impulsive and forgettful

Write about one of your faults 

           My flight was scheduled to leave at 7:55 am.  I arrived at the airport at 5:00 after sleeping on the floor in my friend's English teaching center that is located half a city closer to Moscow Domodedovo airport than my room.

            My bag attracted attention immediately. They have preliminary x-ray screeners right inside the entrance doors. On the screen was something in the shape of a hand grenade. The machine operator probably thought, "That can't be a hand grenade."  He called his supervisor.
            "What's that?" he asked the supervisor.
            "Looks like a hand grenade."
            They turned to me. "What's that?"
            "It's a hand grenade."

           

I’ve left my umbrella on a metro train.

Soda in my bag spilled onto my teaching books.

I left my wallet on a city bus.

In Tirana, My money pouch with my passport inside fell off my body.

I left my bag, with my wallet, teaching books, apartment lease, and passport, under a bench in a Moscow metro station.

My back pack with TWO computers inside was stolen at a Rome train station.

I lost my wallet in the Zagreb airport.

            The first night in Tirana, I discovered that my apartment keys were no longer in my pocket. I was exhausted and lay on the cement outside below my fourth floor apartment while my landlord sent me a spare key. I fell asleep and awoke to a couple of policeman asking me my story was.

I have a Pollyanna attitude about life. I think that everyone thinks the same way I do. I have the impression that everyone will understand that I have no malice in my heart and that I want the best for everyone.  Why would there be a problem bringing a hand grenade into the Moscow airport? After all, it was from World War II! The dogs that were supposed to sniff gunpowder and explosives didn’t seem to find anything.    

“Это круто. Моим мальчикам будут очень нравяться." (It's cool. My boys will really like them.)

Who would think that the high school student who I had befriended who visited me at my apartment, would be the one who stole my computer? Yes, he was discovered when he asked his teacher how to remove the name that appeared on startup. But why shouldn’t I believe that he bought it some other kid on the street with the intention of giving it back to me? Why shouldn’t I speak in his defense at his trial?

Not infrequently in foreign countries, people see me and say, “Hello.”

“How did you know? I’m dressed like you. I look like you.

“I just knew!” they answer

It’s in the eyes. I look around. I read the signs, I pay attention to beggars. Locals have their heads down, consumed by their own problems. 

I’m honest to a fault. Iowans have an oversized enthusiasm for our home state. I am not so excited to be from the United States, but I am delighted to tell people that I’m from Iowa. While it doesn’t make sense to take pleasure in belonging one section of the whole, but not happy to be part of the whole itself, I can’t deny this illogical piece of character.