The London Spring Break Underwear Debacle

Spring Break my junior year of college, I went to London with my friends Bill, Pete, and Travis. The itinerary called for a visit to our friend James in England for a few days, then I was heading off to the south of France to visit our friend Kat; Bill and James were off to Spain to visit our friend Emily; and Pete and Travis were going to rock London.

The plan was to drive from Bill's to my parents' house in the Chicago burbs where Bill would keep his car for the week we were out of the country. I would do my laundry in the 5 hour interim between us getting there and when we needed to leave for O'Hare, and then away we'd go.

We get to my parents' house no problem and I load my clothes into the washer. Obviously I had plenty of time to dry them AND pack, so everything was easy peasy. Then I realize with three hours til we go to the airport that I had left my passport in Madison.

*CUE ATOMIC BOMB BLAST*

Now as everyone obviously knows, I am a total tweak. I freak out over stupid BS minutiae, can you imagine how I handled this? Have you ever had such a wave of panic come over you that your blood runs cold? I didn't even know it was possible.

So what's a girl to do? I called our everyday Superman, a one Mr. Dan Henry (proving once and for all you CAN trust a man with two first names), who was still in Madison, located my passport on their kitchen table and sprinted to the Memorial Union where a VanGalder bus to O'Hare was thisclose to leaving. Gets on board and just announces randomly to the bus "Is anyone going to O'Hare?" And hands my passport off to a random stranger. I get his number relayed to me and we work it out that he'll meet me at the international terminal.

Phew. Ok. Next item on the agenda: drying my clothes and packing. In all the hullabaloo, I realize that shit, it's now 2.5 hours til takeoff, meaning we have to be at O'Hare, like ... now. So I quickly open up a duffel bag (it was basically a glorified gym bag) and start dumping all my laundry into it. ANNNND off we go to the airport!

Now all my friends are checked in and at the gate, and here I am lounging around at the check-in gate (which closes at 8 PM, by the way, and the time is reading 7:40 and counting), frantically calling random VanGalder bus guy every 5 minutes, who is crawling along at a glacial pace on the Kennedy in rush hour traffic. Awesome. He gets there at 7:55, I run through check-in in about 5 minutes or less, run through security to Air India, and am literally the last person who boards the plane.

In a post-9/11 world, of course this is cause for concern, so I'm stopped at the gate and they ask to search my carry-on. Well yes of course you can Air India, I'm just happy to be here. So keep in mind at this point I haven't even seen what is in my carry on yet, but based on the curious glances Mr. and Ms. Air India Security are giving each other, I'm in for quite the surprise on the other side of the pond.

After a completely uneventful flight (especially after all the pre-flight drama), we land the next day at 11am local time in England. James meets us at a tube stop across the street from Buckingham Palace where there is a giant park (a Google search has just informed me that this is St. James Park) so we go to enjoy the sun and lay down and perhaps day-nap off our jet lag.

I also decide to take this opportunity to open my duffel bag and find out what I'm working with for the next week.

Ok seriously. I had brought 37 pairs of underwear. And they're all wet. and not in a good way. So what's an American Girl in London to do? Well I do the most logical thing. I lay them out in the sun to dry out. In St. James Park. At noon. On a Saturday. In Queen Elizabeth's backyard. Obviously.

The next thing I know, a freaking constable -- yes, a bonafide bobby (!) -- comes over in his awkwardly British way where they obviously have no idea how to handle this ridiculous American swine blaspheming the Queen's grass and informs me that this is probably really a bad idea.

the worst part? That duffel bag weighed like 25 pounds. I made Bill and Travis carry it the whole time. And God bless James' grandparents who lent me their dryer to dry all my underroos. I can't even begin to discuss what they must have thought of me.

(Awkwardly) bonding with the locals in France

We've Only Just Begun ...

So this is a fun experiment.

I read a blog post recently by a former coworker titled "Why I Blog." Her explanation was incredibly poignant and described how she basically had created an online scrapbook full of memories of starting a new family with her husband and her puppy in a new city.

Well that motivated me to start my own blog with a similar theme ... but ... not.

I was about to start explaining what this blog is going to be about, but who am I kidding? This is for my friends and the whole premise is I've told these stories so many times that they're losing their charm.

So obviously I'm starting a blog to preserve it for all posterity.

Shall we begin? This is from an email I sent out to about 12 people in July. Starting small.

Hey, did you hear I got a new job? I started July 23rd as the Membership Recruitment and Communications Coordinator for the Congress for Neurological Surgeons. Since I now have a blog, I have to say this: The views expressed on this website/weblog are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of my employer. 

So the CNS is nonprofit membership association for neurological surgeons, basically.  The position entails recruiting new members, following up with existing members who are applying to ensure they're applications are complete, and coordinating closely with the Membership Manager and the Communications Manager. I totally applied on a fluke. I had by no means been "actively" job searching. I just thought it looked like a good opportunity and I had the skill set necessary to be successful at the job. I was surprised that they called me for a phone screen, wasn't expecting a call back, got called for an interview, wasn't expecting a call back, and got called for a second interview, and then got offered the position. I had the very awkward task of informing my current boss I was leaving and then going to California to visit Miranda for a week, but CNS allowed me to give the YJC 3 weeks notice, so that was a plus. What makes this position appealing is: 37.5 hours/week. Amazing benefits (no out of pocket costs). No overtime. Minimal travel. 401k and tuition reimbursement after 1 year. They seem to be very invested in the happiness/success of their employees. There's a free gym in the basement of the facility where the company is located. Also, my starting salary is almost a $6000 raise from what I'm currently making. I only got one raise in 3.5 years at the YJC.

I have a new guy in my life! His name is Tom. He's great. He works for Will County Department on Aging investigating elderly abuse. It's interesting because we have a lot in common on the surface (movies, music, books, politics, life outlook, philosophy, etc.) so we have a lot to talk about. Everytime we go out to dinner we end up closing the restaurant. But it's also nice because on a deeper level we're basically opposites. He is super even-keeled and calm. Introverted, even. Able to stay pretty neutral/objective about everything, and is a very calming presence around me. The other thing about it that's surprising and a little bit ... different? is that I haven't had super-overwhelming pining "oh my god this man is amazing and the solution to my loneliness!" feelings I've had in the past. In fact, my feelings towards him have grown so organically and slowly that I almost called things off because I thought I was "just not that into him." But I've come to realize and accept that it's a good thing that this is how my feelings are developing, and that all the other times I've had this all consuming feeling about a man, it rubberbands back just as quickly into feelings of isolation, abandonment, despair, or just he (or I) lose interest just as quickly.

Ok that's it. Over and out.