Day Ninety One

What I did on my spring break - a reflection.

What did I do? Drove, mostly. I spent Saturday teaching Johnstown and fixating on weird late 80s early 90s anti drug propaganda. I'd planned to go home that night but was way too tired at the end of the day. I went back to IUP, slept it off, then left first thing Sunday morning. Thank. God.

Got to Mom's around dinner time. The dogs lost it and ran out front to say hi as soon as I got there. I'm reminded of the times I'd fall asleep on the couch downstairs waiting for Mom to bring Amy home from the airport :) We watched "Taking Chance" which is one of the biggest tear jerkers I've ever seen. Trying to explain the movie to my Grandmom made me feel like a wimp but wow, if you've seen it you know... geez. So sad. Anyway, after that we had cheese steaks. And I just realized half of said cheese steak is still sitting in the fridge. At my Mom's house. Boo. 

Monday I had plans to see an allergist then spend time with the Bechtels but it wasn't happening. When I left IUP on Sunday it was 45 and sunny (which is like 70 anywhere else). As I got close enough to Philly to pick up the local stations, I found out the east coast was expecting a freak snow storm over night. My Dad called to warn me and joked that I brought the bad weather with me. Overall from what I saw we got around 8 inches. Poor Oscar is not a snow dog. Abby however was having a blast. The allergist wasn't in his office because of the weather, but when I finally did get a hold of someone, I found out it didn't matter. The allergy test I have to take requires you to be off any allergy drug with an antihistamine for at least 7 days beforehand. And it takes 3 visits to finish the test. I had rehearsal on Thursday so it wasn't happening. I'd just get it done out here but no one takes my Philadelphia health insurance. Darn it Western PA. 

Tuesday I went down to Chichester and had dinner with my Grandmom, Vern, Dad, and Robin. I'm really glad they were able to get together. My Dad and Robin live an hour south of Chichester, and I know she likes having people over but I can't help but feel like I'm imposing on my Grandmom having her make dinner for three extra people. Rob's back has been bothering her a lot lately so two hours in the car is a big deal. I'm really glad we all got to see each other though. I get so homesick. I stayed until past 8pm just rambling on with them. 

Wednesday? Try to guess...

Can you see her? Look at the center, in the distance...

What's that in front of the mini van?

Oh, hey.

Yeah I went up and saw him. You know how women have that hormone that makes them forget all the terrible stuff from being pregnant, so later on they want to have more kids? I believe there is a similar hormone dwelling in those who rarely visit new york but live close enough to drive there. The drive should only take about two hours. Then you leave jersey and realize the disaster you've gotten yourself into. Did I mention this was around 3:30 on a weekday? The last six miles of the trip took an hour and a half. I began to hate my impulses and question my judgement. Until I saw that face. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, it had been worth the trip...

Until I saw this sign...

Be sure to take note of the extreme sun glare, and remember that I was driving west. You can't read it because of the sun, which was punishing me for what felt like hours, but this sign reads "Welcome to MANHATTAN." 

My face read, "Oh shit." 

I left Wengert's at 4:30. On a weekday. Then drove through Manhattan. To get out of new york. And into new jersey. I know someone is reading this right now and cringing. Can I get a hell yeah? I no longer questioned my judgement. I knew, with a very deep and powerful confidence, that I was a fucking moron. I love my gps to death but I wish it knew to avoid high traffic areas. Like the entire tri-state area. I could have tap danced off of that island faster. It took over two hours to get from Brooklyn to the Holland tunnel. The entire way I was trying my best not to cry. I felt so guilty for cutting my aready limited family time short. My trips home have become more stress than break because I just don't have enough time to see everyone I want to see. I wind up cutting it short with almost everyone I do get to see, or flat out not seeing people at all. I feel terrible. I hope my friends and family know that I am trying and I hate letting them down... 

Chris and I wound up lost here the first time we went into the city together. If you look at the white sign with red lettering, you can see it translated to "CHAMP". I remember trying to get a picture of it to send to Andrew as Wengert frantically searched his hand held map of new york city. I could see the frustration and panic building in his face. Did I mention this is about a five minute drive from his front door in Brooklyn? We wound up here after about 45 minutes on the train. 

The drive to IUP from the new york area is depressing. It isn't very well lit, and for most of the trip you feel like you're driving through someone's back yard the entire time. I spent about one and a half of the seven hours it took to get back to IUP crying and feeling sorry for myself. I didn't want to leave home. I didn't get to say goodbye to my Mom. I already missed my dogs. I kept thinking about my grandmother being on insulin and my dad losing weight (which is good for him and he's doing it in a healthy way but still scary) and robin's back. I didn't even get to see my sister or any of my friends and I still felt like I spent the entire break in my car. But at least I wasn't this guy...

Oh shit, that car's on fire. The car was empty and I was at a traffic light, but I still felt like a creeper taking those pictures. I had been looking forward to getting back to IUP in time to catch Lost with friends, but because manhattan came and ate two hours of my day, everyone was asleep by the time I got back into town. I don't blame them. I finally got to 422 and started spacing out. I glanced out my window and saw the only constellation I can identify. I noticed how clear the skies are out here and considered the short list of redeeming qualities this town has. But who needs the stars when you can go inside and fall asleep next to someone you love? I've never been so content just listening to someone breathe. Or in my case, listening to the sleep burp concerto featuring the "I'm-a whoop yo fuckin ass" orchestra. Big ups to Brooklyn.