Step 2: Forgetting To Call When You Land.
It's two in the morning and I have finally arrived at my dorm room. Donald Trump is president so obviously racism is still a thing and I was held back at the airport for way longer than I should have been. I swear, I'm not carrying a bomb.
I plop my overweight, overfilled suitcases on my carpeted dorm and sink into my bed. This is heaven on Earth and I have been to 'five star hotels' in Pakistan. Cue the eye roll.
Somehow I manage to drag myself out of the bed and I dread how hard it will be for the next four years of my life. To honour my family, I begin to unpack my suitcases. Pakistanis are pretty organised, despite what the traffic tells you. So after fumbling with gazillions of keys I manage to unlock my suitcases and shove (I mean, neatly fold and place) all my clothes into the tiny wardrobe. When I say that I mean its pretty spacious but I have more than six hundred jorehs. Let me tell you, I ain't wearing any of these jorehs because, it's America baby. Who wears duppatta here? If I am invited to anywhere Pakistani, I am not going because firstly I am a loner and secondly I have heard that uni is a real pain.
After finally unpacking and contemplating my life choices, I get up from the floor with sore legs. Don't you know, we sit mendak style. I make my way to the tiny bathroom with my pajamas in hand. In the hopes of it washing away the pain and stress, I take a boiling hot shower only managing to burn my back. But, kudos to my new vanilla scented shampoo which survived the heat that also makes me smell really good.
Trudging out of the bathroom, I charge my phone and fall on the bed with not a single thought in my head. However, just as I am about to drift off I see my window and curtains wide open. Amma's superstitious words echo in my head and I curse under my breath as I drag my feet along the carpet to shut the window and curtains.
Gladly, I fall back onto my bed. I am exhausted and you really can't blame a girl who has been on an eighteen hour flight, who was held up at the airport for three hours, fought to find a cab, carried heavy ass suitcases up the stairs on her own, pried the locks off her suitcases, unpacked clothes that weigh one kilogram each and managed to listen to my mother's superstitiousness (yes, I am at the point of exhaustion where I create words, deal with it).
Finally dozing off, I remember tai-aboo's words play in my head : 'Skype karna'.
Shit.
*
A/N
There you go, chapter two. What'd ya think?
Glossary:
Jorehs- suits ie. Pakistani clothes sets
Duppatta- scarf
Mendak- frog
Amma's- mother's
Tai-Aboo's- uncle's
Skype karna- Do Skype us.
