"How's transitioning back to the US?"

"How's the transition back to the US?"

This is a common question that I am asked. Usually I say, "You know, it's been somewhat hard but I am glad to be here."

Well, tonight was a different story. Let me just say, my roommate last year was the professional popcorn maker. We made popcorn ALL THE TIME. On the stove, with oil. So I just moved into my apartment like a week ago. Just got home from an event and just really wanted popcorn. Perfect! Nothing much needed for that but kernals, oil, and a pot.

Well... I did everything that I would have done if I were in the DR. This was the result:

You may ask yourself, "Why is there dirt in the background?" Well, lol after one failed attempt (the kernals didn't pop as they should have) I tried again, persistence in the key right? Well, I got really happy, it seemed like it was going to be a good batch and then as the pot starting filling up more and more I see brown oil coming out of it. I'm like internally, "Oh crap." I turn off the burner but since it's the old school kind it takes awhile to cool down. Anytime I move it it makes even more exploding sounds and if I accidently crack it black smoke comes out with a corresponding explosion. Okay, so maybe the way I'm describing it doesn't seem like an emergency situation but I've made popcorn for a whole year this way and I've never encountered anything like this before. I couldn't open up the lid because it seemed it actually got worse. So lol I start praying and looking up oil fires online to see what to do if for whatever reason this turns into one- bear in mind I just went through insurance information with the apartment complex and her throughly explaining how that works. Didn't find much information there. In my franic search I type in "Popcorn gone bad" lol... a link came up about how long popcorn is good for and I'm like... nope.. this can't wait. I grab the oven mittens and head for the hill. 

Yes, the hill. I spend a good 5 minutes looking at that pot from my doorstep and I am quite positive that my at home neighbors are hearing all of this happening. As the search online turned up no quick results I call (music, please) Alyssa! Alyssa to the rescue. She is a coworker and very thankfully lives just across the way. I call her, try to explain the situation as I am laughing not because it was funny but because there was a pot, my pot in the middle of the hill. 

She comes over and after we had a good laugh and she reassured me that the pot wasn't going to explode in my face, but just in case, I went out to battle like this: 

Lol, need I say more. Everything's fine and because my apartment has to continue airing out I'm currently on Alyssa's couch blogging about my transition back to the US. Yes, Lord help me.