San Jose

Stupid new shoes, I think as I look down at my brand-new AVIA sneakers. My shoelace has come undone, again. My shoes are so new that the shoelaces can’t even stay tied, because they’re too clean. They surreptitiously slide out from right under the knot I tie over and over. I know they’re out to get me. They want me to trip and stumble, so I can announce to the whole Costa Rican world that yes, I’m a foreigner and that I am so terribly out of my element.

Time to double-knot.

I bend down to give them one last good tie when black smoke erupts from the tail pipe of a city bus as it pulls away from the bus stop. Instantaneous hacking-up-of-the-lung occurs, not to mention, my contacts are no match for the burning fossil fuel. Welcome to San Jose, I think to myself. When I can peek out through my swollen eyelids, I can see that my new study abroad mates are also flailing about and batting away the airy debris.

As soon as the dusty cloud clears, we are able to cross the street to our hotel. I take one step, and BAM! I fall off the curb. I looked down at my shoes and imagine my shoelaces high-fiving each other. Mission accomplished, they say.