When I was in the third grade in Alaska, I wanted to be a world famous cruise ship designer by day, and a taxi driver by night. I would lie in my bunk bed drawing elaborate floor plans for imaginary cruise ships. Cruise ships with three-story libraries in them. Cruise ships with large chimney standpipes à la Titanic, and cruise ships with large riverboat paddle wheels on the back. On nights I was feeling extra ambitious, I’d craft up a Frankenship with both chimney standpipes and paddle wheels, practicality be damned.
And I thought that by now, surely, taxi cabs would be able to fly.
But here I am, turning 29 this month, a graphic designer by trade. I no longer live in Alaska; I now call the Philippines my home. So what happened?
In cruise ship parlance, it’s called…
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