I am HOME!!!
FINALLY. It really did take forever. We (Brian and I) were supposed to leave Friday morning, but checking the flight loads Thursday night, realized that would probably be impossible. Because of Lane, I get free tickets and Brian got a discount, but we're on standby, which normally, isn't a problem since there are always a couple seats open. What we didn't realize was that it's Memorial Day Weekend, which is also when a lot of private schools have their graduations. All of this essentially means that the airport was crowded like it's never been crowded before. So we rescheduled for Saturday, which seemed okay. We got up early, went with Robert to have our last meal at Val, then HEAVED all my stuff (I'm sorry I had so much stuff!!) to the bus stop, where we boarded the sketchy, but comparatively inexpensive Gotta go Taxi.
The dirty, old van pulled up, revealing a female driver and a man in the passenger seat. Wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, sporting a small mustache, and speaking in fast, short spurts during which he seemed determined to assert his authority, the man came off very much like an uneducated, sleazy person who despite his lack of education, was convinced of his own intelligence and knowledge. Our actual driver, a blonde woman in her early 30s whose every movement exuded fatigue and hesitation, seemed rather irritated with him. We were to drop him off on the way to the airport. While loading my suitcase and box onto the van, the male driver joked that the TSA would be convinced that my cardboard box was a bomb, to which Robert replied that it was unlikely because I didn't look like a terrorist. This made me remember the time I was pulled aside for a random check during which all my books, particularly "Romeo and Juliet" were wiped down and tested. Such a waste of valuable time and taxpayer money, if you ask me, but that's an argument for another time. We bid our rather sad goodbyes to Robert, who stood rather wistfully and watched us, the last of the group except him, drive away.
The man immediately tried to overcharge us (no such luck), and spent the entire 15 minutes he was with us talking to the driver, who replied with faint, monosyllabic answers if at all. Apparently, he had been the last driver of the van and was supposed to refill the tank, which he failed to do.
"I'm going to have to stop for gas," said the driver quietly, almost to herself.
Immediately, the man responded, "No you don't. You'll be fine. Just take them there and get gas on the way back."
She nodded, but then protested, "But there's no where to get gas on that stretch."
Before she even finished her sentence, he cut across her, seemingly irritated at her continual refusal to take his word, "You can get gas in Springfield."
When the driver again wondered a few minutes later if there would be traffic, he again cut her off and patronizingly told her not to worry.
Needless to say, she was extremely relieved to drop him off, muttering an apology at having to put up with him to us under her breath. She then asked me if I was Chinese and proceeded to tell me about her daughter, who is half Chinese, and is trying to learn the language at school and with her grandparents. After apologizing profusely that we had to stop for gas, she showed me pictures of her daughter, who I would completely have assumed was Hispanic had she not told me she was half white and half Chinese. She told me all about her husband, who could understand but not speak Chinese, and her in-laws, who had immigrated from Taiwan.
We drove past Chicopee, which is a city not so far away, and Brian, who had been quiet this entire time while I made conversation with the driver, suddenly said, "My parents used to go to Chicopee for Korean food." His dad went to UMass back in the day, so they were familiar with the area, and I spent the next few minutes teasing Brian about the cute Korean accent he had when he said "Chicopee."

We boarded the flight to Hartford without problems, and as we were waiting to get off the plane, we noticed something moving inside a small, black duffel bag with perforated sides--a tiny puppy!! It was a tiny, baby French bulldog whose new owner had flown especially from Atlanta to Hartford to buy. It was the cutest little thing. Pure white and probably scared out of its mind that all these strange people were cooing at it after this long, turbulent ride.

Once we got off, we were supposed to get on an connecting flight an hour later. However, the airport was more crowded than I'd ever seen it before, and there was no way we were getting on these flights. We "stood by" for about six flights to every airport in Southern California, even San Diego. But it was hopeless. Brian and I read HP7 on my computer, listened to music, ate overpriced food, moved from gate to gate, and slept to pass the time, but alas, it was no use. My dad and Lane both kept calling to try and figure out what was going on, but it was inevitable: we spent the night in the airport. Airports at night are very strange, almost eerie places. It's very odd to see a place that's so packed with movement and chaos with hundreds of people bent on getting from one location to another, a place that by definition is never a destination but always a conduit, be silent and empty. Other than security guards and custodial staff, the place was completely empty, lights dimmed. They waste a LOT of electricity though. They don't turn any of the television screens that tell you flight information off and Starbucks doesn't turn off its music or the lights. We found an empty, relatively quiet gate and pulled two rows of chairs together, trapping all our luggage underneath it. Brian was very proud of his engineering feat which (hopefully) ensured that no one could steal our stuff, and we went to sleep. Brian proposed us taking sleeping shifts to ensure that no one stole our things, but obviously, that wasn't going to work. I fell asleep almost immediately. The security guard was really nice and gave us blankets, and in many of the other gates, you could see luggage handles peeping out from beneath the seat backs, and occasionally, a head, so we weren't the only ones spending the night in the lovely airport.
We finally got on a flight in the morning for Orange County, after spending 27 hours on the road and 18 hours in Atlanta airport. I almost felt sorry for us until I overhead one woman with her two noisy kids who had been waiting for a flight for four days. We FINALLY arrived in Orange County, California at 9:45 in the morning. My dad picked me up and commented on how young Brian looked, and thought that he looked like a spy/CIA agent, which I found infinitely amusing. We drove straight to LAX to pick up my wayward luggage, stopped at the Chinese restaurant we always go to, gorged myself on rice and fish and other Chinese deliciousness, and FINALLY got home. Yay for home!

Home looks.. the same. It's extraordinary how it all just fits, how you can move from one life to another seamlessly, how even if you don't consciously remember something, your body does. For example, I always put my shampoo and my conditioner on different sides of the shower, but I can't actually remember which ones go on which side. My dad had moved them, so I went to put them back and didn't know which one to put where. I guess I put them on the wrong sides, because I went for the conditioner when I was supposed to use shampoo, and then after recognizing my mistake but not moving them, I went for the shampoo as the conditioner. Oh the chains of habit.

Last night, Kathleen invited my dad and I over to dinner, and her mom made all my favourite foods. It was so touching. Having not really talked to Kathleen for months, it was awesome to see her and talk to her again, of course, and we picked up without any awkwardness, any hesitation, any hint of the long separation. I love Kathleen. :) I showed her pictures of all my friends, of Amherst, videos from random things. We watched really, really embarrassing videos that we made a long time ago, most of which involve me making a fool of myself. And then Kathleen tried to feed me until I exploded. That seems to be the trend. I was dragged to Monterey Park today with my dad and his friends instead of hanging out with Shayne before he left again. Boo!!