Campus love-in

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It wasn't until the pilot came on the intercom and informed us that in thirty minutes we would be landing at Kennedy International Airport, that I really faced the fact I was on my way home. After the first couple of years in South America, I was ready to believe I would never go back. But never is a helluva long time, and even though everything was still as good as ever, the job still paying, the chicks still on tap, and the living still easy, I started to get restless. Don't ask me what was wrong. Maybe I just got homesick, needed to be back among my own countrymen-and countrywomen. A vacation wouldn't do it, I decided. If I was going to go back then I would go back, and settle in, the way I had settled in in Colombia. Maybe I'd fit in. I knew a lot of things had changed, and maybe that was why I wanted to return. Money was a problem. The job teaching English in Medellin hardly paid enough for me to save any of it. I had to have a job waiting for me. I started sending out application letters, hoping there would be something open for me next year. To my dismay, nobody seemed interested in hiring me. Then carne the response from Mountainview Girls School. They had an opening for an English instructor, but there was a catch: I would have to begin immediately and teach the final two months before the summer vacation. I got nervous, thinking there might not be another offer, and decided to accept. I conned my way out of my Colombian contract and prepared to leave. Of course, as usual in these situations, there were loose ends that needed tying. Raquel, for instance. She had been my on and off mistress for the past year. For the past six months it was mostly on, and, I modestly admit, she had fallen for me pretty hard.

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