I’m sitting in LAX right now, working on killing my 8-hour layover, and marvelling at some of the little things I’d forgotten about:
English. Everywhere. Customs, Starbucks, the adorable twins chasing each other around the terminal, the girl sitting beside me yakking on her cell phone — it’s ALL in English, and I can understand every. single. word. (Haven’t decided if this is a plus or a minus yet…)
Climate controlled living. There are no bugs. No heat. No humidity. I am a perfectly maintained bodily temperature, and have not a creature-comfort-complaint in sight. Contrast this to last night on Brio, when we were sweltering in the humidity that just wouldn’t go away, swimming in 95% DEET and mosquito coils and every other bug-preventing trick we could think of, and it’s all a little… sterile, actually.
Wifi. There is Wifi EVERYWHERE. On the plane, in the terminal, in the restaurants, in Starbucks, in the bathrooms, on the bus that takes you to the way-out terminal that Murphy’s law says your flight will always be flying out of… there is fast, free, wifi. And it’s so fast it’s making my head spin. This might only be appreciable (good word, right??) if you’ve spent 6 months hoping and praying that your little internet-sticky thing will give you a green light and keep working long enough for you to check emails and buy some more internet time… or hunting down restaurants like mad-men with rapid-fire questions (“do you have wifi? how about power? ohh, food too? bonus ”) but for the moment it’s making my life
Lack of food fears. I just ate a bowl of chili, replete with chicken and ground beef and cheese and all sorts of possibly-perishable foods that I’ve been afraid to eat too readily for the last 6 months… and I have ZERO fear of waking up with ‘a bad stomach’ (code for ‘bring on the Imodium’) tomorrow. I know, I know, TMI Leah, but seriously… if you’d experienced as much food poisoning as we have this winter, you’d be fist-pumping airport Chili too
No Jon. After 6 months of sharing our 33′ little space, literally spending 24 of every 24 hours together, wracking up “boat-relationship months” (which I think we’ve all agreed are like dog years — every year you live on a boat with your significant other is like 7 land-years), it’s really strange to not have him by my side…
Especially when I think that at 3 am this morning we were busily caulking windows shut (to make sure there are no leaks while we’re gone), pouring oil in the toilet (it makes an *amazing* difference for the pump), dumping bleach in open buckets (we’ll see if this works — supposedly it’ll cut down the amount of mold growth we get), bundling up the last bits of rice and beans and yogurt for Juan to take home (can’t leave any of that stuff behind), stuffing electronics in the oven (our equivalent of lightning-insurance) and trying to not forget the garbage inside the boat (that was last year’s mistake)… to now be here without him is just… strange.
But that’s what we signed up for when we picked an international marriage and a winter of weekends instead of a 9-5 career life, so I’m going to focus on the positives (all the covers to myself! less Shakira on repeat! …hmm, that’s all I’ve got actually) and keep looking forward. Soon enough we’ll be living together, planning next Winter’s adventures, and this little interlude will be just a fuzzy memory.
Until then… I may just go have another bowl of Chili