Back home

Have you ever flown halfway across the world and decided to go out partying afterward? Here are some things that you can expect to occur:

1. Your friends' faces will start to look like smeary blurs.
2. You'll sit at the table and smile at a coaster because it's the only thing that isn't moving.
3. You'll try to talk but your tongue feels like a snail and the only thing your brain can come up with is "Uhhhhuhuhhhh."
4. You'll drive home and swerve your car to avoid hitting imaginary people who appear to be playing in the middle of the street at 1:00 a.m. Fortunately the street is empty and you've driven it so many times that being half-asleep doesn't have too great an effect on your navigation skills.
5. You'll stand in the entrance to your house for several minutes wondering why you're there and who you are and what happened and if you're really awake right now.
6. You'll spend the next ten minutes doing a thorough spider check in your room, killing two daddy-long-legs and being attacked by one, but it's okay because you're too tired to be scared.

Aside from all that, I had a great evening. About a dozen of my favorite people showed up at Grumpy's and it felt wonderful to hug them all again. I got kicked out of the bar within five minutes because I lost my driver's license and didn't bring my passport along and apparently I look like I'm twelve, but I'm happy to be in Minneapolis again, home of the aggressive i.d. checker.

Now I'm lazing around in bed, eating Pringles and enjoying the free Internet. Everything is the same here, just as I'd expected. My room is still cluttered and my clothes are still disappointing and stained but at least I have a room of my own and I'm not rotating the same three outfits anymore. My TV won't turn on and there are way too many spiders occupying the corners, but at least they're not centipedes and I'm used to not watching TV everyday anyway. I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of my friends and eagerly await phone calls from you, the person who is reading this right now. Except if you're a creepy guy from Georgia who's sitting in Superman underwear in his mom's basement and came across this blog entry while doing a google search for the word "Uhhhhuhuhhhh." I don't really want to talk to you. But the rest of you, feel free to give me a call. I'll answer the phone in my best British accent.