Jesus is my homeboy

I keep forgetting how eventful a weekend it was.  Before my plane left the runway on Friday, the woman beside me was holding my hand and telling me that Jesus loves me in Korean.  I have never been so impatient to get to cruising altitude when the flight attendant would come with coffee so I could hold my cup with both hands and nurse it for the rest of the hour.  This woman, and most of the people seated around me, were somehow affiliated with a raw food company.  I was given two tablets of estrogen, some orange chocolate from Jeju, and a packet of powdered calcium.   The tablets probably are not estrogen, but that’s what she kept saying, and seemed to indicate that they would relieve cramps.  Then she changed seats with a friend who spoke more English so that we could “story,” and her friend, who wants to learn English in order to be a missionary in North Korea and China, wanted to know my motivation for learning Korean.  Let’s put “learning” in scare quotes.  And then she wanted to know “Do you know Jesus Christ?”

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