Is this Home?
So it ends.Its been 2 weeks less than a calendar year since I last stepped foot on this soil and breathed this thin, dry air. I've been thru adventures and changes, struggles and celebrations - admittedly more celebrations than struggles, but that's as it should be. They say that you can never come home again. Das stimmt. (Its true). The Jason writing this entry is not the Jason nervously packing for a year in Germany. The Boulder and its denizens he left are recognizable, but also changed.
Its bitter-sweet but for the best. While I was in the Boston Logan airport, waiting for a delayed plane to DIA, I scribbled down some re-entry observations. Enjoy:
Everyone is speaking English.
Not only English – but American English – and for the first time in a year. Traveling in England for 2 weeks was weird enough, although the accent and a more Euroized culture kept reality at arms length. But it was still something exotic. The norm for me has been a total lack of understanding. While it may sound scary at the front end and can admittedly lead to confusion, misunderstandings and logistical problems, it offers a bubble of protection. You are protected because you aren’t expected to know what’s going on. You are protected because you don’t have to listen in to other people’s cell phone conversations. You are surrounded by white noise, enabling you to engage in great conversation with your travel companions, or let your mind wander freely without constant interruptions. Like now, for example, I am writing this waiting for a 1 hour delayed flight in the Boston Airport, but the two high school girls next to me keep complaining about how cold the AC is (another characteristic unique to America…), which has already knocked me off track a few times.
My people radar is now broken as well. Or at least needs some re-calibration. I’ve spent the last year trying to pick up on signs (clothing, accent, passports, etc.) which provide valuable info about the people around me. At any given moment you could be sitting next to a Pole, a Brit and a Frenchman. Knowing someone’s culture of origin gives one perspective for possible interaction – and is just good fun. Almost everyone here is American – which means I can’t differentiate between the people. It’s much harder to tell if someone is from Boston or Denver than Italy or Russia. Let’s go radar, woo. My only comfort came in the form of 2 lost German women, who I was able to point in the direction of the Rent-a-Car lots. You've still got it, lad.
Regarding Heat and Cars: Stepping out into the 2pm Boston summer was a shock. Temps haven’t breached 70 degrees for over a week in Regensburg – which left me shocked to step out of an ice-cold AC terminal into humid, 85 degree heat. The first car I saw? A 2004 Ford Excursion. The only cars I’ve seen that big for the last year have been Ambulances and Delivery trucks. Not even the police in Europe are that blown up.
What is it about long international flights that leave you feeling dirty, stuffy, cramped and oily? I’ve had all sorts of marathon trips this year – 24 hour ordeals after a night of celebrating – then it’s planes, trains and automobiles. But there is something about being on 1 plane for 8 hours… recycled air?
Let’s do the SMS thing America. How about that? Then you don’t have ringers going off left and right with people yelling into their phones anxiously. Let’s all just sit around quietly and tap tap away at those little plastic keys – and cut down on the noise.
Here we go for another round on the toy plane. Indignant Burger King employees. Curious Currency Exchangers. Bemused security guards. Troubled desk attendants. Chilled out ground crews. Bored passengers. Welcome to the Airport.
posted by Jason @ 1:16 am
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