopped clean off--perhaps a machetazo (machete wound)?--and there was a huge red flesh wound where his tail used to be. Which, for whatever reason, was like that of a Clouded Leopard's. He was holding his tail between his paws and licking it, and I was seriously afraid he would bleed out. My mom and I were going to take him to the vet but my brother was being stubborn about something and for whatever reason his obstinance was preventing us from going.

Finally, he relented and agreed to go with us to the vet and we bundled Rosita up in a white sheet and took hom to the emergency vet's office, which thankfully and weirdly was just the next block north of us. We brought Rosita in and they whisked him away. Then there was some stuff involving my local library and a television comedy show based there--I'm a little hazy on the details--and a Pac-man like game. A few days later, I was back in Chicago--again?-- and Verguei was taking me to my mom's house (again?). I kept asking him how Rosita was doing and he refused to tell me, saying I would see when I get there. I told him how mean it was to keep information like that from as I was so worried and why couldn't he just tell me. When we arrived at the house he said "There he is" and I saw Rosita, hearty and hale, still with the big Clouded Leopard tail!

The Airplane--hopefully not a portent of things to come....

In this one I was leaving to go back to Chicago (again?). I was at the airport with like 5 pieces of giant luggage and I checked them all in but two without a problem. I was then taking an elevator and I showed my ticket to someone before getting on/off? and they said "Have a safe flight Ms. Different Last Name" and I was like "What?" I checked my ticket and saw that someone else's name was on there. Somehow they had given me another person's flight itenerary!

I started running around panicking. I forget all that I did but at some point I had left an orange roller suitcase somewhere and when I went back to get it they were locking it up and about to take it away (unattended luggage will be destroyed...) but I said it was mine and explained my situation and they let me have it back. Somehow I located the baggage people loading the plane and told them about the mix-up--they said it was no problem and they corrected the name on the luggage. I checked the ticket again and saw that it said "6:00pm" for the flight to Chicago, and I knew mine was at 10:00am, and it had the wrong gate number and everything! Panicking anew, I tracked down someone to find out what my correct gate number was, checked my watch and saw I had but minutes until the flight left and misplaced that damn orange suitcase again.

I raced to my gate, flying through security and ran and ran till I got there--just as the plane began pulling away! I started to argue with the person at the gate, telling them that United had made a mistake and pleading with them to bring the plane back, all the while watching it taxing down the runway and began to take off. The plane had barely lifted into the air and I was still arguing with the person at the gate when suddenly the plane just exploded. In sllloooowww motion I watched a huge fireball head straight for us and the gate person and I turned and immediately dove for cover--I dived straight under these seats in the waiting area and felt/saw glass shards flying all round me.

Then my alarm went off at 5:30am.