#8

I habitually approach Chicago O’Hare airport these days as small, crunchy mammals, with a certain sense of fatalism, do jungle cats. With dread, but also with a sense of wry curiosity about just how it’s going to go down. I have spent, to date, four separate nights on the floor of O’Hare airport. As I have told many a friend, in my life, the cheeseburgers at the McDonalds they have there literally taste of long delays.

And yet, after all this time I can still report that the gods are not only crazy they are fiendishly creative. The cause of my five hour delay—post-getting on the plan—this time? Well, it’s cold in Chicago. As it always is, this time of year, making you wonder why exactly someone decided that the perfect thing for one of the world’s worst weather cities was a huge international transport hub. And in the process of putting fresh water in the plane’s latrines, the hose froze solid to the tank. So they had to get a heater out, and then, since the hose hadn’t completed its grisly task by the time it went de-com, get another out there. Of course, if you thought that was the end of the airplane’s troubles, you don’t know me and Chicago.

Considering hose dethawing, hose replacement steps 1, and 2:

Step 3: Pull away from the gate!

Step 4: Engine light goes on. It’s probably nothing but we have to go back to reset some control panel stuff. Kind of peeved, but recognize that “engine warning light” and “seven hour flight” don’t sound so good no matter how you write the sentence.

Step 5: This one’s actually to congratulate myself: I begin to wonder, as we reset, how much fuel we’ve spent wandering around the airport like some kind of giant, collective Jimmy Valvano. Turns out a lot, and we need to refuel

Step 6: Pull away from the gate!

Step 7: Engine light comes back on. We’ll go back and get that thing fixed.

Step 8: Ragnarok, end of times, dogs and cats living together.

Everything up to step 7 was 100% true, step 8 about 85%.

I had a wonderful break. In certain senses made so by circumstances which I will not mention by name but now leaves me in some sadness, if bitter sweet for the sincere happiness it occasioned me, one of the least complicated or mixed I’ve known. It is very hard, sometimes, as a young person in a transitional stage that sometimes a more complete happiness is something you must simply believe to be waiting down the road, rather than be allowed to keep. Memory is a wonderful thing, and a useful balm, but if it was the same as holding in my hand there would be no pause to happiness, and there’d be nothing at all to be afraid of.

Still, emotion and convenience are not things that either do go hand and hand or should, inasmuch as the latter relies upon time and we never know what will happen. So courage, friends! Love what you cannot keep. And to anyone curious, if I got hit by a bus tomorrow, I’d have absolutely no regrets except for the little one about walking in front of that goddamn bus.

That’s mine. For yours, a number of Humorous and Diverting Incidents which Occurred, including:

-The continued adventures of Shadow the Dog, the most photographed creature on facebook, whose new 9 pm bedtime (in my parent’s bed) is not to be trifled with. Coupled with my parents’ new midnight bedtime it made for a somewhat disconcerting break. I’m pretty sure I used to have play chase with SOMEONE around 1 AM each night. Maybe it was the ‘rents after all.

-Learning that naps will often be punctuated (indeed, terminated) by expedient of high-speed canine-to-crotch impact

-The purchase of a new camera with exclusive “you tube” feature, creating perfectly formatted and sized videos for uploading to youtube! But you’ll never find the tapes, copper….

-A New Years reenactment of Steve’s most recent arrest, where we all showed up at his apartment dressed like midgets. No, not really. But now you people not in the know are wondering what exactly he did with midgets.

-A Guinness drinking competition with Steve which I lost soundly (6 to…8?)

-A Hamburger grilling competition with Steve which I won slimly (3 to 2. Don’t complain about the adverb, I’m neologism certified).

-Both Christi and Maggie wondering why Steve and I can’t just be friends

-Me salting the earth of Steve’s garden, so nothing will ever grow again

-Being outside, because it’s Texas and you can do that kind of thing in December

-Ragnarok, end of times, dogs and cats living together

My first day back I went to a riveting Mavericks game where, despite it being about 5 am Dublin time and my having been awake for around 30 hours straight, I definitely recall some kind of sport happening. Now the break seems to have passed in the same way: a very pleasant whirl; and still certainly one of the best games of the year. I’ll leave it short this time because this is technically supposed to be an Irish correspondent and I’d hate to be accused of straying from my balliwick (1, it’s nice and cozy, 2, I have no idea what one is), but deep love and warmest New Years greetings to all and off we go again. Our hands around the old bull’s throat.

Resolutely, tearfully, manfully,

A

Study questions: At what age do people stop asking you questions about what was your favorite this or that about an experience? For some reason I feel like adults don’t have to answer that kind of thing. It’s not that I really mind, it’s only that what X offers, with its similarly-sized drawbacks, can’t really be measured against Y because of its different texture (although one certainly has an extra fun-sized straight line).

No, seriously, why can’t children modulate the volume of their voices? Is that why voices crack? So self-loathing will teach you to keep it down once in a while?