Behold, that introductory blog post: those awkward few paragraphs where one tries to guardedly describe oneself and accurately express certain levels of excitement and anxiety associated with moving across the world for the next four to ten months. I am horrible at introductions. Writing papers, meeting people, all of them. I either err on the side of caution where I seem disturbingly enigmatic after providing too little information, or I spiral downward into the treacherous doldrums of word vomit where I feel the need to say everything interesting about every subject ever. I have no idea which of these routes I will traverse with this entry. You’ve been warned either way.
I am assuming that most of the people who read this have a vague idea of who I am at the very least. If you stumbled upon this slice of Internet by chance, however, then you are most welcome. My name is Shelby and I am a student at the University of Puget Sound. I like things that are made out of words and will be studying both English and Classics at Trinity College Dublin for the next academic year. This blog is where I will be recording my adventures.
I am currently en route to the thriving metropolis of Gander, Canada, where I will enjoy a brief but riveting jaunt before flying to some city called London. I sit here sipping complimentary boxed wine at 37,000 feet, having just finished a delightfully crumbly meal of an indeterminable form of poultry. I think it was chicken, but that’s what everything tastes like so I really have no idea what I consumed. This is called “living the dream.”
Some people find traveling stressful or tiring or annoying. I, on the other hand, would live in an airport if I could. The strangely universal leather chairs! The expensive Internet access! The prime opportunities for people watching! Needless to say I am quite excited to be living on (or near, I suppose) a continent with budget airlines and decent trains again. Expect blog posts from many places other than Ireland.
If you’re still reading this, I must tell you that nothing exciting has happened yet. I mean, there aren’t even pictures in this entry. I probably should have waited to write this until I had some life-altering adventure, but I suppose this will just make relaying my real abroad experience that much better. As of right now, I am just reveling in the simple pleasures of transit, and for that I apologise. I suppose I could have made this into a Choose Your Own Adventure Blog or something of that nature. Hmm.
The middle seat of my row is empty. This thrills me. There was a surprisingly neurotic Croc-wearing woman there until the moment that the fasten-seatbelt sign turned off, when she promptly moved to the other side of the plane without a word. I assume she did this because she had managed to tell me her entire life story in the fifteen minutes of taxi instead of pacing this information out over the next ten hours of flight and now felt awkward with nothing more to say until we could turn our iPods on. Or else she would prefer to re-read her newspaper clippings about Hungary alone. She is going to Budapest, and I just happened to represent Hungary during one of my years of Model United Nations. Since I know things about this subject, I chose the word vomit style of introduction. What?! I thought she would care about the quarrels between Slovakia and Hungary over rights to the Danube! But I digress.
I should mention that I have a strange ability to attract the most bizarre patrons of public transportation whenever I use it, so I really shouldn’t be surprised. These people feel some irresistible need to tell me everything about themselves, even resorting to showing me pictures of family members and particularly enjoyable events in their past as I sit there and absorb their lives. I must remember to try to look more repulsive or dangerous on a daily basis. Or use them as characters in a novel.
I also have an even stranger ability to encounter people I know in unexpected places. For example, on my mid-flight stroll about the cabin, I noticed a guy I went to high school with sitting a few rows behind me. What’s even weirder, though, is that this exact same thing happened on my last flight to London. What is this. Anyway, you know that moment after you say goodbye to someone when you both end up walking in the same direction or something right after? Remember how awkward that is? Well, try having the “It’s been three years since we’ve spoken and now we’re in the same metal tube!” conversation and then sitting four feet away from that person until the following morning.
I’ve spent the past few hours since then staring at my tray table in its full, upright, and locked position with my seatbelt securely fastened across my lap. I’ve also been musing over the fact that that there is no term appropriately opposite of “abroad.” I am now referring to home as “anarrow.” Thoughts? Oh, we’re almost in Canada. This is a monumental event in my life. I am a very bad Minnesotan/Washingtonian because I have never been to Canada before. This first impression is crucial. I must put the laptop away now or else the flight attendant will think that I want to destroy Newfoundland. I scoff at this assumption. I’ve played Risk. That would never be my first move. Greenland, perhaps.
UPDATE: I love Canada. It has free Wi-Fi and Canadian security personnel nonchalantly eating Popsicles. This is my kind of place.