that’s my island,” pointing excitedly at the sign. I gave Mikey a big hug, said bye to his friends, and without further explanation, I slung my large orange and black backpack over my shoulder, jumped out of line, and made a dash toward a makeshift booth near the airplane.
Sounding as though I was trying to escape someone, I asked the middle-aged guy behind the counter, “Do you have room for one more?” Folding the newspaper he was reading, he said, “You’re the last.” I paid him fifty euros, took my ticket, and boarded the plane.
I was going back to paradise.I didn’t have a hotel reservation or a place to stay, but I knew I’d figure it out. I hadn’t planned to return, but the island called me back like a siren beckoning a lost sailor.