** 23 hours later**

I WON'T PANIC. Whatever I do, I won't panic. I WON'T panic.

Maybe if I keep saying that a hundred times more I will actually start listening to myself and release the armrest of my airplane seat – I'm pretty sure the man who is sitting next to me wants to rest his arm (is not like he is being subtle about it, he is shooting me this strange looks while mumbling 'tsk tsk' at my direction).

I mean, airplanes are a very safe form of transportation. Some affirm it is the safest. And I'm certain that I heard somewhere that the real odds of being in a plane crash it is one in nineteen million per person.

So, clearly this plan won't crash.

No, no. It will land safe and sound in Seoul with all its parts and all the passengers and all the baggage, specially my two suitcases – mainly the one that is filled to the brim with my shoes. If the plane did crash (which it won't) I would have to find a way to get to them.

No way would I let my little darling shoes be destroyed.

But since this plane is in ideal working order – I know this because I asked the company employee at my check in and the flight attendant just to be sure – it won't crash, so my precious shoes will be perfectly safe.

But maybe I should hold onto my most cherished ones. Mainly my red Louboutin pumps. I need those. I live for those shoes. No way after saving for one year to buy it (actually now that I think about it, that was the reason that I wasn't able to buy Miguel's gift, but then after the stunt he pulled he didn't deserve it anyway, so I shouldn't feel guilty) can they get lost on a plane crash.

Hum.

I wonder if there is a way to sneak to the place they keep the luggage on and look for them. If I can just get through my good friend the flight attendant it might be possible.

I turn my head from side to side trying to spot her. She is giving a pillow to a disgruntled kid near the front door of the plane. And she is not looking my way.

Lucky.

Now if I can just go to the back of the plane unnoticed everything is going to be fine. I'm sure there is a door to the luggage area there somewhere.

I release the arm rest. The man at my side is so happy he lunges for it and put his big fat limb on it. I don't think that I will be able to rest my arm again for the remaining period of this trip. Oh, well I had it for the last 23 hours – he can have it for the next two.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and I'm almost up when I feel the entire plane dip to one side.

Oh. My. God.

Did the plane just turned sideways?

It did. It totally did.

I can't believe that I'm that one person in nineteen million who will be in a plane crash. I have such rotten luck. I don't even care that my seat neighbor is using the armrest. I grab it strongly. I might even have hurt his arm. He winces.

I worry for a moment about it and then decide that I have more important things to concern myself with at this time - but promise to make certain to apologize later, if I'm still alive.

That is it. I will die here at a place so far away from Brazil and still two hours from Korea. In this terrible piece of metal that has no business being so far from the ground.

At least dad will know that I died while searching for his flawless Korean son-in-law (sort of).

And my poor Louboutin and all my other shoes will be ruined in a mountain of fire and devastation. Such a waste. I never even wore them. My eyes are prickling with tears.

Do I even have time to write a letter to my parents? How will they know about my last moments on this Earth? I contemplate the thought of searching my purse for pen and paper, or even my cellphone, but if I let go of the armrest I will scream.

Poor Louboutin.

Poor me.

I will die and never dance again. Never have any children. Never…

Oh, it is my pal the flight attendant. She is inquiring about what the man at my side needs her for. He nods his head at me and frowns. She gathers the situation in a quick look and throws a strained smile at me. I can see she is preparing to tell me off.

Really?

You called her so you could complain about me? What are you, two years old? Couldn't we solve this little armrest problem between ourselves? How could you attach yourself to such a petty matter when we are on our way to total annihilation?

I glare at him, but he is too busy staring out at the window.

Coward.

My dear flight attendant buddy clears her throat, "Mam, there is no need to be alarmed. As I already told you twice this airplane won't crash. All its machinery is in perfect working order." She smiles at me and gently pries my clutching fingers from my neighbor's jacket.

I had not noticed that I was grabbing onto that. He massages his arm.

Oh, that is why he was so mad.

Now I am totally ashamed. I can feel my face redden. I give a weak smile to her and to the man, but he barely glances at me.

"Now", she clucks just like a kindergarten teacher, "why don't you take some medicine? We have some for situations like this. It will make you feel better."

I am completely red now. She thinks I am crazy. The poor man probably thinks so too. I guess now is not a good time to mention my concerns about the safety of my Louboutin.

"No, I have medicine of my own." I say smiling at her and at the man, trying to show that I definitely am not cracked on the head.

She grins while motioning for me to get it. I consider explaining to her that I already took some a couple hours ago, and who knows what will happen if I take another dose so soon, but between her beaming countenance and the reproachful stare of my neighbor, I feel trapped.

So I take the medicine.

She thanks me and goes on her merry way. My neighbor ignores me, but refuses to give up his ownership of the armrest. I buckle my seatbelt once more and try to sleep. I'm feeling very, very calm.

I wonder if I will suffer from any side effects from taking two doses of the anxiety drug.

Oh, well.

At least I will go straight to uncle's home from the airport, so really, in how much trouble could I possibly get?

Where is she?

I'm absolutely positive that her message said for me to wait her on the south exit of the airport with my luggage. So here I am with my two huge suitcases standing on the sidewalk and guess what?

She isn't here and she isn't answering her phone.

Dad was so wrong about Korean people always being polite.

I almost want to shake my finger at him and smirk, 'See, if it was in Brazil and someone from another country was coming for the first time we would be there at least two hours earlier so she wouldn't be by herself even for a minute! But no, this is Korea, so my cousin thinks it is all right to let me standing here alone for 40 minutes on the freezing cold!'

Okay, so maybe is not that cold. I am trembling for sure, but everyone else is wearing tank tops and short skirts. I suppose you can't really compare what I-raised-in-the-Amazon-Region understand as cold weather to what these people think about it.

But it has been 40 minutes.

My feet are killing me.

As soon as we landed I took my red Louboutin from my suitcase and slipped them in. I wasn't going to die without ever wearing them. Of course I didn't know then that I would be forced to stand for over thirty minutes on these blasted high heels.

So this is what my life has come to – staying in a sidewalk while waiting for a no-show cousin, drained from a 25 hour flight and two doses of medicine with two enormous bags and wearing red pumps that would be better suited to a gala party. People are looking at me funny, although that may be because I keep shifting my weight from foot to foot and huffing every five minutes.

I might need more drugs.

I will kill her! I know it is not good manners to murder the daughter of the people who offered to take you in, but I will just wring her little neck and have the deed done with.

Humpf.

Maybe I should just go to her house. I mean I do have the address and I'm guessing that my Korean is not that bad. I'm certain I will manage to get in a taxi or bus and find her home.

Sort of.

Who am I kidding? My Korean is crap. She has forgotten about me and now I will be forced to stand on this sidewalk forever in these freaking shoes. I will probably lose my legs from the pain. I will have to be in a wheelchair and, let's face it, finding a husband then won't be nearly as easy, be him Brazilian or Korean.

I'm lost, I'm completely and utterly…

Oh, wait. There is she.

Finally.

I gather my belongings while she is running in my direction. Jae In is just like her pictures. Long legs and even longer hair, some freckles (I didn't even know Asian people could have freckles) and a somewhat large nose for her face. Strangely she is wearing only blue, from her tiara to her shoes – which is kind of weird, but then I'm wearing gala shoes at nine o'clock in the morning, so who am I to judge?

I'm sucking air, getting ready for giving her the scolding of lifetime but I don't have time. She grabs my hand and one of my bags and starts to run back the way she came. I'm forced to seize my other bag and run next to her.

I try to tell her that I have high heels on so I really could not be expected to run anywhere, when she begins speaking loudly between puffs, "I'm so sorry for being late! But you will understand when I tell you why. I received the most brilliant news."

She stops so suddenly to smile at me that I nearly trip. I clutch her for balance – these shoes were definitely not made for running!

"Really it was such amazing news! So, I was coming over, truly I was, when Bo Ra sent me this message that they were very nearby and begging me to get her. So I had to go, of course I had, she has been my best friend since, like, forever and I would not go to see them by myself and keep her out of it. Don't you think that I did the absolutely right thing, Hyosung?"

I blink at her.

What is she talking about? I can't understand a thing!

I knew my Korean was crap.

I try to think of something to answer and then just decide that I will rebuke her now when she grabs me and throws me in a cab. I hadn't even noticed that while she was spurting nonsense without breathing the taxi driver had put my bags on the car and was ushering us to the back seat.

Jae In pushes me in and closes the door. It is a pity that I trip and end up on another girl's lap.

"Oh my God, what are you doing?" Jae In laughs at me and helps me sit straight. "This is Bo Ra, the friend I was talking about. Bo Ra this is my Brazilian cousin Alice, but you can call her Hyosung. Isn't she just like I described her?"

"She is! You are so pretty, Hyosung. When you sat at my lap I could tell you have a large rack! I'm so envious! I wish I had boobs like yours!" Bo Ra pushes her breast out and joins Jae In in giggling like a bunch of flustered hens.

They are crazy.

I have to get out of here. Forget the luggage, I have my Louboutins on. The rest of my shoes will have to become sad casualties of my run in with my disturbed cousin.

Without her noticing I try to go past Jae In to get to the door, but she is blocking it thoroughly. I may have to go through Bo Ra. At least I know she has smaller boobs than I. At these circumstances I will get any advantage that I can.

Bloody hell. The car is moving. There is no way for me to escape. I'm stuck with Crazy One and Crazy Two. What I'm supposed to do? They are still chatting loudly and non-stop. I might have to…

Wait.

Isn't the car going a bit too fast? This is not normal. I'm jammed into the seat while people on the street run for their lives. I'm wary to interrupt Jae In, who is now jumping on her seat with Bo Ra and singing some weird song that uses the word 'sorry' an absurd amount of times, but I can't control myself.

"Isn't the car going a bit fast?" I scream to be heard over their ruckus, but Jae In doesn't seem to understand my sense of urgency, since she keeps singing louder now, probably to block my shouts. "Jae In, tell the driver to go slower!"

Jae In looks at me as if I had lost my marbles.

"He can't go slower. We will never be able to get to them in time if we go slower! Besides we are almost there! See that building? They are having a photo shoot in there right now!" she quips and points to a big building all made of glass.

Bo Ra agrees quickly with her head, "And I have on good authority that is a swimsuit shoot!"

Jae In and Bo Ra scream to high heavens.

"Stop, please stop." I use my hands to shut their mouths while I try to understand what they just said. I'm beginning to think that is not my Korean that is bad, is just that they are talking shit. "Who are they? Who are you guys so anxious to see?"

I have to endure some more screaming before Jae In gives me a response, "The Super Junior, of course."

The Super who?

"Who?" I ask because they can't really expect for that to make any kind of sense to me.

They look at me as if I am an alien. A dumb alien at that. Even the taxi driver is looking at me funny. Okay, now I'm getting pissed. Who are the Super-something?

Perhaps Jae In sees something in my eye, because she starts talking while the taxi slows. We are approaching the building. "They are just the BEST band ever! You will love them! Just love them, really there is no one that could not love them! And you kind of have to since it would be a total disgrace if the cousin of their Seoul fan club's vice president didn't!"

She keeps her babbling while Bo Ra gives her input from time to time but I have stopped listening.

A BAND?

All of this because of a BAND?

What the Fuck?

Now I am mad. I'm extremely mad. I may just rip all of Jae In and Bo Ra's hair from their pretty empty heads. How can they do this to me? HOW?

I'm dangerous. I'm on very strong medication and I'm sure that not one jury in this world would condemn me at a court of Law. I'm sorely tempted to crash their heads with my Louboutin (at this point I'm even considering ruining them if it would shut them up and avenge my anger) when the taxi stops.

Apparently we arrived to the Oh-so-important place where the Super-something-or-other are having their shoot in swim wear. I hope they drown. I look out at the window. If I thought only my cousin was crazy enough to actually follow her favorite band to their shooting I was mistaken.

There are about twenty girls, all dressed in blue, screaming on the entrance of the building. Some bodyguards are trying to keep them out, but they seem more scared of the girls than the other way around.

Crazy Koreans.

If I wasn't drugged, tired and in pain I would have laughed. But as I am now, I am very, very pissed. I turn to Jae In to let her know exactly what I think about her mad notion that I would be happy to yell with a bunch of crazy girls at a band that I never heard of, but again I was too late.

Damn these girls are fast.

They left me here with the cab driver. Does Jae In expect me to pay? Will I have to spend my hard-earned money in her stupid quest? But to my surprise the cab driver informs me that he has an arrangement with Jae In so I should just take my bags and wait for her.

And I found myself in the middle of the sidewalk – again – with two huge suitcases – again – and wearing my Louboutin, again. At least now I know that I am not utterly lost.

There is a small coffee shop in front of me, so I pull my heavy bags and, almost tripping, start to walk in its direction.

I feel a little dizzy.

It might be all the drugs on my system.

I'm actually quite glad I'm not my normal self – God knows what I would have done to Jae In and Bo Ra if I hadn't taken that second dose of medicine. And then how would I get to Uncle Jae Haa's home?

So maybe it is for the best.

I get in the coffee shop and see that is quite crowded for such a tiny place at ten o'clock in the morning. For some reason there are mostly men here. When I come in all of them immediately snap their heads and stare at me. They scrutinize my clothes and then seem to decide I'm not that important and go back to their coffees.

Creepy.

I walk in the direction of a table near the door, dragging my bags until I finally drop myself on a chair. I grab the menu and try to read it when I realize that my Korean is so crappy that I can't understand a word that it says.

Great.

Now I will have to walk to the cashier and ask him to read the freaking menu out loud to me so that I can have a clue what kind of drinks this place sells. My feet are hurting so much I'm reconsidering my need for caffeine.

With a sigh I drop the menu and look around the place, stalling until my legs don't feel like they are being slowly amputated. There is nothing interesting to look at, just the absurd amount of guys close together and whispering to each other.

They are weird.

They are dressed all in black, with hoods and dark glasses and keep shutting suspicious glances at the coffee shop entrance door… Is almost as if they don't want to be recognized and are afraid of people who may enter this place…

Hold on just a minute.

Nine men, all dressed in dark colors, trying to become unrecognizable, worried about whom comes through the door…

Fuck me sideways.

Robbers.

They have to be - there is no other explanation. It makes sense now why they acted so odd when I came in; they were worried that it could be the police! They are probably the Yakuza!

(Okay, maybe the yakuza live in Japan, but is this the moment to nitpick?)

The Korean-like-Yakuza is in the same coffee shop as me, clearly planning their next criminal movement (otherwise what they would be whispering about with so much concentration?) and there is no one to stop them.

The cashier – really the only person who would be able to help me - is looking mighty bored on his stall. I try desperately to catch his eye but he keeps playing with his cellphone.

I'm shaking.

Oh God, I survived the airplane ride just to die in a stingy coffee shop, with a geek cashier who is more concerned with his little game them with the very suspicious looking men sitting at his left!

They will kill me! And there are so many ways to do it, too (anyone who watched Saw can attest to that).

(It occurs to me that it wasn't such a good idea watching all these horror movies during my lifetime, but who would have thought that one day I would be the girl that the scary people would cut to pieces?)

I think I might faint.

With a deep breath I regain some control. I can't faint! God knows what they would do to me if I did. I have to save myself – the cashier certainly won't to do it. I will probably even have to save him, too!

Okay, I need a plan ASAP.

They are obviously distracted. I will use it on my favor. I will slowly stand up and walk out of here. When I am outside I will look for the nearest police officer and ask for help. Yes, that is exactly what I'm going to do.

I look sadly at my bags. It is quite possible that all my shoes will be lost after this. Well, they had a good run. And my Louboutin are safe and sound in my feet.

I stand up and sneak a quick glance at the creepy guys' table. They haven't noticed me.

Good.

As I slowly walk backwards to the door – they didn't seem all that interested in me when I came in, but there is no way I will give them a reason to be now by running like a mad chicken – I realize that two of them are missing.

There were nine of them in that table, now there are seven.

Where did they go?

I urgently look for them around the coffee shop. They are nowhere in sight. They probably went to find some more backups – although nine men seem more than enough to rob a small coffee shop as this. But what do I know? Maybe the cashier is a secret ninja or something.

Or maybe there is something really special about this place… Possibly this entire coffee shop is a drug selling point.

If that is true, I'm so dead.

It's time to run.

I turn my body in the direction of the door and start to make a run for it, but I didn't count on:

My feet hurting so much! Truthfully, in my hour of need I had quite forgotten about the unlimited agony in my legs;

Finally founding out where one of the missing robbers had gone. He was right at my back, having deciding for some unexplainable reason that he would like a can of coke before their evil master plan could come to fruition;

And lastly,

Tripping directly in the strong arms of the robber, who dropped his coke all over my shirt and appeared to be quite startled at my sudden appearance in his embrace.

OMG.

He is holding me quite tight, which is good because I would probably fall otherwise. I notice is tall for an Asian and quite muscled. His hug is to die for. He has quite robbed of my breath.

We blink at each other for a moment. Both too much in shock to do something about our current position – me because of my crippling pain (okay, I might have melted a little in his arms as well) and him because… To say the truth, I don't really know why he is not moving.

Not that I'm complaining. I mean how many times can one person find herself in the arms of such a man? I might as well enjoy it while I can.

And it is just what I'm doing when a ruckus at my back makes me open my eyes in a snap (I hadn't even realized I had closed them). It is the other men, who are now laughing at us and making fun of my strong-muscled-tall-hot-robber.

At their uproar it all comes back to me in a flash.

The robbers.

My plan of slipping away unnoticed to ask for help.

(That part of the plan has obviously gone terribly wrong.)

And I notice something else. The hand of Mr. Robber is at my left breast. He follows my eyes and quickly moves his hand away, but it is too late.

Screw my plan. The part where they take advantage of my body to then cut into pieces has begun - it is a good time to scream.

So that is precisely what I do.

"HELP!", really I'm quite proud of myself. I don't think I ever shrieked that loud in all my life, "POLICE! THERE ARE THIEFS HERE! AND ONE OF THEM IS A PERV! HELP!"

He drops me and I fall on the floor but keep on yelling. Sooner or later the crazy fans and the bodyguards on the other side of the street are bound to notice the noise. The hot thief is trying to shush me while throwing concerned glances at the others, who are all in a circle around me, quite at lost about what to do.

The other missing robber comes running through a door, holding his pants up and looking frantic. He was probably taking his pants off to take advantage of me later on. I scream even louder. Did they really think I would go down without a fight?

I'm very dizzy now - all this yelling is not helping with my drug issue. But I can't worry about this at this moment. I have to keep it going until someone notices it.

Thank heaven.

The blue-deranged girls spotted us. They are pointing at us, screaming and running in our direction. The evil men seem properly scared of them, too. They should be. The girls are probably calling the police right about now.

I give a satisfied last scream, but not one of them is looking at me. They are all staring at the gaggle of girls running like mad, coming their way.

They appear terrified.

Good.

I try to sneak out through their legs but the dizziness attacks again.

I manage to crawl some inches before I admit to myself that I may have to use drastic measures to get out of their middle, especially since I'm kind of sick at this moment.

While they are distracted I twist and grab one of my Louboutin. I kiss it goodbye and struck its heel on one of the robbers. Unfortunately it hits the leg of the hot one. It is a shame to ruin such calves, but I am not in a situation that allows me to be choosy.

He swears and grasps his leg while glaring at me.

Uh-oh.

It might not have been my best idea because now they are all looking at me again. The pantless one seems really angry.

It is right at this moment that my vision stars fading and I faint.

But that is okay.

I'm hearing a lot of yelling.

The mad girls are here and they will save me from these Yakusa-wannabes.