“I from out’f town”

- The flight couldn’t have been more pleasant.

- The line for customs was huge; I think it took an hour to get through. No biggie.
- I got totally jipped at the currency exchange. Bahh
- I grabbed a poorly aligned cart for my four-piece luggage and hauled a cab just fine.

As the day progressed I couldn’t help but think of Hollywood and certain movie scenes. First, I felt like a young Lindsay Lohan in “The Parent Trap” as I starred, face-against-the-glass, at the sights outside the window of my taxi: aka a brand new Mercedes-Benz. They fancy in Brussels.

However, I also felt like Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker who dealt with a rude French cab driver in "Rush Hour 3." I think mine hated me. When I got out of the car, naturally, I figured he’d dropped me off at the address on the piece of paper I handed him -- You know, the American way. Well, little did I know that he dropped me off a block away from my flat. This may not seem far but please be aware that I’m hauling 150 lbs of weight.

Here is where I felt like Cameron Diaz in “The Holiday” when she struggled in the suitcase battle of tug-a-war… in HEELS! Yes... I too, was in heels of course.

Picture this: I had a HUGE body-bag-looking duffel bag balancing on one suit case with wheels and another medium sized bag on the other wheeled suitcase. I struggled half the block, but I managed. It was now time to cross the street and I thought: “Aww. shit.” I had to let go of the death grip I had on the suitcases, just for a split second, in order to reach the crosswalk button. In that split second the four suitcases fell flat on the ground and the damn light to walk turned green immediately...cars stopped on both sides. As I frantically struggled to gather my belongings the tick of the signal to “walk” was ticking faster and faster. Anxiety ensued. I thought (shit) I NEED to get across NOW. I also thought of my European professor who warned us via email (I quote) "Careful with Belgian drivers, they have no mercy for pedestrians." I imagined those morning rage glares and I broke into a frantic sweat! I couldn’t get the wheels to face the ground. I panicked. The stupid clock kept ticking. No time to straighten out the suitcases. So I yanked and dragged the suitcases backwards and on their sides with all the strength I could across the street!! I didn’t dare to look the drivers in the eyes. I’m 102% positive I served as their comic relief for the day.

When I got to the other side, two older men came up to me with lots of French jabber. I was so distressed with the bags that none of the French phrases I had crammed two weeks prior came to mind. I looked at them helplessly, shrugged my shoulders, and the first/only word that came out of my mouth was “America” in a whimpering tone. They responded with unfriendly looks and gestures as they wandered away. I should've just responded with Jackie Chan’s famous line: “I from out’f town” lol.

Anyway, after readjusting the bags a few times I finally made it to the gate that read “Agence Eckelmans Ixelles”. I paged Marty (one of the kids in my program) and I was full of joy when I heard a familiar American voice. He let me in and helped me with my bags… thank the good God!

Finding my room must have taken anywhere from 30-45 min. Poor Marty is so scrawny he could barely help me with my bags and it took us FOREVER to haul them around. But this place is a true labyrinth on the inside. Too complex to explain. But my room number is 4/220 and I saw this as a good sign since 4/22 is my birthday!! =).

In my head I knew this part of the trip was going to be the toughest. I somewhat prepared myself mentally since I knew exactly how much weight I had. But in the end…Mission Impossible -accomplished! =)