collegiate diversion

Have always felt a burden to write about my travels.

When my father took me to Europe, that one time when I was seven on a business trip, he pointed out this really stunning looking college-student and said “see all of her notes? Her journals? She’s recording her whole trip…that’s dedication.”

I used to grunt and groan about it when I was a kid, writing for my Dad. Writing this and that, reporting on my readings, articulating theNationalGeographic. He pushed me, but I am certainly a better writer for it.

3.11.09
So it goes without saying that I must write now about the fascinating I met on my way to airport today –

Grandmother hired a limo for me, picked me up, quite an extravagance, but she has always been posh like that. Guess I ruined the effect when I asked the driver if I could smoke in the car (my newly purchased beautiful American Spirits which I indulge in a few times a year). His horrified voice killed the elegance of my spirit.

So I called my mother from my cell phone, to fill her in on all the gory details of my visit. I had called her around 3 a.m. eastern time, with no one else I thought I could cry to about some of the harsh criticism dad’s mother bestowed onto me.

My dad’s criticisms = cool.
Grandmother’s = horribly cruel.

My mom didn’t answer that night but now she wanted to know all about it– but I’m okay now. Grandmother is aged and set in her ways. We had a tremendous time, talking until midnight, me making her a birthday omelet in the morning, discussing politics, and family gossip and then (sort of out of the blue) sexual intercourse!

She didn’t to mind my stance on that, I give her a lot of credit for being progressive.

It’s fun to read through my old diaries from traveling to Paris with my Grandmother as a graduation gift from middle school (nothing so grand for high school, perhaps she couldn’t bare to take me again). I cried a lot on that trip too, at the side-comments:

“Oh Samantha dear, don’t finish all of your soup, you really should be watching your weight.”

And then this time, all too similarly…

“Well dear, I can see that you’ve lost some weight. Really, I applaud you. But you have a ways to go.”

Fuck.

But you know what? Some strong coffee and clonopin and a decent cigarette in the smoking wing of the airport can clear up that anxiety ;).

….I kid, sort of.

We had coffee in the morning, and me, the best shower of my life (I could get used to senior assisted-living homes, like, nice). Then we flipped through old black and white photos. She was so beautiful, and skinny, on the ranch in New Mexico.

I wish I had those white pumps, damn.

So, got to the airport after talking to the driver, a Jewish-Russian immigrant who’s son is studying to become a doctor at Loyola. His wife always wanted to be in medicine, but her gender and religious background left her little opportunity in her home-country.

“So much opportunity and freedom in AMERICA!” he said in a burly and thick Russian accent.

I guess I was just sad, listening to how he must be a driver, carting rich bitches around (present company excluded, my grandmother’s the rich one and paid all).

How sad to forgo his love of the accordion. He played me his music on the car’s CD player – it was decent. Poor guy, he was a well-known musician then.

Alas, I guess, or something dreadfully anti-empathetic like that. (always hated that term “alas”)

He helped me out of the car when we got to O’Hare, grabbed my bags and handed them to me saying “Have a good life.” I said “Thank you Yeffime,” his Russian name, disturbingly altered to the American and colloquial “Jeff.”

Then I stood in line, waiting for security check. Checked myself in on my own, I have to say, I am impressed with myself, keeping it together and being solidly independent. It’s something my grandmother mentioned throughout the remainder of my stay “Don’t be in a rush! Your parents were weird.” Marrying in college she means.

True, falling in love in, getting married at 21, having a beautiful and happy marriage since, being partners in a business. It’s unheard of, really. And a lot of pressure, on me, I have always felt.

But Mrs. Allen is worried I’ll become pregnant with all those ROMANTIC tendencies of mine. But I assured her, I am working on that, really. I find myself to be truly independent these days and SINGLE, with the mild crush here or there.

Met this other man in the security line, told me he was going to Vegas with some friends.
“Been a rough year,” he said.
To go to that town? Must have been.

But I didn’t judge really, he seemed classy enough, and overworked. He was very pleasant, and wished me a safe journey.

Then I spazzed out a little, security lines make me nervous, and thanked myself for remembering to put my make-up in a clear bag this time. However, I foolishly buried it at the bottom of my bag. So as I bent on the ground in my dress clearly embarrassing myself, this girl behind me brought back my level of INDIE confidence –

“This is such a weird question, I’m sorry, but like, do you have anymore plastic bags in there?”

I gave her a stop&shop bag, thought it would help, and smiled. She was so embarrassed but I told her I generally always ask the weird questions of strangers (journalist, and weirdo), I was more than happy to help.

She had to be inspected randomly, got yelled at for keeping her coat on and lost a lot of her liquid shampoos and such. Poor girl.

I’m sitting her now anyway, waiting for my flight to Altanta to bored. I’m excited just thinking about who I can meet there.

3.11.09 (later)

Met Dad and his friend for dinner, a lovely woman, and got tipsy off of so much beautiful red wine. I missed him, it’s been nice.

3.12.09 (currently)

Think I am sick, but I am happy. I came to a conclusion earlier this morning in talking to a friend on AIM (how technological of me!). I rush through my life. And I’m nineteen! I expect so much of others, and consequentially myself. I want to slow down.

Drove for nine hours with my Dad today, only made it to the NC and VA border. We’re staying in a hotel now and it’s lovely fun. We always did get along. And it’s nice having a break to myself.

In a nice finality, I settled some issues with an ex, over a cigarette and some tears on the phone. But everything felt much better when he urged me to “get some sleep” and wanted to help me out.

I hope that doesn’t mean more analysis of me, THE ENIGMA! (or so I glorify my stupid bullshit).

I don’t want it to be that way this time. Or ever again. In talking to my dear friend, and him asking how things were, given the crazy circumstances of the week, I just realized – I am good.

I am driving with my Dad, things are slow and complacent there. Talking, driving, music, America. Memories and analysis.

I’m going to be okay. I think I am already. With the minor road bumps.

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