Home is where the heart is

If I was tired, I didn’t notice. Kate opened the door and came in. I had never seen her wear winter clothes before. I kissed her. Against all odds, there happened to be a few other people there in Vytegra’s tiny bus station, but I didn’t care if they saw.

I followed her back out into the bitter cold, where her father’s car was parked. He helped me put my bags in the trunk. Kate and I sat in the back seat, she on the left, I on the right. We stopped at a gas station to use the restroom and then, in the car, had a small breakfast with some hot tea. And then we headed to Pudozh.

The sun rose slowly, casting a blue light on the broad, endless road with nothing on it but snow and a single car. Everywhere, tall evergreens with snowy branches flanked the road as if to see what all the commotion was about.

Finally, we reached the outskirts of a town. It was Pudozh, Kate’s hometown. After making the trip to Orlando, stopping in Germany, spending a few days in Saint Petersburg, and enduring sleepless night on a bus, I had finally reached my destination.

Pudozh is a small city that seemed to have a lot of apartment buildings. Soviet-looking ones, of course. We stopped at one and got out of the car. Up on the 5th floor (the Russians number their floors the same way we do) was Kate’s family’s apartment.

The two doors (for warmth, I assume) opened to a short hallway. On the right was the living room, and on the left was something like a den, which was where Kate was staying. In the back was a perpendicular hallway with a bathroom, a water closet (what I would actually call the bathroom even though it technically isn’t one [unless you take baths in your toilet]), a small kitchen, and, presumably, Kate’s parents’ room.

Now I could relax for a while. Kate and I got on to our own schedule. Her parents would come and go, and we would sleep when we wanted and stay up when we wanted. We might sleep for hours and hours and hours and then stay up just as long. I’ve never done anything like it. When we were awake, we would watch movies or do our own Internet things. Or we would play with the cat, Buzik. Most of the time, we were in Kate’s room.

We would go to the kitchen to eat. Kate often ate little pieces of bread with meat and cheese on top of them—like tiny open-faced sandwiches. We would have leftovers from the last meal her mother had made. The food was simple: chicken and rice, things like that. But it was real, and you could taste it. Kate’s father brought in some raw milk. I can’t really describe how it tasted: kind of grassy? But it was good.

And then there was tea. We Americans make fun of the British for loving their tea so much, but lots of other people live on it. Kate had a relatively enormous appetite for tea when she visited me (and teased me at first for not knowing how to make it [haha, get it? teased???]), and now I could see that in her country, it was totally normal.

We made tea after almost every meal and often between meals. I’m not a big fan of your plain old black tea—I think it’s bitter and isn’t improved by sugar or milk—but I managed to pick out one that I liked. It was Greenfield Creamy Rooibos, a British import. Kate, however, told me that it wasn’t technically a tea, so there you go.

My second day at Kate’s was December 25. I woke up sometime in the afternoon—outsleeping even Kate, I think—and her parents presented me with a box of Cadbury chocolates as a Christmas gift. It was very nice of them to give me something on that day, especially since Orthodox Christmas is on January 7 and most Russians aren’t religious anyway.

After a few days of staying inside, Kate and I got ready to go out so I could see Pudozh.

Do you believe in magic?

Why, hello there. Some very important things have been happening recently, which you’ve already found out about if you follow me on Twitter. If you don’t then do it now! If not for the status updates, then at least for the post updates and the witty one-liners. Or at least the witty one-liners.

Anyway, not everything is settled yet, so it would probably be best if I didn’t comment about it at length.

One of the things I’ll miss about UF is their ability to attract great speakers and entertainers. On Wednesday, magicians Penn & Teller came to campus.

To get a free ticket, I had to stand in what was probably the longest line I had ever been in, from the entrance of the Phillips Center all the way out to the street (which you’ll have to believe is a really long way). But the line moved quickly because they were just handing out tickets to everyone. Then I had to stand in another really long line for an hour to wait for the doors to open. Some people behind me ordered a pizza. No joke.

Preceding Penn & Teller was a montage of various TV appearances they’d made over the years, and then they came out wearing orange and blue baseball caps. Throughout the appearance, they did a couple of tricks, the most impressive of which consisted of Teller taking an apple with needles sticking out of it, swallowing the needles, eating the apple, swallowing a thread, and then pulling the thread out of his mouth with all of the needles threaded on it. Well, that’s what he seemed to be doing. But he was wearing short sleeves! Nothing could have been hiding in those sleeves, man.

But mostly they were answering questions from a guy who was coming up with them on the spot and reading some that he claimed to have collected from people waiting in line. Then audience members got to ask some questions. A lot of questions dealt with their origins, their philosophies, and their TV show. And although Teller’s trademark is being silent, he did speak. Turns out he’s soft-spoken, as you might have guessed. Well, Penn can make anyone else sound like that.

After the show, Penn came down from the stage, ran through the aisle high-fiving people, and stood outside the entrance of the theater so people could take pictures with him on their way out. I assume Teller did the same thing on the other side of the theater, but he’s a lot less conspicuous, so I don’t actually know. I thought it was pretty cool that a celebrity is so willing to have his picture taken with fans. I’d think he would have gotten bored of it by now.

Speaking of celebrities, my friend Reid Ewing (whom you may have seen in a bunch of episodes of ABC’s hit comedy Modern Family) has a song out and a video to go with it! I don’t really get it, but check it out! And here he is on some guy’s YouTube video vlog show thing. It’s really funny! But don’t watch it at work!

Game changer

How often do you get to witness a life-changing event? A moment in which the fog lifts over someone’s future and a single path becomes clear?

My friend Andrea had been dying to catch up with me after my winter break in Russia, so on Monday, we met up and went out to an Italian place for dinner. As usual, she had a lot to talk about. Since I had last seen her, she had graduated and started applying to law schools. We talked about the daunting challenge that was her Vanderbilt application as well as some lighter stuff like possible romantic interests.

We’d been getting into the habit of renting movies and watching them together (well, actually, she’s the one who rents them), so after dinner, we settled on Hot Tub Time Machine and went to her place to watch it. If you haven’t seen it (which is perfectly all right), it’s about some friends who get sent back in time and have to re-live a wild weekend that determines the course of the rest of their lives. They can’t decide whether to re-create events as they originally happened or to take a different direction in the hope of giving themselves a better future.

Andrea was sitting on the couch with her laptop and surfing the Internet, which is what she does when she thinks the movie we’re watching is boring. But suddenly, she stood up. She started making noises. I had no idea what was going on.

Finally, she spoke. She had gotten an e-mail from George Washington University Law School. She had been accepted. And they were offering her a full-tuition scholarship.

She asked me to read the e-mail back to her just to make sure it was real. Once she was convinced that it wasn’t a prank, she called her parents and other family members, beaming, to share the good news.

Andrea had wanted to live and work in Washington, DC, and now, she was all set to go to a prestigious law school in the heart of our nation’s capital for free. Only a few hours earlier, we had been talking about what might happen if she got accepted to this or that law school. It turned out that her acceptance e-mail had been sent earlier that day. Unbeknownst to us, her fate had already been decided. And we couldn’t have been happier about it.

By the way, we finished watching Hot Tub Time Machine. Spoiler alert: One of the guys decides not to go back to the present day in the time machine. Instead, he stays behind in the past, re-lives his life, and becomes rich.

And now, something a little lighter: foods with misspelled names. (Via waxy.org)

Back in the USSR

I’ve been eager to write. The people want to know. Now, you shall hear of my magnificent voyage to the exotic land of Russia and the unusual circumstances surrounding my late return to this world… The World of Stuff.

Or whatever.

I guess the best way to start this story is to explain why I was going in the first place. I met Kate (in Russian, Ekaterina or Katya) while I was in Europe in ’09. Since then, she’s visited me not once but twice. In November, she broke her leg, and then she went to recuperate at her parents’, so I decided to visit her there.

I got my plane tickets and visa through a travel agent (AAA is also a travel agency, apparently). She ended up applying for the visa through CIBT, which is what I was going to do anyway. So I could have done everything myself, and maybe I should have, but it was good to talk to an expert since I had no experience applying for a visa. That is how I rationalize it.

So. I got the visa, no problems (thanks, Margaret!), and I had my tickets. I would fly from Orlando to St. Petersburg, with a layover in Frankfurt, Germany.

Sunday, December 19. My parents dropped me off at Orlando International Airport, which I was starting to get pretty familiar with by now. The check-in line was long, but I didn’t think I would be there for more than half an hour. Or an hour. Or two hours. Boys and girls, I stood there for three hours. The flight was delayed due to snowstorms in Europe and a bunch of people had to rebook their next flights, which was evidently like pulling teeth considering how long it took (that metaphor doesn’t quite work; bear with me).

I wasn’t quite sure whether my flight from FRA to LED (St. Petersburg, formerly Leningrad) would have to be rebooked, and I stood around for a while in indecision (so yes, part of the three hours was my fault). A guy and a girl about my age said I should stand in the rebooking line to find out just what I would have to do. Finally, I did. I was able to commiserate with them a bit as the people in front of me in line were taking FOREVER.

Eventually, it was my turn, and I was told that I should reschedule my second flight if I didn’t want to have to run for it. So I instead of arriving in St. Petersburg in the afternoon, I would arrive at night. Kind of threw a wrench into my plans, but there are few things I want to do less than run through an airport trying to catch an airplane (burn myself alive, hug a bear with chainsaw arms, watch TLC).

All that standing around had made me ferociously hungry, so when I was done, I thanked the guy and girl and went off to get some food. Next, I went through airport security, and I did not get selected for the naked body scanner, so I didn’t get groped either. Yay. Once I was at the gate, I had some time to write a blog post (so yeah, I’ve written about some of this stuff already), and then it was finally time to board.

On the plane, I found myself sitting next to the young guy and girl whom I had talked with earlier. Their names were Aaron and Rachel. They looked like a couple of people I used to know from my church youth group. Aaron was olive-skinned and wore glasses above a prominent nose. Rachel had fair skin, twinkling eyes, and an impossibly big smile. I told them about my travel plans, and they said they were going to India to meet some of Aaron’s family.

Most of the time during the flight, I just sat there and didn’t do anything. I can’t sleep sitting upright (or semi-upright, as in a reclined airplane seat), and for some reason I tend avoid to making myself as comfortable as possible on planes, trains, and automobiles. Something in me says it’s not worth the trouble to try to sleep, or to try to listen to whatever music they have playing, or to try to watch the movie.

Finally, we landed in Frankfurt, Germany. I was in Europe again, just like that. It was the morning or the afternoon or something. I didn’t really know.

Frankfurt’s airport is vast and has all the sleek modernness one has come to expect in the reunited Germany. I didn’t want to waste too much time looking around, though. Aaron, Rachel, and I followed the signs for connecting flights, and we were led to an area where all of the terminals could be reached. We had to go in different directions, so I wished them the best, and we parted ways.

I found my gate, and I had lots of time (the other people there were waiting for an earlier flight), so I got out my netbook and found free Wi-Fi. I couldn’t find a place to plug in, though, so I eventually switched to reading a book.

“English major?” asked the woman sitting next to me as I read Hamlet.

“Actually, computer science,” I said. “I just like Hamlet.”

She said she had recognized me from the flight from Orlando. We talked for a while. She said she couldn’t sleep on the plane either. She said that she had taken a computer programming class when she went to the University of Central Florida in Orlando. She was an accountant.

I’d taken an accounting class, I said, but I had already forgotten… which was it…?

“Debits on the left, credits on the right,” she said. (Actually, I still don’t remember, so maybe it was the other way around.)

She was taking a leave of absence to visit her family in Morocco. I let her use my laptop so she could check her Facebook, but it was taking so long to let her log in with all the you-are-logging-in-from-an-unfamiliar-location stuff that I had to leave before she could actually log in. As I was shutting down my netbook, she proposed that we add each other as friends on Facebook, so we wrote our names down for each other on pieces of newspaper that a guy sitting next to her graciously provided. We wished each other good luck, and I entered the gate.

It was dark now, but I could see snow falling outside. I had seen snow before, but not snowfall. It was mesmerizing. But before long, it was time to go. We actually had to go outside and take a bus to the tarmac, where our plane was waiting for us. I thought they didn’t do that anymore, but I guess they do when there are too many planes and not enough gates.

After a pleasantly brief flight of only three hours (but with a meal!), dimly lit highways came into view from the window. Soon, the plane made contact with the ground, and a disturbingly large number of people applauded. I had only heard of people doing that at precarious airports and/or on dilapidated airplanes, and I was fairly sure a Lufthansa Airbus jet and the international airport in a major world city would be pretty top-notch.

As the plane was being taxied, I looked around to see what I could see. I could hardly believe it myself. There I was in the land of Kate.

Here’s something I missed while I was gone: posting links. This is a good one that will give you some things to think about this New Year. (Via waxy.org)

Moderate quasi-home makeover

Andy, my roommate of a year and a half (but it seems like longer), left on Thursday. His decision to move out put me into a bit of a jam, but it’s not his fault. Somehow, I’ve managed to get through three and a half years of college without having my own dishes. Or silverware. Or a bunch of other stuff.

My first two years of college, I lived in a dorm (or “residence hall,” to be politically correct), so I usually ate at the dining hall (or “dining hall”) and used paper plates and plastic silverware when I didn’t. Then I moved in to this apartment with Andy and Ryan, and each of them had a full set of cutlery and cookware and whatnot. They let me use most of it, so I didn’t need to buy my own stuff. Ryan moved out this year, so I’ve just been using Andy’s stuff and whatever Ryan left behind.

With Andy moving out, a lot of things in the kitchen (and living room, and elsewhere) would be gone, so I had to do something. Since I’m almost done with college (yikes!), I figured it would be best to skip over the cheap college-dorm furnishings and get quality stuff for myself—things that would last a lifetime (or more than four years, at least). On Sunday, Andy and I went out to Walmart, Target, and Bed Bath & Beyond so I could buy what I needed.

Since I expect to move in to my own apartment after I graduate, I’ve been thinking about how I want to decorate it. After living for so long in a dorm room and a cheap apartment, I want a place that really feels like home. That’s why I want my next apartment to be reminiscent of a mountain lodge. Think about it: what’s cozier than a warm lodge in the dead of winter? Ideally, there would be a lot of wood and stone and earth tones and things like that. So, when I was going shopping, I mostly picked things that were brown and had an old-fashioned or classic look.

One of the most important purchases of the day was a set brown stoneware plates and bowls. They have a handmade look to them (probably because they were made by hand in China, but never mind). I also got a set of silverware. It’s brushed stainless steel, so it actually kind of looks like silver (I think?), and each piece is heavy and strong. Together, they look like things your ancestors would have eaten with on the frontier. Or in a lodge.

Another major purchase was a floor lamp for the living room. Andy had a really cheap one, and I wanted to get something nicer. I ended up springing for this iron cage floor lamp with a bronze finish and an alabaster glass shade (can you tell I’m copying stuff from the description?). But it looks really nice, and I like it. I think it goes with the theme (a sentence I must have said about a hundred times while we were shopping). The lamp, the silverware, and the dishes came from Target. I love Target.

At Bed Bath & Beyond, I found one of those clocks that update themselves based on radio signals from an atomic clock. I had been wanting one for the living room for a while, and I liked this one because it was a pale gold color with wood paneling on either side. (It goes with the theme!) So, I bought it. The display model was the only one they had in stock, and it didn’t include the outdoor temperature sensor that the product’s web site says goes with it. I don’t really need that, so I set it to show seconds instead of the outdoor temperature. I still like it because it gets the radio signal and it looks really slick.

The other things I bought were:

• Wooden cutlery tray (the thing that keeps your silverware organized in the drawer)
• Dish drainer and a tray to go under it
• Dish towel
• Doormat
• Oven mitts (I don’t bake stuff, but I take hot things out of the microwave)
• Paper towel holder
• Plastic containers
• Pot with lid (I pretty much just make pasta, so I don’t need pans or anything right now)
• Ladle, spatula, and various other kitchen utensils (mainly for the ladle, see above)
• Colander

It’s pretty sad without Andy being there, but at least I can eat.

An article from Wired: Placebos Are Getting More Effective. Drugmakers Are Desperate to Know Why.

In Russia, Jordon visits YOU!

The rumors are true! I’m going to Russia soon to visit Kate.

“But Jordon,” you say, slowly taking off your glasses with a gaze of concern mixed with disbelief. “It’s winter in Russia. It’s cold in winter in Russia!”

I’m aware of that. But she’s at her parents’ place, recuperating from an accident. No, it’s not serious, but it’s not too pleasant for her either. I’ve been wanting to visit her, so I figured now would be a good time.

“All right,” you say, leaning back in your chair, twirling your straw in a glass that you didn’t have a moment ago. “But when did you decide to do this? Are you prepared? Do you have a passport?”

Of course I have a passport. I went to, like, a bazillion countries last year, remember? I decided last month that I wanted to go, and I got plane tickets and a visa. I’m all set.

“What’s your itinerary?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

Well, I’m really not there for tourism. But on Sunday—

“This Sunday??”

—this Sunday—I’m setting off for Saint Petersburg, and I’ll be arriving there the next day. I’ll have a few days there before I can go to Kate’s hometown. Then, after spending time with her there, I’ll come back. I’ll be back here before classes start in January.

“And you have warm clothes, right? Lots of them? You’re going to freeze. You’re going to die, like, literally.”

Thanks. Yeah, I do.

“Do you have a hat?”

I think so.

“You’d better make sure. Did you know 90% of the heat from your body escapes from your head?”

I don’t think it’s that m—

“And gloves. And you have boots, right? You’ll be walking through the snow. There will be a lot of snow there.”

I’ve got it covered.

“What is in Russia, anyway, besides snow? Oh, are you going to see that weird colorful church with the big things?”

That’s in Moscow.

“And…?”

No.

One-day weekend

Veterans Day was on Thursday, so we had a one-day weekend. My roommate Andy went with me to visit my parents, and in a little over 24 hours, Andy and I watched all of the Back to the Future movies and most of the first Harry Potter movie. And we still had time to take a walk around the grounds (yes, we have grounds now) and do some homework. And eat. It was pretty intense. And going back to school and work the next day was awful.

Here are a couple of Ask Jordon questions from Kate:

According to your article, you don’t remember QWERTY. How did you type on my netbook then? Do you use the standard or the left-handed Dvorak?

I wrote that I’d forgotten QWERTY after learning Dvorak. I learned QWERTY again.

Every Russian man 18 years old or older must serve in the army for one year. The conditions are poor and there is a risk of mockeries, hazing and even death. What would you do if you were a Russian boy? (You can Google about current situation.)

Like most young American men, I’ve thought a bit about how I might feel if I were drafted into the US Army, but fortunately, there hasn’t been a draft in a long time. I can’t even imagine how I’d feel about compulsory service, but without the element of surprise in play, at least I might be mentally prepared. If you’re talking about deserting, I don’t think I’d do it. If an army is mad at you, bad things can happen. One year of hell doesn’t sound that bad compared to the risk of a much greater penalty.

Want airport security screeners to see you naked? No? Wednesday, November 24, is National Opt-Out Day. Of course, you can (still) choose not to go through the naked body scanner whenever you fly, but people have promoted opting out on a busy travel day to get their point across. I should point out that the alternative—getting groped—isn’t much more pleasant. The terrorists have won. (Via J-Walk Blog)

Diwali

Recently, one of my co-workers invited me to a Diwali show she was going to be dancing in. For background information, I shall now quote Wikipedia:

Deepavali (also spelled Devali in certain regions) or Diwali, popularly known as the festival of lights, is an important five-day festival in Hinduism, Jainism, and Sikhism, occurring between mid-October and mid-November. For Hindus, Diwali is the most important festival of the year and is celebrated in families by performing traditional activities together in their homes. Deepavali is an official holiday in India, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Mauritius, Guyana, Trinidad & Tobago, Suriname, Malaysia, Singapore, and Fiji.

Clearly, this is a big thing to many people. I had heard of it, and I was pretty sure there was an episode of The Office about it, but I really didn’t know anything about it. My co-worker, who is Indian, said they celebrate it like we celebrate Christmas here: with lights and gift-giving.

She had also invited one of our other co-workers and our boss to the show, but they couldn’t make it. So I was the only one to whom she gave a ticket stamped “VIP” at work on Friday. That was pretty cool since I had never been a VIP anywhere before.

The show was held at the performing arts center on campus last night. I got to sit in one of the front rows since I was a VIP and all. The show was a huge thing. It was about three hours long and had about 150 people in it. That sounds like an exaggeration, but it’s not. There are lots of Indian students at UF, although there were a few non-Indians, and possibly non-students, in the show. Most of the audience was Indian as well.

The show, which opened with the Indian and American national anthems, consisted mainly of musical numbers and dance routines, each with varying mixes of traditional and contemporary Indian-ness, performed by different groups of students. My co-worker appeared early on and did a great job on her dance routine. The theme of the night was Bollywood, and a series of skits interspersed throughout the program followed a couple of time-traveling Gators as they revisited Bollywood classics through the ages. Although these and other cultural references were lost on me, I could appreciate it all.

The show was so long that there was an intermission. (Well, that made it seem really long since even epic-length movies tend not to have intermissions anymore. I wonder why, anyway. After all, movies have been getting longer and our attention spans have been getting shorter, but… no more intermissions?) A local rapper opened the second half of the program with a couple of raps wishing everyone a happy Diwali. The final act of the show consisted of a dance troupe that you could tell spent a lot of time practicing just this very sort of thing. They were awesome.

I was grateful to my co-worker, who came out from backstage to talk to me during the intermission and after the show, for inviting me. Not only did I learn a thing or two about Indian culture, but I also had a good time. Awww.

From the BBC: How Britain Said Farewell to Its Empire.

Adventures with Kate, part ten

On Thursday, August 19, the sun slowly sank into the ocean behind a half-empty Greyhound bus as it crossed bridge after bridge, passing through quiet island after quiet island, heading for Miami. On the bus were Kate and I, watching a movie on Kate’s laptop. She had picked out a foreign film called The Seventh Continent. It was horrifying, and I wondered why she thought I would like it. But the more I thought about it, the more I did like it.

We made a very short stop at a Burger King; it was the same one, decorated like a boat inside, that our bus had stopped at only a few days ago on our way to Key West. On the bus, while we were watching the movie, the minutes passed almost as quickly as they did in the restaurant. Before I knew it, we were speeding along on an elevated freeway with the orange-yellow glow of city lights all around. We were back on the mainland.

The bus took us to Miami International Airport. From there, we took a city bus to a Metrorail station. We knew where we were going; Kate had once again made our sleeping arrangements through CouchSurfing.

At the Metrorail station, as we were buying our tickets to get on, a man came up to me and wanted me to buy his old Metrorail ticket from him for the same price as a new one. He swiped it to show me that it still worked. He said he had a wife and kids to support or some bullshit like that. He wouldn’t stop bothering me. I bought the ticket from him so he would go away. He probably went off and drank, smoked, huffed, or snorted it. So, yeah, I know it was a bad idea. I need to learn to say no to those kinds of people, especially since the same thing had just happened to me. It’s hard because I was raised Catholic.

The ticket got me in. As we stood on the platform, Kate and I and Kate’s friend’s guitar, I called our host to see if she was in. She said she’d be on her way home to let us in. I looked out over the dark city that I had until very recently called the major city closest to home.

The train came and swept us to Brickell, an upscale district south of the Miami River. Young, well-dressed people were dining and drinking and having a good time. Carrying our huge bags, I felt like we were out of place, and they seemed to too. I got at least one stare.

We arrived at a tall apartment building next to one of the many restaurants. I had a hard time figuring out how to open the door. The man inside heard me over the speaker and said he would unlock it. We walked inside. The lobby was vast and empty. The man sat at a desk near the door. Off to the side were a couch and a few chairs. There was a large mural on the wall next to an elevator. That was it.

We called our host to let us know we had arrived, and soon she came out of the elevator and brought us up to her apartment. She showed us where everything was in the kitchen case we wanted any food. Then she showed us our own bedroom and bathroom before going to bed. It was late, so we just made plans for the next day and then went to bed ourselves.

The next day, Friday, August 20, was the last day of Kate’s visit. We woke up early so our host could drop us off at a Barnes and Noble on her way to work. It wasn’t really on the way at all, so we thanked her for having us and going to the trouble. Then, once again, we were on our own.

Some of Kate’s friends and relatives had given her money to buy certain things for them. A couple of people wanted Barnes and Noble’s e-book reader, the Nook. After having breakfast at an Einstein Bros., we went to Barnes and Noble. I parked myself and all our stuff in the philosophy section, which was right at of one of the front windows, while Kate went through the apparently difficult process of buying several Nooks.

After what seemed like forever, she had them. From there, we took a few buses to get to the Lincoln Road Mall in Miami Beach. We were getting to be on a tight schedule, so there were some tense moments when we couldn’t find the buses we needed. Fortunately, we were able to get to Lincoln Road pretty quickly, so we set out for our next shopping-for-other-people destination: the Apple Store.

As Kate waited in a line that stretched more than half the length of the store to buy some iPads, I got on one of the computers to check my e-mail. A police officer who had been stationed at the front door tapped me on the shoulder and told me that those computers were only for people who were signing up for iPhone service, and that if I wanted to use one of the computers, I should use one of the ones on the opposite side of the room. I didn’t; I was done by then anyway. It wasn’t till later that I realized that the cop wasn’t a cop at all; he was just a security guard. The giveaway was that the American flag patch on his right shoulder was backwards. No, not backwards the way it’s supposed to be, but backwards from backwards.

Finally, Kate had the iPads. We had a little bit of time left, so we went to the Swatch Store so she could buy some watches. Kate made her decisions with great care. Meanwhile, I tried to find out when the next bus to the airport would be coming. I went to the bus stop at the end of the mall to see if I could find a schedule, but there wasn’t one. Next, I went back to the Apple Store to look up the schedule online. Back at the Swatch Store, Kate was buying the watches she had chosen.

We set out for the nearest bus stop. The driver told us where to get off so that we could take a bus directly to the airport. Fortunately, that bus was waiting right at our stop, but unfortunately, the driver was taking his time. At last, the bus started moving. It left Miami Beach and entered Miami, going farther and farther west. Before long, we were at the airport, the last stop on Kate’s visit to America.

We were in a hurry. Kate packed her bags as we were standing in line to check them. She wanted to carry on the guitar case, her backpack, and the stuff she had just bought, but they wouldn’t let her take all of those things. Eventually, we found ourselves tearing open iPad boxes, trying to get all of the gadgets to fit into her backpack.

Somehow, they all fit. Kate was good to go.

Nearby was an escalator going up to security. At the entrance of the escalator stood an attendant. I asked her if I could follow Kate up to security and see her off there, but the woman said I couldn’t. I had to stop there.

Kate said she had to throw something away and started walking away toward a garbage can. I followed her, wondering what she was thinking when she was already going to be late for her flight. She told me she really just wanted to get away from the attendant so we wouldn’t have to kiss right in front of her. Silly Jordon, why didn’t I think of that? My mind doesn’t work that way.

We kissed. Then I took a picture of us as fast as I possibly could.

She went ahead; I stayed behind. She faced me as the escalator carried her up. I remembered our last goodbye at the bus station in Gainesville not long ago. This time, though, it was different. This time, I wasn’t torn apart by lingering uncertainties; instead I felt at peace, calm, knowing this was not really goodbye. There were no tears, only smiles.

* * *

I stood alone at the bus stop outside, waiting for the shuttle to the Tri-Rail. The sky, sunny earlier, was turning gray. The bus came just in time; I had a few minutes to put down my bags and sit.

It started pouring rain as I got out of the bus. I dashed toward the platform for refuge. A train came, and I got on. I had my ticket, bound for Deerfield Beach. I would be spending the night with a friend in my old neighborhood.

He picked me up from the station, and we caught up with each other over dinner at the neighborhood bar and grill. He drove by my old house. It looked the same, except the lawn was overgrown. Back at his place, I went to bed early.

I woke up as the sun was rising and slipped out while everyone was still asleep. A friend of my mom’s who was going up to visit her picked me up outside. She had decided she could use the company; so could I.

On the way, I read. Kate had given me Of Human Bondage for my birthday, and though I had read it on some of our long bus rides, I hadn’t been able to finish it. Now I had my chance.

Of Human Bondage is a novel about a boy who grows up. He does things, and things happen to him. He falls in love with a woman who doesn’t love him but takes advantage of his good nature. He falls in love again and finally finds true happiness.

This book, before and after Kate’s visit, felt like a connection to her. I finished reading it just before we arrived home. It was back to life as usual.

Kate, I miss you.

Adventures with Kate, part nine

On Tuesday, August 17, Kate and I had just arrived outside the Greyhound station at Key West International Airport after a long, long bus ride. Kate called the woman we’d be CouchSurfing with to let her know we had arrived. She came right from work to drive us to her apartment, which wasn’t very far. (Nothing is very far away in Key West, I guess.) She said she had to go back to work and that she’d return in a few hours.

We were free to go out and explore the town if we wanted, but we stayed in the guest room, which had a bunkbed and its own bathroom. Kate spent the rest of the day getting some much-needed sleep while I surfed around on her netbook. I sank a good deal of time into my CouchSurfing profile, hoping that my roommates would allow CouchSurfers to stay with us.

A few hours later, our host came home. After she offered me a serving of the dinner she was making for herself, I woke up Kate to keep her from missing out on another night’s sleep. We talked to our host, who said she hadn’t lived in Key West very long but had CouchSurfers over all the time, about tourist attractions in the area. I had been to Key West five times (1999, 2000, 2003, 2005, and 2007) but never for very long, and I always sort of did the same things. After our host gave us some suggestions, we called it a night.

The next day, we set out for the historic part of the city by bus. I didn’t know Key West even had a bus system, to be honest, but sometime between hugging the ocean and zigzagging through neighborhoods, I could see why it was necessary. Yes, Key West is a relatively small island, but it seems like it would be pretty big if you’re walking. It’s not big enough that there are a lot of buses, though.

We got off near the famous Mile Marker 0, the end of mighty US 1, from which distances are measured in the Florida Keys. To Kate it was just a sign, but to me it more than that. To me it was the symbol of a lifestyle—a state of mind, even. Okay, not really. To me it was a sign, and I get a bang out of signs.

Next, we went to the Florida Keys Eco-Discovery Center. It was a sort of small museum with information about the ecology of the area as well as a few fish. There was also a theater, where Kate and I watched a short movie about eco-discovery or something like that, told from a first-person perspective. Clearly, it was very memorable. Maybe Kate remembers exactly what it was about.

After that, we went to Fort Zachary Taylor Historic State Park. Our host had told us that there was a good beach there, and was she right. It was gorgeous and not extremely crowded. Kate and I swam around for a little while before drying off and moving on. We hadn’t eaten lunch yet.

We walked up lively Duval Street to a restaurant that our host recommended: Caroline’s, appropriately located near Caroline Street. As soon as I got there I realized I had been there before, when I visited Key West with my family five years ago. We had eaten outside then, and I wondered if they had inside seating since it was pretty dang hot. Fortunately, they had a couple of tables inside, so we sat at one of them. At the other were seated some people about our age who were speaking a foreign language. Kate recognized it as Russian and said that they were talking about stupid things.

In a break from restaurant tradition, I didn’t order an enormous hamburger, but Kate did. Instead I got a pasta dish, but of course, we shared our food with each other. Even though we were stuffed, the dessert menu looked too good to pass up. Kate got what I believe was a giant cookie with ice cream on top of it, and I got a slice of the Florida Keys’ most famous dessert, Key lime pie. I’m not sure if anyone outside Florida has heard of it, hence the Wikipedia link.

Kate had mentioned that she wanted to go parasailing, so we found a place on the street that was offering parasailing… sessions?… and signed up there. Soon after, we walked to a nearby marina and found where we had to be. We signed something, handed over some money, and got onto the boat that was waiting there.

With us were a young couple and a mom and dad with a kid. Our captains were a couple of young dudes who coolly disregarded the “No Smoking” sign near the steering wheel, which made me wonder how much stock they put into the one that said “It Is Customary to Tip the Crew.” They put on some dude music and took us out west of the island. The young couple parasailed for a few minutes; next the mom and the kid went up.

Kate and I were last. I was sure I would have a problem with the harness or something since I always have problems with those kinds of things, but I ended up being secured pretty tight. The boat sped up, and up we went.

I was sure it was going to be really windy up there, but there was only a gentle breeze. Instead I felt like I was sitting on a cloud. Kate and I, sitting on a cloud, side by side. We were really high up, and we could see probably half of the city. Maybe all of the city, I don’t know. I was pretty psyched. Meanwhile, in the boat, one of the dudes was taking pictures and recording a video of us for our possible purchasing pleasure.

Finally, the boat slowed down, and we came back to earth. Kate had requested that we be skipped along the water like stones, so the driver dude obliged. That was when I kind of fell out of my harness and got a wedgie, the memory of which I can now enjoy forever on a mini CD that I paid $20 for. (It was $30, but they secretly knocked it down for me since I didn’t want to spend the money.)

After our parasailing adventure, we walked around the marina some more until I noticed that the sun was setting fast. I was determined for us to take part in the tradition (maybe it’s only a tourists’ tradition, I don’t know) of watching the sun set in Mallory Square. We made it just in time… as far as I could tell. I forgot that you can’t really see the sunset from Mallory Square. There’s an island in the way. An artificial island. Rich people live on it. It’s called Sunset Key. Kate was not amused.

Now it was getting dark and there wasn’t much else to do, so we took the bus back to our host’s place. It was around that time that I discovered that federal regulations prohibit making more than six withdrawals from a savings account in 30 days. I had been paying for bus tickets with my debit card, so I would regularly move money from my savings account to my checking account. Now, I was about to be out of money.

The next day, Kate wanted to go kayaking, so in the morning we walked to a marina on nearby Stock Island, where we rented a ‘yak for a few hours. They gave us life jackets, paddles, and a copy of a hand-drawn map showing the navigable waterways in the immediate area. With those, we set out, Kate in the front, me in the back.

Kate first wanted to a go to a salt pond that was only reachable from a canal. The canal wasn’t far away. On one side were houses, and on the other side were mangroves. The map showed an opening among the mangroves that would lead us to the salt pond. We found the opening and started to make our way through. The passage was barely navigable and seemed to be way too long. Eventually, it was clear that we had taken a wrong turn, but we couldn’t turn around. Finally, we got stuck and had to try. I don’t even know how we managed.

After paddling the whole way backwards, we made it out to the canal and looked again for the actual opening. This time, we found it, and before us was an enclosed area of very shallow water. It was a good place to relax after that ordeal.

Next, we decided to paddle out to the ocean. Along the way, we passed some anchored boats, some of which were clearly abandoned. Soon, the water was getting choppier, and we could say that we were pretty much out in the ocean, even though it was extremely shallow in places (we had to try not to run aground). Once we realized what time it was, we hurried back to the marina, hoping to catch a bus that would take us back downtown. I’d never paddled so hard in my life. During the home stretch, it started raining. We hung out at the marina for a few minutes until it stopped.

Next, we walked to the nearest bus stop. While we were waiting, I called my parents and asked if they could give me an advance of five weeks on my allowance and deposit it into my checking account. The bus didn’t show up, and it would be a long time before the next one, so I called for a taxi. The taxi didn’t show up either. Then the next bus didn’t show up. Finally, a couple of guys who were walking by said (in Spanish) that the bus didn’t stop there. That stop was on the bus schedule, but they had to be right.

Dejected, we walked back to the apartment and had lunch. If we wanted to go back downtown, we would only have about an hour before we’d have to be back to catch our bus out of Key West. We decided to go for it.

After getting off the bus, we walked down toward the Southernmost Point marker, passing the Ernest Hemingway House on the way. After getting our picture taken with the buoy-shaped monument, we had a few minutes to swim at a tiny beach called South Beach. At the beach was a sign that said:

Tennessee Williams, who swam at this beach every morning, said, “I work everywhere, but I work best here.”

After a brief swim, we had to hurry to catch our only bus back to the apartment. I thought we weren’t going to make it, but fortunately, we were a few minutes early. We were still wet when we got on the bus, but it was Key West, so I bet nobody cared. Actually, they were probably like, “Damn tourists.”

We headed back to the apartment and got our things together. Then, our host dropped us off at the Greyhound station at the airport, where she had picked us up two days before. We thanked her and exchanged goodbyes. Our bus was waiting. The final part of Kate’s visit was about to begin.

Actors read actual quotations from online Christian fundamentalist forums while somehow managing to keep a straight face: If Atheists Ruled the World (language NSFW).