My trip back began with “Good Mood Food”. (If you’re a television aficionado, then you understand the reference. If not, then you’re screwed. Unless you have Google. Then you might have a shot.) I couldn’t have been happier that this was the case, considering I had cried more in that week (in that day, even) than I had in about seven years. The problem, you see, is that my timing is ridiculously off. I guess we can reflect more on that later, though.
Back to my trip. I was about to head out to NYC. This was my second go-around, and a lot of my possessions were already in the apartment from the first stay, which had ended almost two months prior to this “Good Mood Food” moment. Going back to NYC for another unpaid internship was wearing on my penny-pincher of a soul, and this go-around was really making me quite unsure about the entire experience.
Cut to the airport. Dry eyes, like Clear Eyes. Not a single tear was shed. Probably because I didn’t have any left (moment of silence to cry for me), but it actually felt good to leave again, knowing my family was behind me full force. This was proven even more so with the barrage of text messages, and the note my sister gave me to read on the airplane. I thought I would cry when reading it, so I waited until my layover in Chicago. The money inside the card dissuaded me from crying, because we all know how amazing I am at accepting gifts (Unless you don’t know. In which case, let me make this clear: I don’t accept gifts well.). Thanks, Erin.
If you are familiar with my family, then you understand what a close-knit party of five we are. Yes, we have probably fought in front of you (or your child) and yes, there was probably a time or two that you witnessed the silent treatment between us (or my mean mug) but, alas, we are probably one of the closest families that I can think of. And that makes me one of the luckiest girls on the planet.
Mom, I hope you’re reading this.
Well, I got to La Guardia safe and sound. No heads fell onto my shoulder mid-sleep on the flight. No tiny child that could hardly be regarded as a real person kicked my seat or screamed in my ears. No military personnel or international felon tried to strike up dry conversation with me, followed by an unleashing of their life stories (this-and worse-has actually happened to me and the stories are available upon request). Nope, this time everything went smoothly and I landed in Queens like a pro.
I landed early. An entire hour early.
So my roommate, who had called a black car to pick her up at the apartment so she could meet me at the airport, was not at the airport to see me. And my dear ex-coworker (and friend), Alex, was still buses away from the terminal. Which was all fine and dandy. Jess ended up re-routing the car to pick Alex and I up from the airport. The only hitch that really occurred was that I got one bag off the baggage claim safe and sound first thing, and it wasn’t until the conveyer belt had stopped and everyone had bailed (except a poor, forlorn college-looking student with a beautiful nose) that I realized someone had actually taken my second bag off the belt and set it down on the ground some time before. It had been obstructed by a pole! Oh, the inhumanity of it all!
I made it outside swiftly this time (no bags fell and I surely did not topple) and waited for my dear Alex to meet me. The driver got a bit impatient and called my phone and my roommate’s incessantly (Dial 7 is an amazing car service, but they’re a bit temperamental), but I made sure to tip well (thank you, mom!).
Once we got back to the apartment, we were greeted by my amazing roommate (Jess, as she will forevermore be referred to as) and shortly discovered that my inconsistencies in packing had left a shampoo bottle without a plastic bag, and shampoo all over the inside (and outside) of my food suitcase (Yes, I did pack an entire suitcase full of food. If you have moved to New York from the midwest, you surely understand my sentiment.). Nothing was harmed, but the intense fragrance of the shampoo has not worn, and gives me occasional headaches (WHAT?! A GOOD scent in New York?! What is this girl complaining about?!).
We ate, we drank, and were merry at Jackson Hole. Then, we came back and my second roommate (MICHAEL! My dear MICHAEL!) had his friend Brandon over. So, of course, alcohol was concocted into strong mixtures and consumed by the masses (our East Coast party of five).
After Alex bid us farewell, I finished unpacking (thanks again for the ability to plug my nose without holding it, Parentals 1 & 2), spread my sheets out over my couch (I slept on hardwood floor for five and a half months, so this couch is a step up, my dear children), and dropped.