On Friday, I flew from Dallas to New Orleans to spend a week with my son, his mother and a few family members.
The trip was one of the few times I’ve visited the U.S. since the plane crash in October that killed more than 200 people.
My son, a U.T. grad from Austin, Texas, was a freshman at UT-Austin, and I was his first official visit to the U, my hometown.
I had always wanted to go to the United States, but it was a big risk.
My flight landed in Dallas, and it was supposed to take about 30 minutes.
Then I got a text saying my flight had been canceled.
I called the airline, which sent me to the nearest airport, in Austin.
There, I met up with my family.
I went into a little room with the two men in the back.
I told them I had been in Texas all weekend and wanted to see the country.
They said, “No, you don’t need to go.”
They wanted to stay with me.
When I showed them the United Kingdom, they were so surprised, they said, Oh my God!
So I took them on a tour of the Uptown area of the city, which includes some of the country’s best shopping and dining.
The next morning, I drove down to the airport.
I was about to get a boarding pass when I got the phone call from the airline.
It said my flight was canceled.
The pilot, a man in his 40s, had just taken off for the United Arab Emirates.
The plane was going to make an emergency landing, but there were people on the ground and it wasn’t a major incident.
The first thing I did was call my family and say, Where are you going?
They told me to meet them in the airport, but they didn’t know where.
So I was driving back to Austin.
About 45 minutes later, I got an email saying my plane had crashed.
It was a total loss, but I thought, This is going to be a good experience.
I got my ticket and my luggage, and then I went back to the car.
When we got back to my house, I put my luggage on the back seat, got out of the car and started driving to the crash site.
It wasn’t until I got there that I realized how serious this was.
The front door was on the floor.
The car had collapsed on top of my wife and three children, and the roof had collapsed onto them.
The window on the passenger side of the van was broken.
The roof had been ripped off.
There were no survivors.
As we drove down, I tried to drive down the street and talk to people, but the road was blocked.
I tried using Google Maps to find a spot to turn onto, but all the streets were closed.
It felt like the world was going upside down.
We drove until the whole street was empty.
I remember being on the side of a street with my wife, who was crying and in tears.
She said, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.
She didn’t think she could do anything.
She kept telling me, You have to go back.
It seemed like the most important thing in the world, but she had lost everything.
I said, If you want to see this country, you have to see it.
We got out and I told her that she had to come to Texas.
She looked at me and said, But I want to live here.
When she said that, I had tears in my eyes, and she just couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
She had been told by her doctor that she would be able to fly home in a couple of days, but now she was stuck in Texas.
I asked her, Why are you here?
She said she doesn’t want to go.
I don, too.
I want her to go home.
She told me, I love you.
It took me a couple days to finally get a ticket to go out and see my family again.
We flew back to Texas and drove to the Texas Medical Center in Dallas.
My family and I went straight to the emergency room, which was a lot of work for someone who has just lost a leg and two arms.
The doctor who treated me said he couldn’t handle it.
The trauma that I had experienced in Texas was a little overwhelming.
I thought about the people in the hospital in Austin, the people who were already there.
I think it was one thing to have my leg amputated, but what about the thousands of people who had lost their limbs?
When I saw my family, I hugged them and said I love them.
We started talking and talked.
We talked about my life, how I had grown up in a very dysfunctional household.
My mother died of cancer, and my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s.
I never really got to see my dad.
When he died, I was