This is also my first blog post as a 25 year old...and while I realize that I'm still young and the world is my oyster or whatever, I honestly feel as old as an oyster looks.
(For the record I edited this photo in Paint in public at Starbucks...you can't imagine the weird ass looks I got for putting a smiley face on a clam...and then continuing to blog about it)
See? Old, wrinkly, and wet (it's been raining here non-stop since I got here). Anyways there are various culprits to blame for my quarter life crisis. First of all I'm faced with the hardest decision of my life thus far, which is whether I should stay in Spain another year or head back home and start pursuing a real job. Whenever I'm forced to teach preschool (aka Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays) I'm 120% sure I should come home immediately, if not that exact same day. Other days when the weather is nice and I'm not so stressed out, I think of how fortunate I am to be here, and how little Indianapolis seems so small and almost boring in comparison to this amazing European city...and all of my friends and students that I love here...and never seeing them ever again...and then I start having those heart palpitations I had last Christmas and look up pictures of cats on Pinterest to calm myself down.
Grumpy cat is my currently my favorite...I wish my cats looked pissed all the time. This seriously makes me laugh to tears.
I'm putting off my decision as long as possible. I'll blog about it as soon as I know so that you all will know if you have to miss me another year or throw me a welcome home party (and yes I want a party. :)
Another reason I feel super old was my flight back. First of all my flight wasn't really expected to be a bag full of rainbows and unicorns anyways because A.) it was with American Airlines, B.) it was going through JFK in New York (and if you don't remember the hell I went through last year involving both of these horrors please reference my 3-part blog post detailing the trauma [that I STILL have nightmares about]) and C.) it was my birthday. I'm used to not having spectacular birthdays (it always falls on events that are more important) so I wasn't so disappointed and I've decided to change it this year to February 10 anyways so I can celebrate. Then, at the airport, my adventure began. First I passed through TSA and got stopped as I passed through the metal body scanner. I had taken off my boots and was wearing jean leggings and socks. My right ankle was showing up as a threat so they pulled me aside to pat down my ankle. I thought that was so absurd...my ankle! And with my leggings you'd clearly be able to tell if I was concealing guns or knives or weapons...pfff. Anyways as I'm struggling to put my boots back on, this other TSA guard approaches me and another guy next to me and says, "whoever puts their hands out first and closes their eyes gets a surprise!"
Now....in my 25 years of life thus far, I've learned that it's never a good idea to actually follow through with this kind of situation. You'll never actually be pleased by the outcome and it's sure to end in disappointment or disgust. Not to mention that it's coming from a complete stranger...I'm pretty sure that's the exact line that most flashers in trench coats use to operate and facilitate their business. Anyways the other dude I was in line with stuck out his hand (but didn't close his eyes) and the TSA guard gave him 20 cents in change, then went on some tangent about how Big Brother is watching (pointing to the cameras) and how if he were to pocket the money he'd be fired in a second. Both of them continued on about various conspiracy theories and I tried to do what I always do when confronted by wackadoodle strangers, get the hell out of dodge. Before succeeding though, of course, the TSA guard walks up to me and says, and I quote, "I love yo curlz." I was super confused so he clarified, "Ya hair, you sure got some pretty curlz." This was pretty interesting anyways because my hair was wavy and stringy at best so I just said "oh..........thanks" and tried to continue on without any more interactions with this clearly insane man. I wasn't quick enough though and he continued, "You're welcome...that's the way to ma heart. Curlz an' good cookin'." I laughed uneasily and said, "well unfortunately I've only got 50% of that, I can't cook for shit!" and ran on.
Once I got to the gate I was horrified to see that our airplane was the size of a matchbox car but tried not to think about it too much. I cried for no good reason on the way to New York and slept a little bit against the window. I was excited to get to New York mainly because I was starving and ready to set up camp and watch some TV. Unfortunately all of the restaurants in my terminal were absurd and weird food places (I don't need gourmet food in an airport...all I wanted was Wendy's.) Of course among all of the snobby Italian, sushi, and Indian restaurants there was a McDonald's so I settled for that and made my way to the gate. First of all, JFK doesn't have free wifi. Or electrical outlets. I truly don't understand how the most famous city in the world's biggest airport doesn't have modern amenities. I roughed it though, not worrying about battery because I wouldn't need it on the plane, and watched Big Bang reruns on my hard drive instead.
Cut to the flight and I was HORRIFIED to see that there were no little TV's on the back of the seats. STUPID-ASS AMERICAN AIRLINES, SO HORRIBLY WORTHLESS. Damn they suuuuuck. Not looking forward to the flight home...so I immediately popped a sleeping pill. My flight was generally uneventful. There was a bitchy French woman who was pretty unbearable but kinda fun to watch her harp at everyone else. The airplane was chock full of study abroad students...and I think I was literally the only person under 40 who was not a student. I felt so old. Everyone was like, "oh my God, like, where are you from? What school are you from?" THE Butler University....3 years ago (gag). I'm not study abroad..."oooh, oh my God! So, like, are you like really good at Spanish then?? Do you like love Madrid??"
This was an actual conversation that went on for the entirety of the 8 hour flight. It was also sprinkled with the girl speaking horrible horrible horrible Spanish, trying to prove that she was ready for study abroad. I think I let my bitterness about being old seep in a little bit though because I accidentally scared her by accidentally telling her that Spain is horribly racist and she was going to have an interesting time because she was 1/2 Chinese and Spaniards don't generally understand Chinese-Americans (if you look in any way Asian, they think you're Chinese (from China). Period). I swear it was an accident....and I didn't even realize it until she walked away and looked three times more nervous than she did at the beginning of the flight. I like to think I gave her a sort of heads up, though. Wisdom from her elders. That makes me feel better.
Anyways I ended up finding the only non-study abroad student, who was a water-polo player and coming back to finish her first year in Spain, and we made it back to the center together. I treated myself to a taxi from the main metro line (only 5 euros surprisingly!) for my birthday and slept the rest of the day.
Starbucks is officially kicking me off their wifi so tomorrow night I will try to update again with more amazing stories about Colonel Nun and the crazy things she's been up to these past 2 weeks (there is so much to tell). Stay tuned!
