Part 3: Travails

I am already in Ithaca but would like to share briefly the story of how I got here:

To begin with a word of warning: never buy a round-trip plane ticket if there is the possibility of change in your itinerary. I had made travel arrangements to Pittsburgh for a good friend's (Yay Craig) wedding and my efforts to alter the second leg of my trip have been vexing to say the least. When you have to add $150 to the difference in fare prices (exorbitant this close to the travel date), the result is almost always more expensive then another ticket.

Anyways,

about a week ago I made it to Ohio where I spent the days leading up to Craig's wedding reveling in the presence of good friends. We laughed, joked, played sports without incident and, in general, celebrated both our years of friendship and the man that we had come to give away (I'll make up a Facebook album as soon as I get back to California and my camera cord). The wedding took place on Sunday, everything went splendidly, and when a few of us gathered in a bar on Sunday night I couldn't help giving thanks these amazing fellows.

Monday morning was a rude awakening, not because of the extra ordinary events the night before, but because Ryan, Tanner, Evan and I had to wake up at 4:30am and drive to the airport. We had finished our last beers and polished off the french fries only a few hours earlier.

After saying goodbye to Ryan and sharing a last meal (McDonalds) with Evan and Tanner I began my trek to Ithaca. My first flight deposited me in Philidelphia and by the time I stepped into the terminal, I was a wreck. I was dehydrated, hung over from beer and fast food, and dirty. Moreover, I had reached a point in The Decision that was no longer shielded by other events. So not only was my shirt wrinkled, hair greasy, eyes foggy and face muscles sagging from too much smiling, I didn't know what I was doing with my life, and all of this combined, did not feel good.

I needed a plan and the first and easiest thing to take care: my thirst. I needed some water and I immediately set out to find some when, I had an idea. I needed some expensive water. I needed some water intelligent enough to build wells for children in Africa or at least intelligent enough to put Jennifer Aniston on their label. I needed some water from France or Fiji and the further away the better.

You see, I was moving out of my apartment and out of a stable career track. I no longer had an address or prestigious insitution/occupation to affiliate myself with. I was not even sure I had enough money to get back to California. But no one in the airport knew that. If they saw me, albeit a little scruffy, with a four-dollar water, well they might just assume that I have got things together. And you know what? Their confidence, it would help.

After some searching I found a smootie/breakfast bar that sold glass bottles of Perrier. The guy in front of me ordered a plain bagel but they only carry everything bagels. All or nothing I guess.

I purchased my mineral water and tasted better.