Atlanta to Miami

I'm sitting inside this little Cuban restaurant, MI Ranchito Castillo on 27th Street in Miami. The music is so loud it takes me a moment to realize the waitress can only speak Spanish. I should get used to this.

My Spanish is sad.

Cerveza? That one I can do. Judging by pictures of what I don't want, I am finally able to point to a line item that I think I will eat. It isn't lengua (tongue), so I feel safe. I thought I was ordering empanadas. It wound up being fried shrimp. I still feel safe.

It is only 8 o'clock at night, and I am exhausted. It was an early start to the day, even if it was a short flight down here. My dad made me cry, twice. Not from consternation or disapproval, but for his support. Besides, he was the one to take me to the airport today. I wanted to keep hugging him at the airport because, well, because he is the last tangible piece to my friends and family that I will hold onto for some time.

Talk is easy. Action?

I mean, I have been a solo-style girl for quite a while. I travel for business on my own all of the time. I used to spend three out of four weeks on the road at times. Today, however, you would think I had never stepped foot in an airport. Heck, for all of the times I have been in the Atlanta airport, I didn't even know there was a "T" concourse. Not having to take the train, moving sidewalk, or a single escalator, and I suddenly felt that I was a stranger in my own home base. I forgot to take off my shoes when stepping through the TSA pre-check -- they didn't notice, which made it even odder to me.

A flood of texts came in 10 minutes to boarding. Was that just chance? Or had my friends actually paid attention enough to know when my flight was leaving. Yes, there were tears again.

Just when I thought I was making the dumbest mistake of my life, I stepped onto board and looked into the face of a 65-year-old Clark Kent.

"How are you today?" I am sure he was not expecting an answer.

"I'm lovely," I giddied out in the exuberant way only I seem to muster at random given moments.

"Lovely? Lovely you say?" He was serving first class at this point.

"Yes, I just sold my house and left my job and now I am going to Bolivia for three months to, I don't know, follow my dreams? I am going to work in a foster home, and take some boys to Machu Picchu." Ok, now my exuberance turned to babbling that was just plain silly. Also, something only I seem to muster and random given moments.

He smiled at me, and said he agreed, I was lovely.

One of the first class passengers grabbed my hand and smiled at me and kissed my hand. "What a day to be sitting on this plane. It is always a special day when you overhear a dream being born."

I skipped off to my seat feeling like I stepped on a movie set. I watched the pattern of the clouds as we were airborne and thought of my story and the whys and the the whatfors and the random alignment f events that landed me in the air.

When I went to get off the plane I was a little more clearheaded. I was in no hurry, so I was one of the last to leave. "Excuse me," I motioned to the steward again, the Superman stunt double. "You need to know, you are exactly what I would have pictured Clark Kent as once he grew up."

Now, it was his turn to smile. I actually can say I have seen a twinkle. "It makes sense," he said. "I am Christopher Reeves cousin. There is a resemblance in all the men in the family."

Maybe it was a lie, but I am pretty sure I just flew in the air with Superman once-removed.

If that wasn't sign enough, I meet the husband of my hosts at the AirBNB residence. Halfway through a wonderful conversation on politics (it has been a long time since I heard one), somehow it comes out that my host is a professional photographer. (JJ Jansen and wfrphotography.com shout-out). He takes the next three hours to give me an impromptu photo lesson on landscape photography and editing software. I am now a member of the Miami Photography Club.

And that is how it begins. A few mistakes, a few tears, and then I land in the lap of Superman and serendipity.