I was surprisingly composed at the airport, only sobbing until I got through security - which I have found makes the TSA agents a tad more lenient with the lipglosses that I always forget to stick into a plastic bag with my other travel-sized liquids and gels.
My trip home was everything I dreamed it would be and more, and I am already sad that last week this time I was making dinner and then heading to meet my best friend for ice cream.
When I finally got to Cleveland airport at 3am Saturday morning, I got to live my longtime airport fantasy of coming out of the terminal and running into the arms of my boyfriend who was wearing a 3 piece tailored suit and a grin. And when I got home, salted carmel ice cream was waiting for me. Talk about heaven.
My trip kicked off the next morning with a wedding - and a Jewish wedding at that.
I am as Christian as they come, but when I get married one day no one and no thing will stop me from having a gorgeous chuppah, stomping on a glass and yelling mazel tov, and doing that fun dance with the chairs. I love weddings, and in particular Jewish weddings. I even managed to drag Mr. Jay onto the dance floor to spin me around for awhile to my favorite oldies by bribing him with my piece of cake.
Sunday afternoon I celebrated the Jubilee with a English Garden Party at my parents house. I brought home some silly Jubilee decorations, the highlight of which was the Queen masks that look positively hiliarious on everyone.
I made homely british food like sausage rolls and Eton Mess, and my mum made Shepherd's Pie and talked in an English accent all night, despite my begging.
The rest of the week was spent suntanning in anarondeck chairs on my porch, catching up with my best friend from high school, and nightly trips to my favorite ice cream place in the world to indulge in scoops of Banana Cream Pie and Chocolate Peanut Butter Brownie. I bopped around all week in my mom's new, white Jeep Wrangler - the car I wanted ever since I saw Clueless in the 3rd grade, because I wanted to be like Cher Horowitz.
To finally live this dream was beyond thrilling. I always forget how much I love to drive - although it is probably best for everyone that I don't, because I am not much better at driving then Cher was.
I tried to convince my parents to take the doors off along with the roof, but that was deemed too dangerous.
To that I replied, "Whatever"
I hadn't baked in 7 months and it was wonderful. I get a high whipping up a batch of buttercream.
I did a lot of other American things, like grilling hotdogs and burgers and corn on the cob, sipping an Arnold Palmer on the dock with my pink painted toes dipping in the lake, squeezing lemons in my hair for ultimate blondeness and tanning oil on my body for ultimate browness depsite the dangers of both, having a dance party to Beach Boy's music after dinner with my mom. I was so happy to be back in America - and so happy to be in my home! It was so nice to be surrounded by Americans, speaking American English, flying American flags! I nearly bought Forth of July decorations to bring back and decorate my bedroom with.
Just when I thought I was starting to genuinely like London, I came home and realized how crap it really is....bullocks.
A (possibly very wise) friend that I was talking to about my eagerness to get home, said to me something interesting to the tune of "I think there's only so much you can spend over there, because it's not how you grew up" - and I couldn't help but wonder if that is the problem.
I've always thought of myself as quite adaptive. I went from small town Ohio to the center of Manhattan and was adjusted overnight. When I swapped New York for Paris, it took a matter of hours until I was parle-ing francais with the locals and mange-ing on crepes while I cruised the ville on my velib.
So out of pure spite, once the stewardess has left to bother someone else, I push my bag an inch back out and unbuckle my seatbelt. I also keep my laptop in my lap covered with the pillow they give you. This technique surprisingly always works, and I get weird pleasure out of being passed with an approving nod while others around me and told, "you need to power off your Ipad sir and store it in the seatback pocket. I am aware that I am becoming a lunatic - I'm just not sure how to make it stop.
This particular trip, as I settled into 33E and went to store my copy of Budget Travel in the seatback pocket, I discovered a child's diaper already inhabiting the space. Thankfully unused. As I pulled it out, I also realized my personal tv screen was playing The Wiggles and I didn't know how to make it stop. The friendly English bloke in 33D laughed along with me and said "it's like your seat is programmed for someone aged 2".
This made me laugh, but the sound of an English accent pained me. Oh how horrible it is to be back in England, back to work, back to dreadful weather. This is the first summer that I do not have to do what I want with. To travel and spend time at home, to go to drive in movies and late night boat rides on warm summer nights. To dress my dog Lucie up in her bikini despite her protests and force her to go for a swim. It is really, really sad when adulthood sinks in, and I am ever so yearning to be the 18-year old, carefree version of myself again.
When I was young and living at home, I had such big city dreams. I wanted to live in the middle of it all in a polly-pocket sized apartment, and travel, and be independent and explore. I'm glad I wanted that, because at 23 I've lived in New York, Paris, and London and while I haven't traveled nearly as much as I'd like - my passport is already almost out of areas to stamp. I've seen a lot, and learned a lot and done things I always dreamed of doing. I love what I have done with my life so far, but I also love that after living in 3 of the top cities in the world, and traveling to many more of them, that I still find my home to be one of the most wonderful places I've been. There is a comfort and a feeling I have when I am there that I don't get anywhere else, but maybe it is because, as my friend said, that's how I grew up - and I when I think back on those first 18 years of my life in Ohio they were nothing short of wonderful.
I am as Christian as they come, but when I get married one day no one and no thing will stop me from having a gorgeous chuppah, stomping on a glass and yelling mazel tov, and doing that fun dance with the chairs. I love weddings, and in particular Jewish weddings. I even managed to drag Mr. Jay onto the dance floor to spin me around for awhile to my favorite oldies by bribing him with my piece of cake.
Sunday afternoon I celebrated the Jubilee with a English Garden Party at my parents house. I brought home some silly Jubilee decorations, the highlight of which was the Queen masks that look positively hiliarious on everyone.
 |
| me and mum |
 |
| Josh |
 |
| mum |
To finally live this dream was beyond thrilling. I always forget how much I love to drive - although it is probably best for everyone that I don't, because I am not much better at driving then Cher was.
I tried to convince my parents to take the doors off along with the roof, but that was deemed too dangerous.
To that I replied, "Whatever"
 |
| "Did I show you the loqued-out Jeep daddy got me? It's got four wheel drive, dual side airbags and monster sound system. I don't have my license yet, but I need something to learn on." |
 |
| Doing my best imitation |
I also got back in touch with my former Betty-Crocker self and made my mom a 64th birthday cake in the form of an enormous cupcake that matched the decor of our house (and her entire wardrobe). White, blue, silver, and sparkles.
I hadn't baked in 7 months and it was wonderful. I get a high whipping up a batch of buttercream.
 |
| It tasted as magical as it looks. |
Just when I thought I was starting to genuinely like London, I came home and realized how crap it really is....bullocks.
A (possibly very wise) friend that I was talking to about my eagerness to get home, said to me something interesting to the tune of "I think there's only so much you can spend over there, because it's not how you grew up" - and I couldn't help but wonder if that is the problem.
I've always thought of myself as quite adaptive. I went from small town Ohio to the center of Manhattan and was adjusted overnight. When I swapped New York for Paris, it took a matter of hours until I was parle-ing francais with the locals and mange-ing on crepes while I cruised the ville on my velib.
So why has it been so hard for me to adjust in London? The conclusion I've found is I that New York and Paris were apart (sort of) how I grew up. I knew New York in and out before I got there and Paris was apart of me since I started taking French lessons at age 10 and become a full fledged francophile.
But London was uncharted territory. And because I am a romantic - I had visions of falling in love with the red telephone booths and cornish pastys at first sight. But it just isn't so.
I found instead that possibly what I love most about London is how easy it is to leave it for somewhere better. Like Paris, or Edinburgh, or Munich. A short and typically pretty cheap flight from Heathrow can take you to places far more interesting for a "wee - kend," as they say. And so one of the things I've enjoyed most about London is escaping it frequently. And this most recent escape back to Ohio was especially hard to return from.
But, I am looking forward to an end of weekly jet setting, because I have truly come to hate flying and everything associated with it.. Now that I am a seasoned flyer, I find a have developed certain neurosis when on board and fear I am becoming quite the weirdo.
The largest being my complete disdain for pre-take off announcements and unexplainable need to scoff at them . I don't want to hear the pilot mumbling about our estimated flight time, probability of hitting turblance, or what to do in the unlikely event of an accident, and I am not quiet about it. These annoucnements drone on and on, repeatedly disrupting whichever movie I have already started watching - which in today's case I'm not ashamed to say was "Mirror, Mirror."
But London was uncharted territory. And because I am a romantic - I had visions of falling in love with the red telephone booths and cornish pastys at first sight. But it just isn't so.
I found instead that possibly what I love most about London is how easy it is to leave it for somewhere better. Like Paris, or Edinburgh, or Munich. A short and typically pretty cheap flight from Heathrow can take you to places far more interesting for a "wee - kend," as they say. And so one of the things I've enjoyed most about London is escaping it frequently. And this most recent escape back to Ohio was especially hard to return from.
I go to the trouble of ordering a vegan meal, even though I never touch plane food. This is mainly precautionary in case I were, for some reason, absolutely starving and happened to have had my packed lunch confiscated by a TSA agent - I would have an in flight last resort option. I do this because I would never eat airmeat, and I have a theory that the "special diet meals" get more attention in the preparation phase and are less likely to be poisonous. So I order a vegan meal, and then usually pull a turkey and swiss sandwich out of my bag which rightfully alarms whoever is sitting next to me.
I also get inexplicably annoyed with the stewardess's check for baggage stored under the chair, upright seats and tray tables, and electronics turned off and find a need to spite them. I know it is their job, but I think they are overcautious and I cannot possibly fathom how my traytable could disrupt the entire flight. If my a thread of my handbag is sticking out from underneath the seat they will see it and obnoxiously say "mam, I'm gonna need you to push your bag all the way under the seat, okay?" And what's worse is that they stand there watching until I do it like I am not trustworthy (which actually I am not because if they left I wouldn't do it).
This particular trip, as I settled into 33E and went to store my copy of Budget Travel in the seatback pocket, I discovered a child's diaper already inhabiting the space. Thankfully unused. As I pulled it out, I also realized my personal tv screen was playing The Wiggles and I didn't know how to make it stop. The friendly English bloke in 33D laughed along with me and said "it's like your seat is programmed for someone aged 2".
This made me laugh, but the sound of an English accent pained me. Oh how horrible it is to be back in England, back to work, back to dreadful weather. This is the first summer that I do not have to do what I want with. To travel and spend time at home, to go to drive in movies and late night boat rides on warm summer nights. To dress my dog Lucie up in her bikini despite her protests and force her to go for a swim. It is really, really sad when adulthood sinks in, and I am ever so yearning to be the 18-year old, carefree version of myself again.
When I was young and living at home, I had such big city dreams. I wanted to live in the middle of it all in a polly-pocket sized apartment, and travel, and be independent and explore. I'm glad I wanted that, because at 23 I've lived in New York, Paris, and London and while I haven't traveled nearly as much as I'd like - my passport is already almost out of areas to stamp. I've seen a lot, and learned a lot and done things I always dreamed of doing. I love what I have done with my life so far, but I also love that after living in 3 of the top cities in the world, and traveling to many more of them, that I still find my home to be one of the most wonderful places I've been. There is a comfort and a feeling I have when I am there that I don't get anywhere else, but maybe it is because, as my friend said, that's how I grew up - and I when I think back on those first 18 years of my life in Ohio they were nothing short of wonderful.
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