I returned from my trip East late Monday night, and since then it has seemed like I’ve been trying to play catch up with life. Two days back into the workforce and I still feel like there is something I’ve forgotten, something I should unpack, and someone I’ve left behind.
Let’s call this Vacation Brain shall we?
Since my return I’ve tried valiantly to wrap my trip up, both in my head, and on this site. People continue to ask how it went and I never really know how to answer. “Umm great?!?!” seems to be doing the trick so far. My question is, would an answer like, “I had the best time. NYC was surprisingly normal, and turns out Yale is just another college town, but filled with more snobs and a free shuttle,” just make people uncomfortable?
Hmmm, I think it just might.
As I ponder things to fill my dear readers in on pertaining to my trip, my impulse is to write about how it is impossible not to get goose-bumps getting off your airport shuttle and seeing Grand Central Station looming before you. Maybe this would also be the time to share a picture I took as I was filled with the very awe I am trying desperately to articulate.
I could tell you how shocked I was at the sheer grime of New York City. Maybe about how after riding the subway I couldn’t help but feel that I needed a shower or a moist towelette sponge bath. Talk about how I’ve ridden the subway systems in London and Athens Greece, and how even getting lost in the Athens subway I never once thought to myself, “Shit. I just touched a wall, and now I’ll probably die of some undiagnosed subway disease.”
But then I think to myself, Why talk about that, it’s just grime.
Maybe I should I talk about how amazed I was at the stereotypical Yale Students. About how shocked I was that everywhere we went, and everywhere we loitered someone next to us was talking about their grant proposal, or reading the worlds largest text book, or lecturing their little sister on how when it came to colleges it was, “Ivy leagues or death.” Shit. You. Not.
But then again, I probably should leave that part out. Instead I’ll show you a pretty picture of Yale.
Should I mention how hilariously old womanly it was that LP and I couldn’t stop talking about the ‘good-o’l-days’ all weekend? Possibly fill you in on how we spoke about these seemingly far off events as if we’ve suddenly changed drastically from the binge drinking, chaos causing, theme party participating, freak shows we were back in college. Would it really be smart to tell you about the two hours we spent in the hookah bar taking GLAMOR SHOTS?
No, I definitely don’t want to do that. THAT would be embarrassing.
What about sharing with you a tale of a 2am trip to the drugstore for essentials after we’d closed down the Yale Graduate Student Bar? Would that be a good idea? Does sharing a picture like that scream MATURE ADULT?
From the looks of it, the only thing this picture really screams is STONED. But alas, there was no weed for this little lady. Turns out all you need to feel stoned is some hookah (but I will admit it seemed to be seriously strong hookah at that), and a vodka soda, or twelve, to give you those stoner hankerings that leave you reaching for a 2 lb container of cheese puffs, a snickers ice cream bar and some Dibs.
So I guess when it’s all said and done the only thing I can really tell you about my vacation as a whole is that it seems that we’ve gotten older for sure, but we definitely haven’t changed.