Since we’ve already referenced my vagina once in this series, I’m going to let you know last week I got my period, and exclaimed: “This is impossible, it hasn’t been a month since Mexico!” Then I realized that it had been, and it was time to wrap this up in a vomit soaked little bow as promised. If you recall, my last day began with Katie knocking on my door with medicine and personally apologizing for my sickness. After reprimanding her for that, I went to breakfast where I tentatively had tea & toast and started the process of saying goodbye.
The ocean was on my farewell list and I’d offered anyone awaiting our airport shuttle to come with. Joel joined me and asked: “Do you like your job?” I answered honestly and said that I didn’t. “Well, would you be interested in coming to work for me?” Joel was the CFO of a successful company, the one Steve worked for. I paused, flattered and crestfallen all at once. Had it been any other place or time in my life I’d be signing my name in an imaginary sand contract without even knowing what it was he wanted me to do. Instead, I had to explain that I’d bought a home on wheels and it had wheels for a reason. We sat in silence for several more minutes watching the waves toss themselves against the shore, making the pebbles dance in front of us, before we headed back.
At the airport I made a game of trying to creatively dispose of my remaining pesos – I didn’t really have enough to warrant an exchange. I settled on a tiny sombrero that looked like it would fit Nora’s head, and some tequila for Bridie. I reveled in the fact that despite spewing Satan out of my body the night before, I felt fine. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for many of my traveling counterparts. While I casually sipped bourbon on our layover, there were several people just starting the process of what I’d already exorcised from my being the night before. One of these poor souls was Amy. If you remember, she was my seatmate on the way there and as fate would have it – the way back as well.
Our Delta flight either ran out of barf bags, or they refused to give us anymore. I’m going to go with the latter considering we had the most rookie crew on hand that night. The attendant assigned to our section glared at me with every request – she looked ready to disable my call button after I asked for a blanket for my shivering and feverish friend. She also kept trying to make Amy vomit into a larger receptacle, that would be akin to barfing in a hefty bag. Because that’s what you want when you’re sick – a giant unbalanced bag of bile sloshing precariously in your lap. I’m happy to report Amy eventually recovered, and thanks to Wifi messaging on planes Bridie had a very generous cocktail awaiting me when I finally made it to Passenger Pickup.
I guess I’ve hesitated to sit down and write this entry because so much has transpired in my personal life. I came home and we moved into our 13-foot Scamp two months earlier than anticipated. It’s been a hectic combination of major transition and life going absolutely perfectly. My favorite was one recent morning that it snowed overnight unbeknownst to us, and I had crawled outside and into bed barefoot for some reason. I opened our trailer’s front door and posted an Instagram story of my arduous ten-foot trek into the house. “That’s so Zen,” a friend commented, “Walking through the frost with no shoes.” I then had to inform her no, I was just an idiot who didn’t have ample forethought and I still didn’t know where half of my shit was. While it’s incredibly kitschy, cool and where we were headed – no matter how you spin it, change is change. I wake up throughout the night and plug and unplug the space heater depending on the temperature. Even though we have access to every amenity we need it’s not lost on me that I’ve disposed of most of my belongings, and am living in someone’s backyard. My therapist is equal parts terrified and enthralled by “Mexico Tanya,” the embodiment of everything she’s effectively tried to casually suggest to me for eight years manifesting in front of her.
Travel is essential to the human spirit. I spent the majority of my adulthood telling myself it was too expensive or that I should be using my hard-earned PTO to see family & friends, and not just for myself – that was selfish. I’ve now come to realize that if being egotistical entails putting yourself at the forefront of your own goddamn existence and harnessing all your energy into living your best life? May we all be a bunch of arrogant self-serving assholes as long as we live.
I want to end by simply thanking Katie for being more than a set of nice obliques. You are one of the most kind, compassionate, unapologetically goofy, and “real” people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. You brought all these crazy creatures of life together and facilitated an unimaginable experience for all of us. You certainly don’t give yourself enough credit for what you do, and I need you to know that we see and appreciate you. And I wish I had a more exuberant or colorful conclusion to hand over, but I’m tired y’all. Like the rest of you I had to come back to reality and navigate the world that sat in front of me. My reality just happened to be essentially moving into a walk-in closet with my girlfriend.
I used to feel silly, in my less than loving yoga days, when at the end of the class – we’d say “Namaste.” I always mumbled it as I fumbled my hands to heart center and prayed for a quick Savasana so I could roll up my yoga mat and get the fuck out. Namaste represents the belief that there is a divine spark within each of us that is located in the heart chakra. The gesture is an acknowledgment of the soul in one by the soul in another. Nama means bow, as means I, and te means you. Therefore, namaste literally means “bow me you” or “I bow to you.”
It is an expression of respect, and of divine love. It is a time for teacher to connect with their students and for students to also connect with one another. You share a space that is sacred, and Namaste is about recognizing and appreciating that. Every time I bow I mentally recite these words: “I bow to the divine in you. I honor the place in you in which the universe dwells. I honor the place in you which is of love, truth, of light, and of peace. When you are in that place in you and I am in that place in me, we are one.” For the last time in this particular journey I say to you: Namaste, Bitches. Thank you for sharing this space with me, whether it was being a part of the story or simply reading it. I am grateful. Xo