Rough Draft #3

The Rickety Old Bridge

When looking downwards, one could only see the past of a great adventure. What I saw, was a future of meaning. Traveling is one thing that my family is known for. About four years ago, (the summer of 2004) I realized that there is more to the world than meets the eye. I decided this when crossing an old train bridge that conjoined the border line between Costa Rica and Panama.

It was about 11 am and waking up to the sound of a squawking bird, I remember what had lay behind us, the six hour bus ride holding the maximum 25 passengers including the frantic chicken who had just woke me up. "Here we are, the border. You will be guided across the bridge and will then, be picked up on the other side by another bus," the bus driver said in a hurrying tone as we came to a stop at the misplaced border which had looked as if it was used as a bomb target. Guided, I thought, what is it about that word that just seems awkward in that sentence? For this was not an ordinary bridge, what I was standing on looked like two by fours on top of steel bars, trying to create some what of a path. I knew that this kind of experience was one to thank my mom for.

At this point, my brain just shut off. All of the thoughts just drained out except for one thing about the reason why I was here. Lost. Misplaced maybe. I remember that long and miserable bridge, the one across the alligator infested, frigid water which seemed to get more familiar by the minute. It was not until the middle of this adventure when I looked down and realized that the figures, (100 feet below us) were actually people.

As I stepped off of the bridge, I looked back, amazed to see what we had accomplished. However, I was later implied that this journey was not over yet. When we entered the office to get stamps in our passports, we were told that my cousin's passport had not been stamped in Costa Rica. This meant that we were to be left in this run down border shack. We were in limbo, out of Costa Rica and not in Panama.

Sure enough, my uncle had simply handed us the wrong passport so he only had to give us the other one but if you know my uncle, you know that sometimes things go wrong. We were there for an hour. Soon enough it was getting dark. I remember that feeling of isolation, not knowing whether or not to speak for comfort, or stay cool and keep my mouth shut. Finally, my mom came back, bringing with her a sense of relief. After the frantic hurdle of taking two more buses and a taxi, we got to my mom’s friends house.

Finally, we arrived at home.

Obviously, third world countries can be quite confusing as you can see, not everyone has it as easy as we do. For after my experience, I have learned to to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes, I look at a normal train bridge and think of it more as a gift than something you take for granted. So overall, memories are in peoples' hearts take this adventure for instance, the one true thing that makes it have so much value is that it was something that no one else has had because I did it. That is what is so special about memories; there is only one of them.