You can't afford college, so you move to America, yeah not your brightest move.

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AN:  Edited for grammar.

Phil was moving to America. He'd lived in England his entire life. Now, he was leaving. It wouldn't be forever, just for a couple of years, but still. He'd miss it here. He'd miss his parents even more, though.

Phil was moving to America because apparently, they needed a lot of elevators there. People were complaining about it in hordes. Since Phil was an elevator technician there would be plenty of job opportunities. Then, when he made enough, Phil would move back to London and quit being an elevator technician. He'd go to college, instead.

Phil might've been just eighteen, but he had this planned out to the littlest detail for years. He'd known that with his parents struggling to make ends meet, his family wouldn't be able to send him to college. Most kids would have tried for a scholarship or worked at a minimum wage job for a few years.

Phil had a better idea, though. Extensive research had shown that there were some jobs you could get without any college degrees. It would be better to study for one of those, instead. He'd be able to support himself, possibly help support his family, and save up money so he could get his college degree and hopefully get his dream job.

One relatively high paying job that didn't require a degree other than graduating highschool was being an elevator technician. That was why Phil was becoming one. Also, there was a good amount of growth in the elevator technician industry. Not as much as the wind turbine installers, but people always needed their elevators inspected or fixed.

Phil was not saying that being an elevator technician was an easy job. You couldn't mess up without the risk of causing an injury, or even a fatality. It was simply, as far as he knew, the job best suited to his particular financial and educational situation.

In Los Angeles, America, roughly 45% of elevators had an expired inspection date. There were only 15 people to inspect elevators, and the city had a frankly terrible way of doing so. The paperwork and digital systems were hodge-podge at best.

So, Phil figured, plenty of the elevators would either need to be fixed or otherwise maintained. L.A. was a very expensive place to live, so Phil made sure he had a job before he got there. He'd done his research and sent in his application.

In the meantime, Phil looked into getting a Visa and a passport. If everything worked out well, he'd be living in America in the not so distant future. For all he'd heard people complain, Phil got his Visa and passport without too much trouble.

When Phil heard back from the company he'd sent his resume to, it was good news. They'd accepted him. All he had to do now was get to America and start his job. So he bought an airplane ticket. Which brought him to his current location, an airport in London.

Phil's parents had been with him for the drive to the airport, and when he checked in his luggage. Now that he had to go through security, they couldn't go with him any further. Phil stepped up to his parents and gave them each a big hug. They exchanged tearful goodbyes and promises of many phone calls. They waved at him as he walked to the end of the line.

Once Phil got to the front of the line he handed the airport worker his ticket and I.D., then handed her his Visa and passport for good measure. They couldn't let anyone into airport security, after all. She tapped the screen of her machine a couple of times, confirming his identity, and then handed him back his means of identification as well as his ticket. Phil moved on, joining the line for putting his carry on backpack through the x-ray.

After reaching the conveyor belt Phil started pulling things out of his backpack. He'd mostly planned on sleeping through the ten and a half hour flight to L.A. because he would later be jet-lagged by the seven-hour difference in time zones. Just in case he was struck by a sudden bout of insomnia, he'd brought a few books along anyway. It usually, in some way, paid to be prepared.

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