I fuckin hate flyin, I fuckin hate the holidays, and don't fuckin look at me!
Plane trips are a funny thing. You sit squished together with all these people you don't know, wearing god awful clothing, and coughing god knows what kind of bacteria on the side of their face because they don't know how to use a goddamn napkin!
Since flying out to Stanford, I can say I haven't been home that much. I dont go home for Thanksgiving; mostly because we don't celebrate it but also b/c there is no way in hell i'm enduring a 6 hour flight only a couple days apart. I do go home for winter break though, mostly b/c its a long break, and also b/c they kick people out of the dorms. I went home over the summer once after freshman year.. after that I decided never to do it again. And thats about it. So i've been back home what 5 times since I've graduated college? As you can see, I'm not the homesick type.
In anycase, this was the first holiday season that I didn't technically have to come home. But its so automatic for me to do so that I felt I should. I mean my mom has long since told me that Santa doesn't exist and if I want that video game (a much younger elsie requested such things) it didnt matter if it was june, it counted as my christmas present. Now my mother refuses to even feign interest in the holidays.. So I guess I come home to make sure my family looks the same, friends are still friends, and to witness the cold assness called Winter in NY. I guess this time I also came home b/c I'm finafreakinly 21 so I can go out in tha citay.
Well all this in mind I booked my trip for a week at home. And as soon as I got on that airplane I wondered.. did i really need to go home? My mom probably still looks the same, my brother.. a little taller maybe.. friends are always friends.. i hate the cold.. and if i wanted to see snow i could have just gone to friggin tahoe.
I HATE flying. I don't hate it b/c I fear my plane is going to crash.. although I do have dreams of that happening, but after the 20th time I figure its just nerves and not a real omen. I hate flying b/c for at least 5 and a half hours i've gotta be sitting next to mr. or mrs. who knows who from who knows where and their fuckin loud ass kids. The chair isnt big enough for me to really relax, I have no leg room, the air is recycled and by the third hour starts to burn my noise along with the smelly ass gas from the passenger in front of me. I friggin hate it! Oh and flying during the holidays! At least during random times there is the chance that you can have a row all to yourself. But during the holidays flights are always packed. And this time lucky me I got to sit next to some old asian guy with HORRIFIC breath who couldnt speak English, so when I was pulling stuff out of the overhead to get to my laptop case he had the NERVES to hit my shoulder when one of the items were his. Dont touch me mo fo! You don't knooooow me! Sigh..
Not to mention this time I dressed extra bummy as I'm sick of the gawking and they "yo, shorty" 's i'm sure to get once I get to new york, or any city outside of san fran for that matter. Yet still nasty old men used their eyes to pierce through my "STANFORD" sweatshirt and imagine what my boobies look like. "They're a size 34C ho bag! If you don't have a new vicky c's bra in your luggage for me, keep walking!"
But then I get home and its warm! There is food everywhere! (mostly take out) Beverages galore! And for once, my family ISNT fighting. Oh I'm in heaven! My mom cracks me up about how my brother told her she's too old to be listening to lindsay lohan and Bow wow. My brother cracks me up by pronouncing General Tso's chicken weird. Ahh how I missed these moments. I'm home. Warm house, warm bed, warm food, and warm family love.
Now all I have to do is drop it like its hot in one club or another in NYC and I'm set for another year.
Since flying out to Stanford, I can say I haven't been home that much. I dont go home for Thanksgiving; mostly because we don't celebrate it but also b/c there is no way in hell i'm enduring a 6 hour flight only a couple days apart. I do go home for winter break though, mostly b/c its a long break, and also b/c they kick people out of the dorms. I went home over the summer once after freshman year.. after that I decided never to do it again. And thats about it. So i've been back home what 5 times since I've graduated college? As you can see, I'm not the homesick type.
In anycase, this was the first holiday season that I didn't technically have to come home. But its so automatic for me to do so that I felt I should. I mean my mom has long since told me that Santa doesn't exist and if I want that video game (a much younger elsie requested such things) it didnt matter if it was june, it counted as my christmas present. Now my mother refuses to even feign interest in the holidays.. So I guess I come home to make sure my family looks the same, friends are still friends, and to witness the cold assness called Winter in NY. I guess this time I also came home b/c I'm finafreakinly 21 so I can go out in tha citay.
Well all this in mind I booked my trip for a week at home. And as soon as I got on that airplane I wondered.. did i really need to go home? My mom probably still looks the same, my brother.. a little taller maybe.. friends are always friends.. i hate the cold.. and if i wanted to see snow i could have just gone to friggin tahoe.
I HATE flying. I don't hate it b/c I fear my plane is going to crash.. although I do have dreams of that happening, but after the 20th time I figure its just nerves and not a real omen. I hate flying b/c for at least 5 and a half hours i've gotta be sitting next to mr. or mrs. who knows who from who knows where and their fuckin loud ass kids. The chair isnt big enough for me to really relax, I have no leg room, the air is recycled and by the third hour starts to burn my noise along with the smelly ass gas from the passenger in front of me. I friggin hate it! Oh and flying during the holidays! At least during random times there is the chance that you can have a row all to yourself. But during the holidays flights are always packed. And this time lucky me I got to sit next to some old asian guy with HORRIFIC breath who couldnt speak English, so when I was pulling stuff out of the overhead to get to my laptop case he had the NERVES to hit my shoulder when one of the items were his. Dont touch me mo fo! You don't knooooow me! Sigh..
Not to mention this time I dressed extra bummy as I'm sick of the gawking and they "yo, shorty" 's i'm sure to get once I get to new york, or any city outside of san fran for that matter. Yet still nasty old men used their eyes to pierce through my "STANFORD" sweatshirt and imagine what my boobies look like. "They're a size 34C ho bag! If you don't have a new vicky c's bra in your luggage for me, keep walking!"
But then I get home and its warm! There is food everywhere! (mostly take out) Beverages galore! And for once, my family ISNT fighting. Oh I'm in heaven! My mom cracks me up about how my brother told her she's too old to be listening to lindsay lohan and Bow wow. My brother cracks me up by pronouncing General Tso's chicken weird. Ahh how I missed these moments. I'm home. Warm house, warm bed, warm food, and warm family love.
Now all I have to do is drop it like its hot in one club or another in NYC and I'm set for another year.
posted by GyangBang | 10:36 PM
2 Comments:
My unlucky number is, oddly 444, I saw it three times before boarding a plane from Dublin to London the other day and sat shitting myself through the whole flight! Try and have a good xmas!
I hear they let you smuggle firearms and explosives onto planes these days. Try that, and then next time someone gets a little sloppy going for the overhead - BANG!!! Haha! :-)
~ Jon
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