11 January 2010

Interludium vor Irland

continuation: more ICE action. puh, trains rides are nothing after last night. =) i was fairly early for the flight, possibly out of fear that i would attract more abnormal happenings. it crosses my mind for a split second, what it would be like in Ireland speaking English with family. again, a dash of fear.

as i wait to get my boarding pass, there are several English speaking people conversing around me. i clam up and make no effort to talk. we are waiting in line and an Irish man behind me is very agitated and is bitching about a woman in front Chatty Cathy-ing her bullshit all over the poor attendant. she is quite hideous; an older woman (and not with a good body) wearing a 20something's clothes. that in itself was bad enough that i shied away from the negative attitude of the Irish man. after a few minutes i feel like a complete zombie from the mixture of lack-of-sleep, waiting in line and completely not being myself by being so silent around people i can actually talk to. fuck it. he's still ranting about her and fidgeting all over the place. i open my mouth. "as if she didn't LOOK bad enough already." insert a few awkward steps and then the basic introductions. welcome my new friend, Frank.

who's Chatty Cathy now? i was still pretty reserved. i had no idea what to think of all this. i enjoyed all the conversations i had on the road trip this summer, but in this moment, i had a lot of fear that i would be throwing away my German experience and going back to old habits; just being the same person, with no personal development. fuck it. lose yourself in your typical blur of being interested in everything, Sabrina.

Frank had just moved into Frankfurt at the beginning of December. he was an older dude, so plenty of life experience, which i always love interacting with. there was really too much to remember, as the conversation bounced around like a ferret on crack. i threw in my two cents here and there, but just went with his flow for the most part.

i was hoping to get a Döner or something, but that's typical of a train station, not an airport, and the only thing open by our gate was Burger King and the line was around the corner. still, we found a table to sit at and Frank offered me a ham sandwich that he was not going to eat. perfect. the only thing missing was a beer to help me cope with shock of so much English.

an hour or so later, i give him a business card and we go about our separate ways on the plane. omg, so... much... English! i clung on to snippets of German i could manage to hear, but to no avail. somewhere in the ride, i started talking to a military man and an Irish dude about my age. i think that somewhere in the mess i was missing hearing my parents and their Army talk, while at the same time wondering when Jonathen was getting back from Iraq and when Martin was going and if my dad would really catch a cargo flight over and why my mom never hinted at doing the same, etc.

somewhere in the middle of our conversation, a flight attendant comes up and asks me if i have a friend on the front row. what the fuck do i say? "uh, yeah, uh, i know someone in first class?" the attendant had a funny look on his face as he hands me a bottle of champagne with a plastic cup and a scrap of paper with a note scribbled on it. the dudes get funny looks on their faces and then (sure that the surprise on my face is the funniest of them all) i chuckle, stick the note in my pocket and open the bottle.

why the hell do i sometimes feel that i am a normal, boring person?

the military man and the Irish dude were fun. for the umpteenth millionth time i have to explain my family in Ireland in relation to me and Eva going to high school together and me studying abroad. it's like a taped recording by now, but at least the Irish dude knew exactly where Roundwood is and was tickled that i was going there. there was an announcement that the plane was about to land. i was given half the leftovers of a strong cider/whiskey mixture. we toasted to Christmas Eve and then went through the mess of lines in Customs.

needless to say, i had a bit of buzz. i grew anxious waiting for Eva since it was my first time in a while relying on other people. no worries. she and Liah showed up big grins and many hugs. oh my, sometimes i forget that Liah was only 5 years old when i first met her and now her driver's license is in the mail! i recapped my insanely long day and the randomness of the plane ride and Eva just smiled and said, "We're meeting the family at a pub."

insert a blur of neverending introductions similar to being an exchange student in Germany. wow. me and Deirdre were so excited about finally seeing each other in person. it was delightful to see Sarah Louise again. Kevin was his same drunken self. Keith, oh dear. the pub was packed. i have no idea how many pints of Guinness i drank. father/son clash on the car ride home. memories of the house on the river, bonfires, Jacinta's cooking, a herd of golden retrievers, late night singing, four people to a bed... what a wonderful end to a crazy day. after 45 minutes into the country, i plopped myself into bed and passed the fuck out!

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