The flight to nowhere, chavs, and my perfect dog

It takes a special kind of person to have as horrific luck with traveling, particularly flights, as I do. If my flight isn’t cancelled, I have the flu. If I don’t have the flu, I get to wait in hours-long queues at passport control in order to declare that no, I don’t have random soil samples stashed among the duty-free crap I’ve bought on an impulse. Two out of the past four long-haul international trips have been flown with a crippling illness. But, Wednesday’s experience somehow puts all of my previous flights to shame.

I was initially supposed to fly back to Miami on 14^th March and spend four weeks in the air conditioning. That changed once I landed a job interview that I really couldn’t refuse, so I stuck it out in London for two weeks further sans money, plans, and sanity. That was fine. I survived.

But yesterday, I was supposed to fly from London to Boston, and then from Boston to Miami. My flight from Heathrow departed an hour and a half late –a delay I had no idea about because I had taken a verifiable cocktail of sleeping pills. Whatever, shit happens. The flight was on a miniscule airplane unsuited to fly from Fort Lauderdale to Orlando, but whatever. Shit happens. I was in the middle seat. Again, whatever.

What really gives American Airlines flight 109 the top prize in my 22 years of traveling is the fact that, around Greenland, something malfunctioning with the battery system caused the pilot to turn us around and fly us back to London. So nearly three hours of flying were completely wasted – hence the three-hour return to Great Britain. Then, apparently, we had too much fuel to land safely, so we spent another two and a half hours circling the Irish Sea before Heathrow air traffic control deigned to let us land.

Eight hours in the air, and we wound up back where we started.

Never mind the fact that it was brutally hot on board, or the fact that the plane was full of one of those horrible, raucous school groups en route to some overpriced trip. This group happened to be comprised mostly of smaller members of the cast of Geordie Shore and The Only Way of Essex. This group of chavs seems to have exhausted England’s entire supply of self-tanner and false eyelashes. Though one chavvy girl gave me a bag of potato chips when I went back to the flight attendants to beg for a snack. Props to her.

Of course, because we flew absolutely nowhere, I’m sure it was really necessary to send us through border control again, where they very rudely refused to stamp my passport because “I didn’t arrive from anywhere.” No shit. Give me a stamp.

American Airlines put us up in the Premier Inn by Heathrow. I had a Caesar salad and contemplated my life choices.

Basically sat quietly on my uneventful flight to Chicago, a land of cows and mullets, and had the world’s worst bagel and the world’s greatest coolatta at the O’Hare Dunkin Donuts. Was on a combination flight to Miami/Caracas (can someone explain how this is possible?), full of chongas in cowboy hats, and la reina de las chongas sat next to me, absolutely drenched in perfume. If you smell so rank that you have to use an entire bottle of perfume on yourself, you have problems, boluda.

It took two hours to get home in rush hour; South Florida radio is still as horrible as ever, and Toby, the teeniest of all the dogs in the world, remembered me. She is perfect and lovely and beautiful and wonderful and it’s like nothing ever changed. I sobbed hysterically upon seeing her – like, Kristen Bell and the sloth times about 1,000. It was perfect.

I had Chinese food and forgot to watch 30 Rock. Now I'm awake far to early because I get to do an audition news summary for News International. Murdoch was mostly mentioned in relation to Mad Men. This is going to suck.

I love this shitty place.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is what we call "purgatory"

I leave in 23 days. Am I ready? No. Am I remotely prepared for my MSc in Political Sociology? God, no. Do I understand sociological theory in the slightest? HA. Will I have crushing student debt for just a year of studying? In the words of the lesser Sarah P., you betcha!

I have the distinct feeling that studying abroad isn't going to be so unbearably light this time around.

BUT. I do have my visa and I FINALLY have a housing assignment. I also have a Hannah Arendt finger puppet to bring some unbearable lightness to this year of dense theories and repetitive readings. This, dear readers, is what we call a great success.

Winning London one unexpected acceptance at a time

'Ello, readers!

So you might have noticed that I haven't posted in a few months. It's partially because I'm no longer living a fabulous existence jet-setting around Europe, and also partially because I'm bored to death in Miami, and yeah. What's happened the past few months? Well, I've been trying to survive senior year. There have been a few close calls, but I'm still standing.

There was a time where I thought I'd be spending the year after graduating in Germany, and while that's still a slight possibility, there's something potentially even more exciting.

I've been accepted to grad school -- not just any grad school, either. Only my dream grad school in one of my favorite cities on earth.


Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to the London School of Economics. You may have guessed from the name (but a surprising number of people don't make the connection), but it's in London: London as in the capital of both England and the United Kingdom.



Guess who's going back to Europe this fall!

But yeah, any way, I have a conditional acceptance for the MA History of International Relations, the only conditions being that I, you know, actually graduate, and that I do so with a 3.5 overall, which I think is doable but really, finite math might thwart me yet. I decided that I don't really want History of International Relations so I've applied to change my degree to MSc Political Sociology, but even if I don't get in, I don't lose my original acceptance.

Song of the year:


Living the dream.

Get your towels ready; it's about to go down...

HI READERS!

So while I sit at home, die of boredom, and count the seconds until I'm back in Central Europe, I give you the latest and greatest in travel blogs: "one foot in sea and one on shore" or the blog currently known as KATEYBOAT.

Katey was my inimitable partner in crime last summer in New York and because we can never recreate the magic of summer '09, we're going our separate ways -- I'll be back in Prague (15 DAYS) and Katey will be on Semester at Sea's summer voyage around the Mediterranean! Which obviously means I hate her and am epically jealous, but as a good friend, I'm going to live vicariously through her wonderful, witty posts. You should too.

Hence, ladies and gentlemen, I give you KATEYBOAT.



(And scene.)

Every day a little death.

Was Sondheim thinking of Coral Springs when he wrote that song? I AM SO BORED.

My original goal was to read all the books I bought while abroad but there are far too many and any way, that requires the will to get out of bed and do something. Obviously that's a little too much to ask.

New goal? Learn Arabic. I'm all about feasibility, natch.

God, this place sucks.

The round-up

Sorry, guys. It’s been a long, long month that involved major illnesses, major hangovers, and major paper writing, so you didn’t get recaps of any of my final three trips. Luckily Coral Springs might be the most boring place on earth, so now I finally have time. Brace yourselves.

Turkey: The final Classroom Europe trip was to Istanbul, Turkey, possibly one of the coolest places ever. It was SUNNY AND WARM. Blah blah Hagia Sofia, Blue Mosque blah blah blah, IT WAS HOT AND SUNNY AND THEREFORE PERFECT. Turkish Airlines is decked out in Miami Vice-style colors, and the airplane wine rocks so I was perfectly happy. There are tulips everywhere and palm trees and the Mediterranean suddenly skyrocketed in my book. I roomed with Stephanie and Amanda and we got what was easily the best room in our awesome hotel: wrap-around balcony, views of the Blue Mosque and the Bosporous, and a Jacuzzi.

I kept trying to make comparisons to Jerusalem because it was heretofore the only place in the region I had been to before but it was too hard. The culture is kind of similar (everyone wants to feed you, always) but beyond that, it’s just too different. Istanbul is completely overwhelming and full of people and cars and noise and it’s fantastic but just kind of sensory overload. Did all the touristy stuff – Hagia Sofia, Blue Mosque, the stupid, overrated, overpriced Grand Bazaar – but I liked the Asian side of the city more, where it was more Turkish people and fewer Australian backpackers. Not that I don’t like Australian backpackers – I appreciate all citizens of the Commonwealth – but I like the less touristy parts of the city more. The Asian side of the city was super crowded and overwhelming and packed with people and we took a super-cool ferry to get there.

Everyone is super friendly, especially to girls. My trying to order takeaway coffee led to me and Amanda being invited to sit for coffee, ice cream, and Turkish delight by the Hagia Sofia for some time with a barista/soccer player. It’s incredibly rude to say no, so hey, what the hell, our tour group at Topkapi Palace would wait. Or not. But whatever. I got a few marriage proposals and a few phone numbers. Due to the possibility that I might have had pink eye, those numbers were never used, but it was nice.

Made it to Taksim Square where tons of police in riot gear were massing and because Samantha, Amanda and I didn’t speak any Turkish, we had no idea why. Turns out they were bracing themselves for a possible riot because President Obama was maybe/maybe not going to acknowledge the Armenian genocide, as it was the 95th anniversary of its inception (turns out he didn’t). I, for one, wanted to fulfill my lifelong dream of getting stuck in a nationalist riot but Samantha, as trip babysitter, wasn’t really feeling it. Wine happened instead, which is always a nice alternative. It was weird because the only women we ever saw out and about were European – Turkey is very secular but it’s still an Islamic society without the shariah law and all that fun stuff. Never saw Turkish women out at restaurants or anything, which was a bit disconcerting, but whatever.

England: Went to London for my birthday weekend: three shows, two days, one license to drink in EVERY STATE IN THE WORLD… except for the ones where alcohol is banned, but they don’t count.

The Real Thing, my Saturday matinee show, was one of the best productions I’ve ever seen, and that’s not just because Toby Stephens is outrageously hot and I had a front-row, center seat. It was beautiful and moving and three weeks later and I’m still a bit overcome by it, but two points to the Old Vic for a fantastic production.

Priscilla Queen of the Desert: I wasn’t as drunk as I hoped to be despite the strawberry daiquiri in my light-up martini glass, but the show was campy and fun and full of three of my favorite things: Australians, drag queens, and bad pop music. I loved it and can’t wait to see Will Swenson play Tick in New York.

Women Beware Women: No trip to London is complete without a pilgrimage to the National Theatre, home of my all-time favorite play, The History Boys. This one was even more special because this play starred Samuel Barnett, one of the original History Boys. I knew nothing about Jacobean drama but the play was fantastic, really sexy and also starring Dudley Dursey from Harry Potter so like my West Wing cast bingo, I can now check off another HP actor.

So I hoofed it to Victoria Station straight from the show, nearly missed my bus to Luton, made it to Luton, barely checked in on time, and oh wait, my flight’s delayed indefinitely due to volcanic ash. Cool. Oh, also, Wizz Air won’t let me board with my bag despite the fact that they said it was okay as a carry-on at check in. Douchebags. But whatever. Another $100 out the window. Wizz Air sucks, for the record, but God knows I’ll fly them again if I have to.

Germany: Went to Berlin (THIRD TIME) with Ryan for the day for the Lady Gaga concert. I’d tell you about the concert if I remembered any of it, but I don’t, so I’ll leave it at that. Forgot my camera battery in Prague so had the joyful experience of buying a new one at my handy electronics store at Potsdamer Platz. It was rainy and cold and I was dressed for weather that was 10 degrees warmer so it wasn’t a fantastic trip, but I made it to the villa at Wannsee so I at least got some history-dork cred out of it.

Prague: The last few weeks were miserable due to the impending end of the semester. I was sick and overtired a lot, and the volcanic ash kept Prague in an eternal winter of 40 degrees and rain, so I was really unhappy. I chose to write papers for all of my classes instead of taking final exams, so I found myself living in the Globe or Gloria Jean’s. I wrote 50-something pages total for four classes… 10 for Witness to History on the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, 18 for Classroom Europe on the German resistance under Hitler (8-10 pages were all that were required. I’m an overachiever, suck it), 7 for film that I really, honestly could not have cared less about, and 18 for Jewish history on anti-Jewish legislation in the Third Reich. To say that I’m exhausted now is the understatement of the century. Professor Holub, despite joking that I wrote a book, told me I should use my paper as the basis for my thesis so that was nice. It was refreshing to take history classes in which I actually learned something but UM wouldn’t be UM if I wasn’t outrageously frustrated by the crapiness of the history department.

Goodbyes sucked and I miss my friends immensely. The flight home was hellish because the night before I left, I suddenly came down with the Prague Plague and my (delayed) flight from Zurich to Miami consisted of me being too feverish/congested to read or watch TV, so I just listened to the same shitty music over and over again because I was too sick to work my iPod. I also thought I was going to get heat stroke with my sweatshirt on so I had the joyful experience of wearing a tacky Switzerland shirt I bought in Zurich. Everyone judged me. Damn you, classy Europeans. US customs also sucked because apparently I need to fill out 4,000 forms and then show them over and over again to different bitchy customs agents and apparently my baggage needs to be x-rayed because apparently I might be bringing in something sketchy from Central fucking Europe. Yeah, all that Czech garnet really needs to be declared. Suck it, Homeland Security. YEAH, I SAID IT. $20 says I’m now on the TSA watch list for that.

Coral Springs is outrageously boring and I’m beyond broke and still a little sick. I’m going back to Prague for summer session in t-minus 24 days but it won’t be the same without my friends. Maybe I’ll actually see the sun this time around? One can only hope.

Coral Springs, home of nothing

Big activity of the day: laying in bed and yelling "I'm bored" for ten minutes straight.

Who the hell would actually choose to live in a suburb? It's beyond my comprehension.

Home?

Samantha said a few months ago that I would wake up on May 23rd and think that the past few months were all a dream. Frankly, it didn't even take that long for me to start doubting that I had lived in Prague for four months and traveled all over the continent... an innumerable number of cities, 11 countries, and 2 continents, and all I have to show for it are passport stamps, five bags to unpack, and outrageous debt.

But I loved it. I loved every second of it, so much that I'm going back in a month. The sadness is debilitating. Prague - a place I was in maybe 30 hours ago - seems like a lifetime ago. Coral Springs never really felt like home anyway, and if home is where the heart is, it's Prague.