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trip to america

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Three years ago, in July 2001, I had the opportunity to visit America, the land of freedom. I was thrilled when I overheard my mother talking to my friend's father; Tom's father on the phone for me to join my Toms family in their holiday to America. I could not sleep that night.

The following morning, my mother informed me of the good news: That I would be going to Florida for two weeks, and that I would accompany my friend's family. I could not have asked for a better morning in Britain. The sun was shining and so was I. Almost immediately I picked up the phone and rang my Tom's father to thank him, and for me and Tom to plan our holiday.

The next three weeks seemed almost like a lifetime, I could not wait to get there. My excitement increased day by day until we finally drove to the airport. Only then I realised that the newt few weeks, would probably be the best weeks of my life so far. Despite the rain falling and the long waiting in the airport, with our heavy suitcases had a nice trip.

When someone says to their parents, “You guys want to pay for a trip to England for me, don’t you?” and they say yes, then a certain amount of worry comes to that person immediately preceding the flight out of the country. Will I like England? Will I learn anything? Will I enjoy all the places I saw on TV? Will the British hate me? Am I going to hate it and blow several thousand euros (well, pounds when I exchange it) my parents spent on me for a favor I was joking with them about and feel incredibly guilty when they ask how it was and I’m forced to say, “I hated it” and “Great Britain is overrated” and then feel terrible the rest of the summer and and…?

And thankfully, that isn’t the case for most people when they go on vacation. Probably just me. While waiting in the terminal for my flight (or our flight, rather, as there were 23 people on the trip), it certainly was unnerving to hear a group of strangers talking about how much the trip was going to cost them and the kind of debt they would be in. Certainly too, hearing, “I’ll cut you” while jesting with a young woman who introduced herself as Liz did nothing to make me feel more at ease.

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