I forced The Beard by pain of death to go to Gatsby this weekend on a double with Haley and her fiance Chris. He was less than thrilled. Who doesn't want to go to stuff they hate with someone who geeks out and dresses up for every occasion? Sounds pretty fun to me.
The Beard is a BIT of a contrarian. It's more extreme individualism. He's no robot. I am grateful for that. You like something? He hates it. If something is popular, it has to be garbage. It's not necessarily being a hipster. It's more that he just refuses to like/do/be things just because its expected.
He hates President Lincoln. If that tells you anything. Which it should.
He hated the book. "It's not a story! It's all this backstory and undeveloped characters and just because Fitzgerald writes amazing prose it's become this brainless classic!"
Therefore I guess he gets bonus points for sucking it up and going with me. I owe him like 100 hours of Red Sox baseball now.
I disagree with him, however. Even though I also dislike the story, for the most part. Terrible people doing terrible things. The only real moral of the story is that you will lose things if you live carelessly. But I still liked the book because of it's few redeeming qualities, listed hereafter. The story sticks with you. I'm still thinking about it, days after seeing the movie.
I liked the movie more than the book and here's why - the parts of the book I liked the best were better represented in the movie than in my head.
The parties. Doesn't this just make you want to wear something sparkly and dance? I couldn't have pictured this in my head. The movie did a great job.
Gatsby's plan and backstory. I love that they took the time to explain and show where he'd been.
The infatuation, however selfish and unrealistic, between Gatsby and Daisy. I literally trembled (hate that I just used that word) at one of the romantic parts. Embarrassing, right? And of course, the fashion. Goes without saying.
How can you not love it? The soundtrack has been on repeat since Saturday. I highly recommend it.
The Beard did say one thing that is 100% true.
"If at any point, ANY of the characters make the right decision, the book would have been over."
Gatsby is honest with Daisy about his upbringing/lack of wealth --> She either still loves him and commits or he realizes she's shallow and moves on. No book.
Gatsby is a hardworking, honest businessman --> He makes half as much money, accept reality, settles down with a nice women worth 20 Daisies. No book.
Tom is a good husband to Daisy --> She loves him, doesn't wonder about Gatsby, no one gets their nose broken, no one gets hit by a car. No book.
Wilson is a good husband to Myrtle --> She loves him, doesn't cheat, no one gets their nose broken, no one gets hit by a car, Wilson doesn't shoot Gatsby. No book.
Myrtle doesn't step out on Wilson --> No one gets their nose broken, no one gets hit by a car, no one gets shot dead out of miscommunication. No book.
Nick doesn't facilitate the rendezvous between Daisy and Gatsby --> They don't have a torrid secret affair spanning East and West Egg. No book.
Daisy stops the car, takes responsibility for the accident --> No one gets murdered. We all learn about consequences. No book.
Because that IS the book - every character making every wrong decision and getting few, if any, consequences for it. In the end it's an allegory, though. Gatsby dies symbolically - they'll all meet their due eventually with the Great Depression quick on their heels. Excess breeds a fall from grace. Carelessness breeds despair.
.... wickedness... never was.... happiness. Omg see what I did there? And if they'd just joined the Church, just think how much happier their lives would be???
No, this post isn't about another creepy BYU date. Sorry. Maybe I'll dish out a few more of those soon.
This is about the creepiest thing about me, Danica Anne.
Most of you probably know I'm a geek right? I own more Star Wars paraphernalia than your average citizen. The guy at Gold's Gym actually referred to me as "Star Wars Girl" on Monday because I'm always wearing a Star Wars shirt to the gym. I was flattered.
Many of you know that I like gore and violence - of the zombie flavor in particular. Walking Dead, World War Z, Quarantine, Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, etc.
But I have a love/obsession even worse than these. Definitely the creepiest thing about me.
Since high school I've been in love with the Thomas Harris "Hannibal" series. Yes, the one with the cannibal serial killer. The more popular movies (Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, Manhunter/Red Dragon/Hannibal Rising) were based on his amazing books - which I've read many times.(I own them all if anyone is interested in reading them with me?.. no? .... no one?)
Obviously I wouldn't say I LOVE the cannibalism. I could definitely live without it. That's not what I'm there for. I love the mystery and suspense, the crime drama, the psychological elements. I love the characterization and how Dr. Hannibal Lecter becomes almost a protagonist. I love the philosophical questions the books pose about what is "good" and the struggle to develop and follow a personal moral compass.
I love them. I love these books and movies. I love the story. I have an entire playlist dedicated to it. I've read a disgusting amount of fan fiction.
So I was beyond stoked to see that NBC has picked up a pilot season of the show Hannibal - about the relationship between Hannibal and famed detective Will Graham. This will fill the open space between the end of Hannibal Rising and the flashbacks in Red Dragon of Will catching Hannibal.
Here is the problem. The Beard is somehow morally opposed to violent films about cannibalism. He's adopted The Office, Star Wars, Harry Potter and even Star Trek. But he draws the line at Hannibal. I think it's pretty rude.
What I'm trying to say here is that the Beard needs a hobby that gets him out of the house for an hour or two each weeks so I can watch my creepy, morally objectionable TV show. Someone needs to start some sort of Fantasy Baseball Anonymous meetings or weekly Starcraft practice.
I'm also looking for best supporting actors in the role of Danica's Creepy Friend Who Watches Hannibal. And Maybe Reads the Books, Too.
I hope you're intrigued by that title. It's hard to believe, but it is actually relevant to my Saturday night.
On Friday one of my besties from high school - Mckensie crashed with me, and Gabi came over to hang with us. We stayed up late braiding our hair and watching puppy videos on YouTube like any other 14 year olds at a sleepover. We even played M.A.S.H. (no, we didn't.)
I slept in and read in bed until 1 pm like a really responsible adult. After breakfast and several Office episodes in my sweats The Beard talked me into showering and getting ready. (He bribed me with Target and the Library.)
Now comes the Hippie part. My bangs were not particularly cooperative. Plus Gabi had shown me a more effective way to fishtail braid my hair. The only option was this turban/bandana/wrap/headband that I originally bought to wear to Seven Peaks.
If you know me at all, you know I'm pretty much as far from a hippie as you can get. No one has and no one will ever describe my style as "Boho" or "Hippie Chic" because all of my clothes are fitted, black and not out of place at a funeral.
So it was kind of fun to wear an outfit my dad would call "hipster" and caused the Beard to look questioningly at my head. Gotta mix it up, you know?
After outfit photos and picking up my 6 items on hold at the awesome Draper Library, we were off to my second favorite weakness - Target. Those dollar bins are ALWAYS my kryptonite, but especially when they feature Star Wars items. Yahtzee.
Great day right? Going really well. Star Wars. Libraries. Outfit photos. Even a Sonic run.
Soon to be nearly ruined when I hit a deer on the way home. Now, I grew up in Mapleton so I've had my fair share of close shaves with deer. But I've never hit one. For once in my life I was not speeding, so we didn't hit him very hard. He got up and pranced away, and there was minimal damage to the plastic fender flare on my Jeep.
Traumatic damage to my emotional state, however. We're talking bawling and hyperventilating. I just felt so BAD. I didn't mean to hit you, little guy! I promise! I'm really sorry if you are bruised and sore! I hope your family took care of you and you warned all of them to stay off that winding, poorly lit road.
I'm sure the Beard was equal parts embarrassed and concerned about my reaction, but he was so good at remaining calm and reassuring. I'd have probably run into the woods to apologize to Bambi if he hadn't been there. He even took his crazy wife to the movies later to cheer her up.
Lesson Learned: if you dress like a hippie/gypsy while driving a gas guzzling SUV the universe will put you right back in your place.
Tomorrow is one of my favorite non-observed holidays - May the Fourth. As in May the Force Be With You. As in National Star Wars Day. I've loved Star Wars since my dad took me to see the re-release in the 90s. When I was in 9th grade the remastered editions came out on DVD and I watched them over and over and over.
**The "new" Star Wars, Episodes 1-3 are not real Star Wars. I am not going to be an obnoxious fan and freak out over them. I enjoyed them. The effects were cool and they were a lot of fun to watch. But they are not real Star Wars. You should not judge the Star Wars saga by the newer movies. Go see them in 3D though! Visually incredible!**
The title of this post is a misnomer. Star Wars is beloved by geeks, certainly, but was not created exclusively for them. There is a reason everyone recognizes the Imperial March. Everyone recognizes Chewie, Yoda, Han, Princess Leia and her buns. Every kid wants to play with light sabers. There's a reason this did so well, although having an adorable little kid helps.
Star Wars are arguably the best movies ever made. They were sci-fi, action, suspense, romance, comedy and drama. They blew everyone away with their stunning visuals and special effects - keep in mind A New Hope came out in 1977. 1977!
They are classics. Still watched. Still referenced. Still relevant. They just don't make them like that anymore!
So I am going to spend my weekend watching these. Wearing this. Drinking out of this. Impressed? I also have 2 Star Wars lunchboxes. But I thought that would be overkill.
My plea to you is this. Watch them. Enjoy them. I've never met a single person who said they didn't like them after watching the original trilogy. Just do it. Finally see why they won't ever go away. You'll never regret it.
It's important to me that I am a good example to my students. Sure, I can be mean and sarcastic on my blog (for you guys!) but in real life I try really hard to be a model of good behavior for these kids. I fear that this week I may have failed.
A few girls hung back after class to talk to me. Two of them are my buddies. One girl was just kind of hanging out, putting things away and chatting with us.
"Hey, Mrs. Holdaway? What are your favorite chick flicks? We're having a marathon this weekend!"
"Oh, man. I don't know. I don't LOVE chick flicks... but I'd have to say... Princess Bride. Probably #1 of all time. I like My Best Friend's Wedding. My sister likes How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, so I've seen that one a bunch..."
"Oh yeah we love those!!!"
"What else... I really like 10 Things I Hate About You..."
"What?!!! That movie is so bad!" - random 3rd girl.
I halted immediately and all our eyes flew to her.
"Yeah! I started watching that once and turned it off in like, less than half an hour! It was so bad!" she firmly stated.
I pressed my brain, wondering what terrible things I had overlooked. All I could think of was their dad preventing pre-marital sex with the pregnancy suit. Which I guess is a little scandalous.
"Oh.... well... It was the 90s...." - lamest excuse ever from me.
The other girls looked at her out of the corners of their eyes as they packed up their stuff and thanked me for my suggestions. They all left, leaving me standing alone in my room.
So many of these kids quote R-rated movies, play super violent games and have these dirty little minds. I guess I had forgotten that there are still tender little souls here. Few and far between. But bless their little hearts.
Seriously, though. 10 Things I Hate About You? What are we coming to?
Now that I'm done with school (I still do a victory dance every time I get to say that), I finally have time to read. I was finally able to start this zombie book I've been wanting to read for a while, which has rekindled my zombie love once again.
Zombie literature/cinema/pop culture is becoming much more trendy. Which for once I think is great. So many people think zombie stuff is just about gore and terror. Great characteristics, but not vitally important to good zombie material. Scary movies are what led me to zombie stuff, but it's the realism that really addicted me. What if there was a zombie apocalypse? Would you live in a mall? Which person in your family would be the one to completely lose their heads and run screaming into a horde of ghouls? Would humanity be preserved? Is emotion humanity's greatest strength, or will it prove its downfall? This is deep stuff, you guys.
So now. Without further ado, my top zombie picks:
1. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. What started it all. I got this book and read it rapidly over Christmas break last year. It combined two of my favorite things - the wit, intrigue and romance of an Austen novel with the intensity, fear and violence of apocalyptic fiction. Fantastic. People have asked "Well doesn't it take away from P&P?" My answer is no. It absolutely does not. He sticks to the story and shows supreme respect for Austen's work. This is hands down my favorite book. I love it. With all my heart.
2. Zombieland. This movie is hilarious and entertaining. Great acting. Great effects. Overuse of the f-word (sorry). Just all around awesome.
3. The Zombie Survival Guide. The Beard gave me this for Christmas and I haven't had a chance to read it until now. It's incredible. Max Brooks is awesome. He details categories of zombie breakouts, weapon use, stealth methods, anything you can think of. It's completely serious. I love it.
4. Humans vs. Zombies. Utah State University participated in this Zombie Week game where people were tagged as zombies and their goal was to infect as many people as possible, and students could defend themselves with Nerf guns. That alone was almost enough to make me want to change my major and transfer. No way would BYU ever OK something like this. Still. I am now adding to my list of goals that I would like to participate in this game at some point in my life. Learn more about it at Humansvszombies.org.
5. World War Z. Another Max Brooks classic. If you are into historical fiction, military fiction, action, or apocalyptic stuff, this book is for you. It's a collection of stories from all kinds of people documenting the different stages and location of the Zombie War. Incredible. The detail and seriousness that Max Brooks achieves is stunning. I couldn't put it down. Thanks to my zombie buddy and co-worker Chris for lending it to me! I'll give it back someday...
These are my top 5, but I have quite a few more recommendations, if you are looking for more. Try it. Try some Zombies. It might surprise you how much you like it. It's not just about eating brains, after all...
Last week I watched the 1996 version of Jane Eyre, starring Charlotte Gainsbourg as Jane and William Hurt as Rochester. This is one of my favorite books (read it. I'll lend it to you) and I'm getting excited for the new version to hit only select theaters this weekend. Honestly, I probably won't see it until I can Redbox it, but I'm still excited. I thought this was a great representation, but I found myself mildly dissatisfied.
No one wants to watch two ugly people kiss and fall in love.
Sorry. But I'm right. Why do we go see movies? Because they transport us to another time, another place, another life. Why would we trade for something average? Pointless.
I would never knock the genius of the Bronte sisters. I love the book. I fully recognize that major parts of the theme and storyline are the physical appearances of Jane and Edward, Jane's humble upbringing, the status difference between them, and so on. I know. I get it. In the book it doesn't bother me. I tend to focus so much more on the dialogue, creating less of a mental picture. But when I'm watching the movie I can't help but think....
Ugh.
Is it too much to ask that actors be cast (even if inappropriately) that are attractive? Its so much easier for me to watch. Every romantic garden scene, every lingering glance would be safe from my interrupting thought of "Well this might be more gush-worthy if it wasn't two uncomfortably average-looking people." Does this make me a shallow, entertainment-seeking American? Probably. It would be worth it.
Conference hands me the best two weekends of the year. Pajamas, food and hearing the inspired words of prophets and apostles of the Lord. Yahtzee. In addition there were movies, family, mocktails and plenty of baseball. My only complaint is that it was too short. Usually when I have an awesome weekend I feel like throwing myself in front of a semi on Monday morning because it's another 5 days filled with adulthood and responsibility. Today is different, though. And it's all because of Conference.
Conference serves as a gentle, poignant reminder of where I fall short, but with the positive hope of possibility. Rather than making me feel inadequate, Conference inspires me to be better and to leave behind the habits and choices that are holding me back. When a young infielder watches professional athletes, it doesn't make him feel inadequate or worthless. He watches them with wide eyes, thinking
"I wanna be like that."
Of course Christ is our ultimate example. But these brethren provide additional, frequent examples of Gospel living. They are our professional athletes. And this is the World Series.
At the conclusion of each semiannual General Conference, I have starred 3 or 4 talks that were my favorites or the most applicable. Every time, EVERY TIME, this guy makes the cut.
I love him. Always have. I don't know if it's his personality, manner of speaking, businesslike approach or if he's my patron apostle, but whatever it is, Dallin H. Oaks gets me every time. And by "gets me" I mean "makes me grin sheepishly, swallow hard and commit to real change" all with an enduring sense of positive realism and pure love. His talk about desire was fantastic. So tailored to my faults, strengths and needs. I've been struggling (and failing) lately to manage my priorities. I have been thinking only of the personal, immediate, selfish benefits of my choices, rather than the long term effects and underlying desires. Our choices indicate who and what we are, right? So that must mean I'm a sleepy, lazy, to-do list making, Diet Coke-drinking couch potato. But that's not me! That's not who I am. Promise! But that's what my senioritis/Spring Fever/burnt out/twitterpated girlfriend-driven choices have been. Texting during or ditching class is giving me no additional satisfaction. Avoiding work and roommate situations is not teaching me anything. Shirking the gym for some Office on my couch is not giving me any more energy. So what am I doing? What are my underlying desires, and therefore, priorities? Touche, Dallin. Touche.
Elder Scott is such a sweetheart. He made me cry! That talk was so tender and loving. It made me want to be the kind of wife that Sister Scott was, so that I can enjoy the beautiful blessings of celestial marriage like they have (and will). All the talk and counsel for the temple, marriage, and parenting was so inspiring and exciting. I can't wait till my May Ensign comes and I can study more in depth the words of these awesome General Authorities.
Oh and did anyone else notice (and chuckle) at the major theme running through several sessions? "Married by October" is the much-needed and socially sensitive message for young single men (and women, sort of). I will say one thing. It is a problem. They wouldn't have addressed it 3 separate times (that I can recall) if it wasn't. But I want to assert on behalf of single girls throughout the church-- We know. We know you aren't all worthless douchebags. {Sorry?} We know its demanding and expensive and scary. And we know you'll be amazing husbands and fathers. We know you're not bad guys. Just scared ones. And we're scared too! If we can walk by faith and help each other out, we all win. I salute you, young single men. Good luck in your quest. I've got a lot of single friends if you're looking. {Which you should be.}
Sidebar -- I'm glad to be dating someone who has his act together. It kept that message from being awkward and uncomfortable. Props to all my friends who aren't man-babies.
So conference was awesome. I also attended a bridal shower for my cute friend Sam at the ever-chic Spark. It was a really classy shower complete with non-alcoholic martinis and cupcakes. It's great to see Sam so happy as she prepares to marry her best friend in the temple.
During Priesthood session, I went to dinner and to see Hop, which I surprisingly LOVED. I grumbled about it a lot. And then laughed through the entire thing. Also watched Tangled with my boyfriend's little sisters on Friday and it was so adorable! We spent all weekend house-hopping, baseball-watching and eating delicious food. Now it's Monday morning and I've got a full schedule of work, class, homework, errands and obligations. But I'm excited. Life goes on and only gets better.
Saturday August 14 was Travel Day! I couldn't believe it. Later that night (although really it would be like 24 hours later) I'd be breathing Utah air and hugging my family. Now, ok. Bear with me. This day was a WHIRLWIND, obviously. I hadn't slept, I was traveling, which is always taxing, and I was crazy excited. Unfortunately, because of all this, I did not write anything down for this day. Even if I did it would probably be incoherent. So I'll try to remember it as best I can. {Number of times Diet Coke is mentioned in this post = 11}
First, to help you understand the relative times and length of my trip, a chart:
The biggest thing I want you to take away from this chart is that I was traveling for over 24 hours. Also, keep in mind that I didn't sleep the night before. And wait. I landed in SLC at 11:30 and didn't get to bed until 8 am? That must be a mistake, right? Well, stay tuned for the thrilling explanation.
So packed and prepared, I jumped into the van with Anna, Anders, Talia and Jessica (other Jessica). Everyone kept asking me if I was tired or felt ok for staying up all night, but honestly I felt fine (I HAD chugged like 3 of my last Diet Cokes. I had to get rid of them somehow). I bid a quick farewell to everyone and clambered out of the van and into the dreary, sketchy bus station covered terminals. It was rainy, slightly cold and the gross, irregular yellow lighting of the terminals combined with my sudden realization that
1. My luggage might be too heavy for the bus requirements 2. All I had for my bus ticket was a printout of payment 3. The monitors did not list a bus leaving for London Heathrow at 7:30 4. Since I threw away my debit card in Preston on accident, all I had was the 30ish pounds and $50 cash on my person, and didn't know if I could buy another bus ticket or taxi for that amount if my bus pass didn't work. 5. Just a general realization of all the things that potentially COULD go wrong on this long and complicated journey home.
Jessica and Talia were supposed to take a bus, but were worried that it wasn't coming or that they hadn't bought the right tickets, so they made the executive decision to run over to the train station and get on the next train to London. Their flight was much earlier than mine and the train only takes about 1.5-2 hours, compared to the 3 hour bus ride. Once they left, around 7:00, I was all alone. Sitting there. Cold and damp. Trying to contain my anxiety. I ended up throwing away some t-shirts, my towel, and my trusty charcoal peacoat (it was falling apart anyways) in an attempt to lighten up my luggage.
The bus came a little late, and wasn't the exact bus number on my ticket. The driver said the schedules change all the time and he had no problem letting me on. Although he did laugh at the weight of my bag and asked me if there was a dead body in it. I climbed on a bus, got a window seat and pulled out a book, but I just wanted to get a nice last look at the UK while I could. I streamed "First Train Home" by Imogen Heap (and other appropriate songs) over and over as I said goodbye to Cardiff, Wales and garbage lining the streets. Excitement filled me, but then I started to crash and wanted to save my food and Diet Coke for when we were closer to London. I'd need to be alert when I got off the bus and had to negotiate multiple terminals. So I set my alarm to wake me up around 10:15 (my mom had been stressing that I would be too tired and sleep through my flight/stops/arrivals), and fell into a superficial, unsatisfying doze. I hate those big buses. They are cold, uncomfortable and cramped. Even for a little short girl like me. Pulling into Heathrow was fantastic. I had consumed my chips and apple, downed my Diet Coke, and was ready to rock.
I grabbed my luggage, hopped on the underground tram, and stepped out at the appropriate terminal. I was able to quickly check in and deposit my luggage, which was a HUGE relief. My backpack was also full to bursting, and lugging them both around was making my back tighter than a drum. Around 11-11:30, I was through security, located my terminal and sat down with every intention of working on my paper. Luckily, it was like 4 in the morning at home, so no one was online to tempt me with conversation. The people-watching was entertaining enough, though. Finally around 1 pm I decided I wanted to eat, stock up snacks and blow the rest of my soon-to-be-useless pounds. I grabbed lunch, bought gum, Toblerone, water and another Diet Coke to drink when I was about to get off my flight, and headed back to my terminal to await boarding call.
I boarded the plane around 1:45 and popped several Dramamine as the plane was taking off. Goodbye, UK! I'll miss you. And I was out. OUT OUT. Every couple of hours I would wake up for just long enough to look out the window at the ocean, check the time on my seat monitor, maybe sip some water and pass back out again. I was miraculously awake when they came around to serve us dinner. I wasn't super hungry and that food is generally super gross, so I think I just stuck to the rice, cookies and jello. The cute little Indian man next to me offered me his jello before falling back into motionless, soundless sleep again. Best row-mate ever. Before I knew it, I was looking out the window at land. And not just any land. The US of A! I had tears welling up in my eyes. My heart was swelling in my chest. I was really home.
I downed their last round of complimentary Diet Coke and my secret stash of Diet Coke and Toblerone in the last 30 minutes of the flight. By this point I couldn't sit still. And I know what you're thinking, but no, it wasn't because of the chocolate and Diet Coke. Maybe a little. But mostly I was just DYING to use my cell phone. I could TEXT! I could make phone calls! Wow. It had been forever. I hadn't really minded it at all, it had even been nice, in fact. But now I was ready. As the plane touched down and stood idle waiting for an opening, I giggled like a child at the little startup tone of my phone. I sent my first text back in the US:
"Tyrannosaurus Rex!"
You know who you are.
Then the texts to everyone else - "Guess who's back in the US?!" to all my friends and coworkers and "Landed safe!" to my family. When I finally stood and shuffled off the plane, I was herded directly into Customs, which went surprisingly fast. A big, jolly American guy processed me, and asked me about my final destination and teased me while I put away my paperwork. "Well, good luck. And welcome back to the USA!" A high five, and then I emerged in the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport.
American voices on the intercom. My phone buzzing cheerily in my pocket. And then... a vending machine. I happened to glance in it as I walked through the last terminal and what did I see?
Tears welled up in my eyes again. Over CHEEZ-ITS for crying out loud. I was a wreck, clearly. But you don't understand.... one thing (among other things like real Diet Coke, Reese's and Wendy's) they do not have in the UK that I had been DYING for was good cheese crackers. Like Cheez-its. This was America.
The Minneapolis-St. Paul airport is ENORMOUS. Seriously. It's huge. I can't even imagine the Mall of America. It took me almost 25 minutes just to walk to my terminal to make sure I could find it. From there, I called my parents, called my grandmas and updated everyone on my situation. Those were some great conversations. I was loving seeing kids in pro sports jerseys, people talking about Glee, and even a man wearing a Dunder Mifflin t-shirt. It was like Christmas. Everywhere I turned, something thoroughly American! Around 7 or so, I realized I was starving, having eaten nothing but snacks and Diet Coke since London. I decided I was going to find a nice sit down restaurant and eat me some American food and have Diet Cokes delivered to my table, Ed Budge-style. I had seen a Chili's and thought that would be a good safety, but started looking for other options.
And suddenly, there it was. A Cafe Rio-esque MEXICAN RESTAURANT. I practically sprinted in. Did I mention Mexican food is my favorite? Did you know there are literally NO Mexican Restaurants in the UK? The allure of chips and salsa was intoxicating. I sat down, got a REAL Diet Coke (oh how I've missed you), started to tuck into my delicious burrito, but then I looked up. What did I see? What could possibly stop me from devouring my precious Mexican food like a barbarian?
Baseball.
There was a TV in the restaurant. On that TV was a baseball game. It was just a Twins game, but still. America's pastime. Not cricket. Not golf. Not soccer. BASEBALL. At this point I really started to cry. It was just too much. So here I was, sitting in this airport restaurant by myself, a mouth full of steaming delicious rice, beans and pico, staring up at a baseball game, with tears escaping from my tired eyes.
GOD BLESS AMERICA.
When I pulled myself together, eliminated my burrito, cashed a few more Diet Cokes and watched the last couple innings of the game, I headed all the way back to my terminal. I tried to work on my paper and got some done, but ultimately just wanted to text and talk. I boarded my plane around 9 and soon we were en route to Salt Lake City! The flight was a little under 3 hours long, and while I slept for a good hour at the start, I spent the remainder staring out the window, listening to my ipod, and day dreaming (well, night-flight dreaming) about seeing my parents and siblings, the boy, my friends, my office, grandmas, everyone! I fantasized about my comfy, dark bedroom at home and how I would sleep for an entire 24 hours once I got home. After I took a luxurious shower, of course. I finished touching up my makeup as we flew in sight of Salt Lake City. I know this will sound ridiculous, but as I saw the city lights my heart started to pound, and once I caught view of the Salt Lake Temple, I was flooded with the Spirit. Again, my eyes welled up with tears and I had to fix my eyeliner. Worth it.
I stood in line to get out of the plane, bouncing on the balls of my feet. The guy riding next to me laughed and said "Don't worry. The airport isn't going anywhere." Not funny, random guy. You don't know that. Seeing the familiar terminals of the Salt Lake Airport was awesome. I quickly swerved in and out of passengers to make it to the open floor, and then jogged to the escalator to baggage claim. As I descended below the overhanging beams, I caught sight of my mom and dad, waiting for me. Biggest smile ever. I ran over to them, dropped my backpack and jumped up into my dad's arms. I'm such a daddy's girl. Me and my mom were emotional and excited. I love them so much. My dad grabbed my bad and we headed out to the car. Mitch ran out and hugged me as we walked up and I was having such a hard time holding the tears back from my laughter. I jumped in the car to find my adorable little Blade! I think I missed him even more than my friends and family because I couldn't talk to him.
It was so bizarre to sit in a nice, leather-interior Audi that didn't smell of wetness and feet. The backseat was this enormous expanse of open space, and WE WERE DRIVING ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD! There were no roundabouts, no fields filled with sheep. Just billboard after billboard, and exit after exit populated by Wendy's and Texacos. I told them funny stories and answered their questions, meanwhile texting all my friends. My now-boyfriend Ryan and a few of our friends were hanging out and wanted me to come say hi. It was midnight, I was with my parents, exhausted, and hadn't been home in 6 weeks. So naturally I decide that's a good idea. Clearly I like this kid. My parents drop me off in Orem, bewildered, no doubt. We pull up next to my friends, I say thanks and goodbye to my family, and jump out, excited to see the guy in the white v-neck walking towards me with a big smile on his face. He picked me up with a huge hug and a "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!! I missed you." I'm pretty sure my heart melted. Enough of that embarrassing gushiness.
I said hi to our other friends and we all hung out and talked for a while. Finally, they decided to go up to Kader's "Le Cabin" and watch a movie. It was close to 1 am at this point, so I thought I should go home. Turns out, Ryan's car was parked at someone's house, and it would be a huge pain to have to go get it. Plus I was having a great time. I shot my parents a text to say that I'd just come home in the morning and to go ahead and go to bed, and we piled into Kader's car and headed to Le Cabin. We watched Smokey and the Bandit, which was awesome, and hung out until about 8 am when I figured it was safe to head out to Mapleton without waking anybody up.
I got home, went inside and went straight down into my room. As I opened the door and flipped on the light, the best surprise ever greeted me. A HUGE new bed and cute bedding.
Well, now I feel completely worthless.
My parents had bought a nice new bed to suprise me and welcome me home with. And I didn't even come home until 8 in the morning! Worst daughter ever. I ran upstairs and thanked them, apologizing for not coming home with them. They rolled their eyes and laughed. They're used to me being inconsiderate and making decisions under the influence of fatigue, apparently.
And then. THEN, I went to bed. That bed was a celestial cloud of dreaming glory. I slept till 4 or 5. I can't remember. But it was delightful.
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