Category Archives: Planes trains and automobiles

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” ~Nelson Mandela

Monday was my first day back in the office after a three week absence.

I’ll give you a moment to think about just how full of love and harmony and pink puffy hearts, I was after those six miraculous hours.

When I planned to do Chicago, San Francisco, New Orleans and Martha’s Vineyard in rapid succession, I pictured myself being strong like a bear and quick like a bunny rabbit. As if there was a magic elixir that would put me on a path towards neverending light and ensconced in forgiveness when surrounded by a grand total of 15,000 people in three weeks. All of them sharing my oxygen like that shit is free and coughing and breathing and smiling in my general direction as if to say “Oh you like to be alive and full of phlegm?! Me too!”

It was a grand scheme that turned into a giant Fail Whale. That has been my favorite phrase since leaving San Francisco. Everything is a FAIL! I use it more than I use “Fuck” in all of it’s forms. Though in a Red Bull induced high I did start saying “Fuck me, FAIL!” so perhaps there is no hope for me. The last day of vacation was horrendous. So horrendous that I cannot discuss it without ending each sentence with “…and then I had to physically restrain myself from choking that man in the middle of the street”. It was an epic disaster that will can only be cured by magical chocolate chip cookies of groveling and forgiveness and perhaps payment for the new tires that were needed because of shitty karma. So I ended that night with rum, vodka, the view of a light house in East Chop and a charming eight year old named Emma.

Emma likes to read and write and I’m pretty sure she’s a Mensa member. I told her that when I was eight I liked to read and write and now people pay me enough money to get my eyebrows done because of my reading and writing so from what I understand, literacy can be a good thing. We even did a little show and tell of the perfect arch of my eyebrows. Then her aunt requested that I write about her on my site and Emma’s face lit up like I said that ponies would fall from the Heavens if she got a mention here. Emma, darling, you’re cute as a button and I’m sorry that a paragraph on my site will not elicit seven million dollars and a new Webkinz but at least someone once publicly said that you are absolutely charming.

The next morning I spent a long drive home on the Massachusetts turnpike wondering why Massachusetts couldn’t inch itself closer to New York. Just a few more miles…yep…to the left…ahh, right there. Nicely situated on top of Lake George. I also contemplated how 24 has been and that when I was eight years old, I pictured 24 being far different than it has turned out to be. Good Lord; I once upon a time envisioned children and a husband at 24. Not a cat that shits everywhere and coming home to three bitches – of the four legged variety – four nights a week, an addiction to Swedish Fish and the breakup from hell.

You know how people have diaries that chronicling the stupidities of their youth to look back on? Ones that require seven keys, a combination code and the oath of office to open? At times I’m both thrilled and utterly terrified that I have shared most every dumb ass, alcohol ridden, mistake of my 20′s publicly. Then again, when I am older and look back on July of my 24th year; the month when I had to spend the entire time around large, anxiety inducing crowds and I never once had to use physical harm on a single person. I imagine that I’ll look back upon that month and see how much restraint I had and realize that was the month that I discovered a little thing called Emotional Growth. I’ll give myself a pat on the back and be thankful that I had witnesses.