There's a lot to be said about the miracles of modern international transportation but no matter how you slice it, it's still hard to get out of a tiny Tibetan village in the Himalayan Mountains. It involves a lot of attention to detail (or at least a vague idea of 'We'll take some yak this far and try not to get blown or bucked off the side of the mountain' and 'From here we'll hire a jeep to take us to this airstrip where we can hitch a ride on a cargo plane in exchange for helping them unload on the back end' and 'And from this point we'll take a bus to take a train to get to a real international airport and then we're home free!') that Nate frankly doesn't really have the patience for.
So it's a good thing that he's not the only brain working on this; if he was, they'd probably be stalled midway down a mountain right now - yaks don't like him. Something about his face? Whatever, it's a serious problem and it usually involves a lot of spit. As it is, he and Elena have got themselves a nice cushy ride on only somewhat rickety small aircraft that should get them as far as Mumbai. From there, he knows a guy (Sully knows a guy) that can get them back to the States. Get Elena back to the States.
--Look, it's all a little fuzzy and he's trying not to get ahead of himself here.
Braced against the side of the plane, Nate desperately tries to steady his journal across his knee so he can make a few notes. It's not easy with the plane shuddering, vibrating from low grade turbulence as they make their way South. How she can sleep in this is beyond him.
They're more than lucky that he isn't the only mind working on this, Elena didn't fancy being stuck on the side of a mountain with a couple of yaks spitting furiously at Nate's face. She's had a tiring few weeks, and a stiff few weeks, bed rest did not agree with her especially not when all her feet wanted to do was move and walk.
Now though she just wants to sleep, which is probably why she basically crashed the moment they got passage on the least-likely-to-break-apart-under-their-feet aircraft and set off.And once she fell asleep, boy did she sleep like a rock, the most unshakable rock in existence. Until, that is, the plane hit a certain pocket of turbulence that almost jerked her from her seat.
"Woah." Elena spends the first couple of seconds blinking rapidly as her eyes adjust, hands gripping her set in an effort to keep herself from falling flat on her face. Eyes adjusted and a little more steady than before (turbulence doesn't make that easy), she stretches her neck and cranes a look over to Nate.
"You're taking notes? In this?" Says the woman who was asleep in it, as she fights off a yawn. Pot, kettle.
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sir walking disaster
wow ok that's kind of rude
So it's a good thing that he's not the only brain working on this; if he was, they'd probably be stalled midway down a mountain right now - yaks don't like him. Something about his face? Whatever, it's a serious problem and it usually involves a lot of spit. As it is, he and Elena have got themselves a nice cushy ride on only somewhat rickety small aircraft that should get them as far as Mumbai. From there, he knows a guy (Sully knows a guy) that can get them back to the States. Get Elena back to the States.
--Look, it's all a little fuzzy and he's trying not to get ahead of himself here.
Braced against the side of the plane, Nate desperately tries to steady his journal across his knee so he can make a few notes. It's not easy with the plane shuddering, vibrating from low grade turbulence as they make their way South. How she can sleep in this is beyond him.
whatever it is so true
Now though she just wants to sleep, which is probably why she basically crashed the moment they got passage on the least-likely-to-break-apart-under-their-feet aircraft and set off.And once she fell asleep, boy did she sleep like a rock, the most unshakable rock in existence. Until, that is, the plane hit a certain pocket of turbulence that almost jerked her from her seat.
"Woah." Elena spends the first couple of seconds blinking rapidly as her eyes adjust, hands gripping her set in an effort to keep herself from falling flat on her face. Eyes adjusted and a little more steady than before (turbulence doesn't make that easy), she stretches her neck and cranes a look over to Nate.
"You're taking notes? In this?" Says the woman who was asleep in it, as she fights off a yawn. Pot, kettle.