Abby and I, Christmas 2009
The last 3 Christmases have been a triathalon in attempting to simply get home. Here's a review:
In 2009 my parents were in the Philippines (!) with my brother, so Abby and I travelled all the way to Pennsylvania, drove home through a snow storm, pitt-stopped in North Carolina with friends, and ended up spending Christmas day on the farm in Statesboro Georgia. But travelling so much with our immediate family apart made Abby and I feel utterly splinched.
In 2010 I arranged to fly home on the 19th of December, but Scotland (and London) ended up being barraged by snowstorms. My friend Alex and I woke up at 4 am to get our flights home, only to find them cancelled. We waded through airport lines for 4 hours. I found the best thing to do was to get a flight from London and the soonest flight was on Christmas Eve. So I jumped on a train down to London only to have the lines go down due to snow! After 4 days at the complete kindness of the Goodisons, I flew home just in time for Christmas.
This year (2011) I've had to send my passport to the UK Border Agency to extend my visa. Unfortunately my passport didn't arrive in time for my flights on [this past] Saturday. After 2 days frantically attempting to arrange details, I've worked out (hopefully) to get an emergency passport to let me home for Christmas and changed my flights to Wednesday.
It's about getting home. It's waiting in telephone queues and airport check-in lines. It's the packing and choosing choice presents. It's the feeling of bliss to walk into home all decorated for Christmas smelling of baking and a crackling fire. I think some people are adventure prone. Prone to things happening to them. It includes the marvelous and the mundane, but it is never boring.
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