Dear Rob

I had been traveling 3 days. To say I was tired would be an understatement. I couldn’t sleep on the flight to Ghana because I was in between a German man with lots of tattoos and British writer. I knew he was a writer because he was on the phone with someone when he first sat down and he was arguing with them about his article. He was exactly the way a british writer should look. He had on black dress pants and a black coat and a grey scarf. His hair was black and curly streaked with a little grey and it was messy in a tortured british writer kind of way… but he isn’t the point of this post. I walked down the stairs off the plane and spotted a Boston redsox baseball cap. I naturally gravitated in that direction and underneath the baseball cap was a young guy clutching a US passport. An American. I hadn’t spoken to an American in about three days. The guy ended up behind me in the torturously long line for customs so I made up my mind to talk to him. “Are you an American?” I said casually. “Yes I am. And you?” “Yup.” We then swapped home towns and reasons we were there. He was the same year at school as me. He was pre-med, in Ghana to work in some clinics. We talked for a while about traveling and college and life. It was a good conversation even if he did keep saying “word” in response to everything I said. “I’m Rob.” He finally said. “I’m Elizabeth.” We got through customs and then pushed our way to the front of baggage claim. He found his bag right away. “Have a good trip!” I said. “Thanks you too. See ya later!” “ya see ya” I’m not really sure why we said that. I probably will never see him again, but I have never been so thankful for a total stranger in my life. At that moment, alone in a strange country Rob felt like my only friend in the world. So thank you, best friend Rob.

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