It's autumn. Everyone wants to go to America. I'm not even thinking about it. My summer isn't over yet, and let everything else go to hell. What kind of Work and Travel is that anyway?! What is it and what's the deal with it?!...

I went to the agency for company, listened for company, and took a brochure for company. On the way home, I decided I was going. But my parents?! That's a bit of a problem, of course... I walked into the apartment, sat on the ottoman, and shouted: "Out with the snacks, hello parents! I want to go to America." Then came the talks, discussions, and all that jazz. I didn't even have to persuade them; their only requirement was to behave myself and not get into trouble, because my safety is what matters most. That's how amazing my parents are. I love them.

That's how unexpectedly I changed my life. The gossip, speculation, and all that demagoguery about "the taste of a pineapple that no one has ever tried" began. I remember a phrase from a guy, now my ex: "Why go there? You can sell ice cream here too..." During the day, such conclusions killed me, and in the evening I surfed the Internet in search of the truth. By the way, I wasn't the only one: my classmate Dimka (Dimasssiiik to me) and two guys from parallel groups, Sashka and Denis, will be conquering such a mysterious and still incomprehensible America with me (or I with them, it doesn't matter). And generally, I was thinking about the J-1 Visa... But that's another story))