As I begin typing this post, I am sat in the departure lounge at Dulles International Airport, Washington DC. It is much like any other airport lounge. The same rows of black less-than-comfortable chairs, the same shitty little kid banging his plastic toy on the back of my seat while simultaneously screaming at an exhaustingly passive-looking mother (who says men can't multi-task?!), the same elderly couple nibbling biscuits, you catch my drift. Though despite all the sameness, everything is about to change for me - again. Or I suppose it's more a return to my former normality. But it's still change nonetheless.
Of course in the intervening time since my last post I had a visit from a certain someone I've been missing a lot from my general life. The day Graham flew out I was both highly excited and really rather nervous. Kinda like how I felt as a kid at the thought of a fat, bearded man creeping into my room on Christmas Eve and nomming on the sweet treats I'd left by my bed. Obviously as soon as he walked through the arrivals doors all that crap disappeared and I was just inanely, disgustingly happy to see him. I may have even cried. Though if you tell anyone I'll deny it.
We had a tremendous holiday together. Definite highlight being the Segway tour of DC on my birthday. Never have I felt and looked like such an enormous twat and had such a good time. And obviously NYC was brilliant as always. It looked a little glum, lots of scaffolding had been erected in the wake of the whore who shall not be named (Sandy I'm looking at you - I'm pretty much convinced it was the spirit of Olivia Newton-John inflicting her anger at being forever typecast upon the American population), but other than that it was still pretty special. So much good food, so much good drink and a great city. And that was it really for my entire US adventure. Apart from packing. Much packing and sweating. Packing, sweating and panicking.
So back at Dulles; as I walked onto the tin can that would soon be carrying me home, masquerading as an airplane but really concealing its true identity as a poisonous gas canister, filled with a lethal cocktail of stale farts, vomit and chemically inferior coffee, I reflected on my time in DC, and what I would be leaving behind.
I'm proud of what I achieved there. I learnt a lot in my job and had a great time with my colleagues - who really made it for me at the office. I gained loads of new chums and besties from all over the US - widening my net of people whose couches I can crash on while I steadily take over the world. I'm privileged to have met these crazy bastards; and goddamn I fell in love with them. Hard. All my Greystone homies. And of course, Apartment 1117. :)
I remember being terrified when I first made the trip out for my six month stint. I'd never done anything like that before and I had absolutely no idea what to expect. But now I really know the true meaning of bittersweet having left DC. Driving past all the monuments in my way to the airport served as reminder after reminder of everything great I've done here and all the once in a lifetime experiences I've had.
I have absolutely no regrets. Not one. Well maybe apart from picking my used napkin out of the crotch of the older businessman next to me on the plane just now.
Anyway. My flight to London is being called. See you later, buddies.
Ciao,
Xxx
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