Hold me like you'll never let me go 'cause I'm leavin'

So, here I am.  In the airport cafe, sitting with my coffee in the smoking area.  I can tell I'm already homesick, since the only time I seek the comfort of second-hand smoke is when I really and truly miss my mother.  It's strange, because I just saw her this morning.  I was awakened at five in the morning by my traveling (best) friend, who wanted to sort out a few details before we left.  At five in the morning, my time.  I tolerated her texts once or twice, convinced that I could get back to sleep, until I realized that I certainly couldn't.  I love her enthusiasm, but felt as though my sleep were more important at that time.  The joke was clearly on me, since I couldn't get back to sleep after that little mini-conversation.  I was too wired.

I've been preparing for this trip for literally over a year.  The start of my fund for going was my tax return from 2009.  We've been planning and saving and looking forward to this crazy vacation for months.  The closer it got, though, the less I believed that it was real.  And this morning, it finally hit me.  I couldn't believe how much I still had to do.  Luckily, I ran most of my errands on Monday (I magically have a sleeping bag that fits in my backpack--amazing!), but I still needed to go to the bank, and calm down substantially before I was good for anything but jumping around my apartment like some sort of ridiculous woodland animal.  I have the backpack (Deva women's 60 litre, 2011 version), the clothing (mostly new stuff from my job, but who cares?), my notebook computer for keeping in contact with the people still in the states, my passport, and a large amount of money.  I think I'm prepared, but as I sit in the airport cafe, sipping my coffee and trying to ignore the stupid advertisements DIA tacks onto their "free" wifi to turn a profit, I can't believe that I'm closer to this life-defining experience than I've ever been.  It's one of those surreal moments right now, when you can't even really fathom the full weight of your decision.  I won't be in real contact with anyone I know for over a month.  In that time, I will visit thirteen countries via train and ferry and airplane.  I will meet scores of new people and see all the sights I've been imagining since 12th grade AP Art History class.

In other news, the coffee here is ridiculously overprices.  Okay, I know, airport food, duh, but I still feel a little ripped off.  Granted, the cup is the size of two of my fists, but I don't want to spend $1.50 on a silly cup of stale drip coffee.  I'm nervous.  This is the first time I'm traveling by myself since I was ten years old.  I'm usually the calm one, and the person I'm going with has the freak-out.  This time, there's no one to calm down.

So I woke up super early, and you'd think I did all my packing first thing.  No such luck.  I decided that my time would be better spent gathering everything, and then wasting time on facebook, and reading Garth Ennis's Preacher, which is surprisingly good.  And then Gill called me via Skype, and I finally heard her voice.  It's strange to think that we haven't talked--I mean verbally, because chat doesn't have the same effect--in over a year.  Crazy!  I couldn't see her because the camera on her computer was being strange, but she could see me in all of my unwashed glory.  We freaked out a bit about the couchsurfing people, who were all rejecting our overtures at their fold-out couches and air mattresses.  I'm not sure why, because we both made every effort to seem as harmless and friendly as possible.  Our profile picture shows two cute girls.  I have earmuffs.  She has thick black glasses.  No one who wore earmuffs or thick glasses was ever any harm!  Okay, maybe Malcolm X did some harm, but Hitler wasn't a glasses-wearer, and I'm sure he wouldn't deign to even buy a pair of earmuffs for Eva Braun.  We look harmless!  And still no one would consent to take us into their home.  So we freaked out together for a while, wrote a host of other requests, and finally I told her I needed to go shower.  My stench was getting to me.

Instead of showering right away, I decided to go to the gym to calm down.  That usually helps, but I've recently begun reading while on the elliptical, with mixed results.  On the one hand, I never bother looking at the amount of time I've been working out, since my books are always interesting.  On the other, I end up procrastinating on going anywhere else because my books are so unbelievably interesting.  I'm almost finished with Wiseguys, which I decided to bring with me and probably leave at Gill and Diogo's place since I'll have finished it in about an hour and a half of dedicated reading.  I also decided to bring Breakfast at Tiffany's, Dharma Bums, and two other books I can't reach at the moment.  So much for my "strict limit" of three.  I should've known that I would never actually only pack three books for the month.  Oh well.

So I got back from the gym, and it was 3.  My dad was picking me up at five to go to the airport, and I still needed to shower and go to the bank.  I showered, meanwhile packing my bathroom things and negotiating loads of laundry.  When I finally looked at the clock, it was 4:40.  I still needed to go to the bank and get back to my house in time for my dad to pick me up, so I needed to hurry.  I dressed, did my makeup (bien sur!) and got to the bank.  And the teller was taking, literally, forever!  I thought I would strangle him.  His client before me was Hispanic, and they were having language issues.  Also, the teller was having synapse issues.  Clearly, this wasn't a new state of affairs for him.  Luckily, the other teller was the kind Russian woman whom I know.  She's seen the profusion of jobs I hold down and heard about my trip, and I think she decided I would be a good influence on her son.  Either way, I gave her my number for him with instructions not to call before the fourth of May, when I return from Europe.  She finished first, in spite of the difficult client, and helped me.  It's amazing knowing another language; you instantly feel connected with the people whom you share it with.  She wished me well, and even suggested I call the customer service line at Wells to inform them that I'd be out of the country and might use my debit card in case of emergencies. 

When I got home, my dad was waiting in front of his truck.  I'd forgotten my phone on the charger at home, of course.  I still needed to pack my backpack.  I invited my dad up, and started throwing carefully-folded items haphazardly into the pack.  It reached capacity surprisingly soon.  I had to leave behind a sweater, a jacket, a pair of pants, and a pair of shorts.  The pack weighs around 26 pounds, which is good for carry-on on the airplanes we're taking from Warsaw to Athens, and from Porto to London.  We left by 5:30, which was apparently on schedule according to my dad (he knows me pretty well, and probably assumed that I'd be running late), and I only realized that we were going to the airport when I was in the car and we were halfway there. 

Security was a breeze.  There literally wasn't a single person in front of me.  The lady behind me had a cross, and it made me wonder how many otherwise-secular people travel with religious iconography.  I made it to the gate with an hour to spare, and am now typing out my last post before I leave the country.  I should get to the gate shortly, but I still can't believe that this is happening.  The last month flew by on invisible wings, and now my bags are packed and waiting.  I didn't check anything, so I'm carrying everything on, and the plane should be pretty free if the airport is anything to go by. 

Signing off, not to type again until London.  Wish me luck!