Me: Oh wow, they still make those, I forgot they exist!
Server: So, you'll have one then?
Me: Pft! I'll have two.
On Monday we drove from DC to Columbus with Sebastien's parents, who helped us pack up our storage space back that way. We should each get to be our favorite ninja turtles for the amount of effort and martial awesomeness it required to finish those Herculean endeavors. It's cheesy to say, but when all four of us were balancing a mattress on our head and walking it towards a truck, I couldn't help but feel like we were making a moment. Dibs on Raphael.
I knew we'd be spending the weekend in the District, so about a month ago I arranged for a really good friend of Sebastien's to be in town as a surprise. I'm typically pretty terrible at keeping this sort of excitement to myself--so I'm proud to say that although every single person who would listen to me knew about it, Sebastien had no idea Jon would be there when we met up with the Georgetown crew for a happy hour last Thursday.
DC is something special. Seb and I walked from L'Enfant Plaza to Tenleytown--crossing the National Mall and stopping for BBQ in Glover Park. The moisture level that day was palpably different from anything we've encountered in Paris thanks to all those beautiful trees and 1800 years of progress in city planing. I had honestly forgotten what fresh cut grass smelled like. One of our our best friends, Brad, not only picked us up from the airport, not only let us crash at his new apartment with his fiance in Maryland, but actually woke us up on our first day back in the States to a pancake breakfast. A pancake breakfast! With real Vermont Maple syrup. Honestly, Brad is amazing and we are so happy for him and the woman he chose to share his life with.
|Plus, they live near a lake!|
Leaving Paris was not an easy task. Putting aside taxis, bag limits and weird rules for mailing books and I still had to not cry when we said goodbye to all the amazing friends we've made. At any given moment from now until I die, I might dream of you, or smile when I think of something you said. If you're reading this, and you know that I'm referring to you, also know that my door is always open. No matter where I am in the world, I've got at least a couch for you. You're invited. We'd love to host you.
We counted and realized that we had 25 different roommates from 11 separate countries over a two year period. Excepting of course Sebastien, I didn't have a say in a single one who came or went. But we all did our best and made it work. Along the way I think I really learned what it means to be a good coloc. I was a much messier person before moving in with all of them. I understand now that I'm happier if I just assume people have no idea their behaviors would upset me. This is important for two reasons, reason one--they probably don't have any idea nor any ill intentions, and Reason two-- even if they do, I can survive it. The sooner I gave up on the small stuff the more time I had for fun with them. Especially at the end. I say end now because it's actually over and that mostly doesn't bother me. But there was a twinge of something earlier today when I needed a few lemons and realized there aren't three fruit vendors on the street below my non-existent balcony anymore. And therein lies the lesson: sometimes life gives you lemons and sometimes they're taken away. But even then, there's usually still sugar.
|Merci, Jack le Black|
The Paris gang thew us an amazing party where they gifted us with an Eiffel tower covered in little notes and well wishes. Sebastien felt the need to wear it on his head because of reasons. I would be sadder about leaving all of their awesomeness behind if this was a different epoch where people wrote with feathers and got around by horse or boat. In such a world it would be easy to imagine I'd never see these good folks ever again. But those restraints have gone the way of the dodo, and the Myspace.
We flew Iceland Air. Since we were only able to spend a limited amount of time in Reykjavík, I made sure to watch two films in the native language.
The first film was actually mislabeled as Sumarlandið which had the word elf several times in the synopsis but was actually the film, Brúðguminn about a middle age philosophy professor who thinks he might be marrying someone to justify his affair with her. The second film, Rokland was about an angry blogger who is sure that what Northern Iceland really needs is more German philosophy and less Coca-Cola
It's hard not to agree with both of them in principle.
The next few days we'll probably spend going through boxes and figuring out which items are worth buying plastic crates for and which would be better off on the curb. Much to my chagrin, I didn't leave our pizza roller for our flatmates. But in other news I've decided to get rid of a lot of vintage tee shirts. Primarily because I rarely wear them, but mostly because there are cool kids all over Columbus who will call every Melissa in lumpyspace.
I plan on posting more regularly and listening to the Eye of the Tiger a lot in my head because I'm ready for the month of June like Little Mac was ready for Tyson. Actually, his song was better. Yeah, I'll be humming that.