March 7, 1990 On our way to America through the Humanitarian Operation, my parents, older sister, older brother and i followed the rest of the immigrants onto the huge airplane. Our first time flying, everything seemed peculiar, everything petrified us as if each of our movement shook the aircraft and caused it to stop its way to the promised land, we remained motionless. Hours passed, i was literally dying of thirst so i made a gesture rubbing my throat and dried mouth telling my mom who sat by the isle that i needed a drink. We waited patiently, not knowing that we could request for beverage, not informing that food and drink were included, but most importantly, not being able to communicate, until the flight attendant pushed her cart right by our seats. Mom quickly pointed in the middle of the beverage cart, whispering in Vietnamese cam cam cam, she wanted orange juice. Confused, the flight attendant maintained her smile and poured some hot liquid into a cup and gave it to my mom who passed right to me. I took a sip and omg yuck, it was plain coffee, lolz. We still mention this experience every time we have a large family gathering, silly old mom!. We settled in California where i went to school to learn my abc. Mr. B (Brodowski), mr C (Cardoza), and mrs D (Donna) whose names i would never forget taught me English and guided me every step intergrating me into my second home ... In appreciation of every teacher, educator, and school counselor ... please mention this post now til the end of august to get 25% off of all services when visiting us! Once again, THANK YOU!
Posted on: Mon, 04 Aug 2014 12:37:29 +0000
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