My last week at home in California is kind of a blur. My cell phone was ringing every hour of the day and night. I wasn't working, and friends stopped by constantly. The man I sold my Mustang to came and took it away, after I had my last dentist appointment. After he left I walked to the bank through the woods near my home, with several thousand dollars in cash in the pocket of my sweatpants. I was listening to Sublime on my Discman and whistling along with "What I Got". I went on the internet a lot, ate a lot of my favorite foods, took trips to the store with my mom's super sporty car for supplies, made lists for packing and did a little each day so I wouldn't freak out at the end (but of course I freaked anyway). I spent several hours a day for a good two weeks copying my whole collection of hundreds of CDs onto my laptop (man, was that worth it).
I was scheduled to leave Monday, November 11 around 6 in the morning on a flight for Washington D.C., the location at Staging. The purpose of Staging is to acquaint you with certain policies and procedures, allow to bond with everyone else in your training group, and do a bunch of workshops on cross-cultural sensitivity, personal safety, etc. It also gets everyone away from home, and everyone's minds on the same page in preparation to depart to the country of service.
So Friday and Saturday nights I went out with my friends in the beautiful historic gold rush town of Nevada City, California, right next to where I live in Grass Valley. We made our usual tavern circuit and I ran into dozens of friends. Everyone insisted on buying me a drink, and I ended up with a weird medley of beverages over the course of two hours - a bottle of Heineken, a Midori Sour with a cherry in it, 2 Tequila Sunrises, a shot of Jagermeister, a White Russian, half a glass of red wine - God knows what else. Everyone was congratulating me, telling me what a great thing I was doing, telling me how when I came back we would have the biggest party ever (I had discovered and sabotaged plans for a surprise going-away party twice). I felt embarrassed but touched.
Usually I pay a lot more attention to what I drink, how fast, and what with, but I was way more interested in talking to all my friends and needless to say, a friend ended up taking me home early. I spent half of Saturday feeling vile and pathetic, after having one of my friends call to tease me at 7 am, knowing I use my cell phone as an alarm clock and sleep with it right by my head. Saturday night was much better - having a bunch of people over at a friend's house where we all stayed up late, ate junk food, and pondered the universe. (Shannon and Mark, I'm still thinking about what superpower I would pick.)
Sunday my mom was helping me pack and my dad and stepmom came from their home in Monterey, 4 hours south, and joined in the effort. I had checked off everything on my lists, I was ready - now to make it fit, and weigh it! My mom and stepmom helped me vacuum-pack my clothes in special travel bags - yea, room for more clothes! I went to dinner with my family, came home, and retired to my room for the evening. I knew I would have to get up at 3 a.m., shower, and drive 1 1/2 hours to the Sacramento Airport, but I couldn't sleep. I rested happily in my flannel sheets and watched "Good Morning Vietnam" on TV, and later a rerun of Justice Files. I made a teriyaki chicken bowl, snagged some pictures from my favorite photo albums as a last-minute packing item, started to doze off and then... my alarm went off.
I drove with my mom to the airport, with my dad and stepmom following, and met my nana at the airport. The mood was festive and excited, if a little tired. No one cried, no one seemed sad. The occasion would have been perfect, if not for the absence of one person, my brother. My dad was a little peeved that he, being a non-passenger couldn't accompany me to the gate. He joked about buying a ticket just to be allowed upstairs and I told him not to. Finally, I made my way up the escalator and my family walked to the edge of the cordoned off area, as far as they could go. I waved, was photographed, waved some more. I tried to memorize them standing there, then I turned and went through security. When the wheels of my plane left the ground, I smiled a huge smile - my dreams were FINALLY coming true.
Staging...
We stayed at the Omni-Shoreham in Washington D.C. What a beautiful, unimaginable place. They have a website with a virtual tour, if you don't believe me. If I set foot in it now I would probably cry from shock, because everything would be so big and clean. That Monday morning I had flown from Sacramento to St. Louis, Missouri and then on to National Airport in D.C. I was the most airsick I have ever been in my life on the second flight. I could barely collect myself to gather my two large suitcases from the baggage claim, but somehow I did. I made my way outside to hail a cab wheeling those two bags, my purse strapped over one shoulder, wearing a backpack, and carrying my laptop bag. Don't ask me how I did this, wearing jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a vest, and a big coat and boots, but somehow I did. I was hot, dizzy, exhausted, and pretty certain I was going to vomit in the cab. Instead I started feeling a little bit better, joked around with my cab driver, who was born in Africa, and had lived 25 years in Russia, and finally arrived at the hotel, relieved.
I knew that I would have a roommate, but I didn't know who it was. Arriving at my door, I found no one. Later in the evening, I ordered room service - a beer, a club sandwich and fries - including tax and delivery charge this set me back $21! I took a hot shower and finally assumed that she would not be arriving until the next day; because I was coming from the other side of the country, I had permission to arrive a day early, whereas everyone else would be arriving the following day, or so I thought. Around 11 pm I was awakended by a knock. "Just a sec!" I yelled and hopped out of bed. I met my roommate Sunnie at the door - turns out she had been knocking for so long she summoned security. Geez, guess I was more tired than I thought! My head was still spinning with motion sickness from the flight the next day. I laid in bed with my sleep mask over my eyes, occasionally drank water, and then threw it up. I was so miserable. Finally, two hours before our scheduled start of activities, I took a Dramamine and laid back down. When I woke up I miraculously felt better, went and met the others, and felt good as new. Every time I fly I am usually sick at least a day.
The morning of Thursday, November 14, I nervously got up before my alarm and showered. Sunnie and I were panicking over some misinformation we had received: (1) that we would only be allowed one carry-on and (2) that upon arriving at our hotel in Macedonia, our bags would be stored for us, so we would need one bag of clothes and toiletries for 5 days - and by the way - professional attire is expected! We were completely freaking out and rearranging all our things. I don't know how we ever made it. Right as the porter arrived at our room to collect our bags, one of my bags started making a funny, mechanical sound. I swore up and down that I didn't have anything mechanical in there, but every time I leaned the bag a certain way, a loud, whirring sound came from within. Good grief.
Almost hysterical, I started unpacking my bag, the zippers of which were practically bursting as it was, and discovered...my stupid walkman. Yanking the batteries out, Sunnie helped me zip that badboy up once more and we were on our way. We took a bus ride together through a beautiful area of Virginia that I had never seen. My eyes danced to see the beautiful, large homes set back from the road, and the fall trees with green, orange, yellow, and ride leaves. We arrived at the airport (Dulles), and then proceeded to wait 5 hours. We counted ourselves over and over, one through twenty, nearly panicking when someone went for a bagel without mentioning it. Myself and several others went to T.G.I.Friday's for our "last supper". People were making long-distance calls on payphones, grabbing that last chocolate coffee, purchasing expensive postcards, medicine, gum, batteries, gifts for host families. Finally it was time.