Hands Down the Worst Travel Experience I Have Ever Had

I have been in London for about ten hours. I hope to have many epic times here and write in detail about them. However, I knew that if I didn't get this down while it was fresh in my mind, I would compromise important parts of the story.

Today, I had arguably the worst day of my life, and definitely the worst travel day of my life.

The journey began at 1 a.m. on Saturday morning (or Friday night, however you choose to look at it). I was merely taking a cab to the Galway bus station, so I could get on a bus to go to Dublin so I could get on a plane to go to London. Easy, right?

No.

I get in the cab. The cabdriver seems pleasant at first. We're chatting about this and that, I'm telling him I'm going to London, he's telling me about how his daughter lives there, whatever, when another cab cuts my cab off. Fine. Whatever. Out of line, he shouldn't have done it. However, MY cabdriver's reaction? He rolls down his window and yells, "You ain't in the jungle anymore, matey!"

At first this didn't register with me. Then, I looked over to see that the other cabdriver (the one mine was yelling at) was black. It was unbelievably uncomfortable. Just so out of line! Wildly out of line! But it didn't end there. We get over that fiasco, we're driving, we're driving, and a black pedestrian tries to flag down my cab, like to go somewhere. My cabdriver stops and is like, "Sorry, man, I already have a passenger," which is obviously totally fair. But as we're driving away, he mutters, "Like I'd let you in the cab anyway." He then raised his voice and said, "Sorry if I sound racist [editorial note: IF???] but some of our multicultural friends just don't seem to get our ways." I sat there petrified. We were in this part of Galway that is sort of between the bustling area and the bus station, and I desperately wanted to say something, but I knew if I argued this asshole was probably going to end up throwing me out of the cab, and the last thing I wanted to do was wander around Galway at 1 a.m. looking for a cab when I'm on a timeframe anyway. I just sat there staring out the window and put my headphones in, even though I wasn't playing music, so when he talked to me I looked like I had an excuse to not respond. It was one of the most uncomfortable car rides I've ever taken.

So, we reach the bus station. Don't worry, there is a LOT more ahead of me. I go inside, get on my express bus to the Dublin airport, am finding my seat, etc. The bus was supposed to leave at 1:45. At, I'm not kidding, 1:43, a drunk man gets on and demands passage to Dublin. The bus driver says, "All right, ten quid." The drunk man says, "Well, I ain't got any money." The bus driver responds with something like, "well, then get off the bus." What follows is an actual conversation and an actual event:

Drunk man: So you aren't going to take me to Dublin?
Bus driver: Well, if you don't have any money...no.
Drunk man: I just want to get home to Dublin.
Bus driver: ...I'm sorry, but I can't let you on if you don't have any money.
Drunk man (yelling): You're a sorry, cold-hearted bastard if you won't take me home to Dublin!
Bus driver: PAY ME OR GET OFF THE BUS!
Drunk man: I JUST WANT TO GET HOME!
Bus driver: I CAN'T TAKE YOU TO DUBLIN IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME ANY MONEY.

At this, the drunk man honestly sits down in the aisle and won't budge. The bus driver says something along the lines of, "Oh, PLEASE do not do this right now," and starts telling him we're all going to the airport, have flights to catch, etc. The drunk man then, swear to God, begins CRYING. He's SOBBING. He's crying about how he's lived his whole life in Dublin, but he lost his job and he got this new one in Galway, but he hates Galway and he just wants to go home to his friends in Dublin, and why is this sorry bastard not taking him home?

It was SO. UNCOMFORTABLE. The bus driver, at a loss, begins to try to reason with him - tells him this isn't going into Dublin at all, it's just going to the airport, he should go to the ATM and get out 10 euro, come back and get the 3 a.m. which is going to the city, etc. The drunk man literally just keeps sobbing about how he hates Galway and he just wants to go home to Dublin and he doesn't understand why the bus driver won't take him home to Dublin.

Everyone on the bus is exchanging these panicked glances. I was on a pretty tight timeframe (which turned out not to matter so much... more on that later) and I was pretty worried I was going to cut it realllllyyyy close to my flight. The drunk man, meanwhile, is still sobbing and is now rocking back and forth on the ground in the fetal position. His lamentations are getting louder. No one knows what to do. The bus driver is now standing over him, begging and pleading for him to get off the bus. Finally, a couple of honest to God POLICE OFFICERS come on the bus and escort him off. I missed the exact happenings because I was kind of far in the back, but since our bus wasn't leaving I think someone from inside the bus station got curious as to why and came out to check. They saw the shenanigans and I think called the Garda. It was insane.

So, we get on the road. I slept through the entirety of it. I'm sure, given the rest of my day, something absolutely bizarre happened while on the road, but I was not privy to it. We arrive at the Dublin airport, I check my bag, go through security, everything is fiiiiiine.

So my flight was supposed to leave at 6:40. Due to (I am not kidding) a HALF-INCH OF SNOW ON THE GROUND, "extreme weather conditions" were declared and we were delayed. Annoying enough. We told we'd be delayed 30 minutes. Then an hour. By the time we boarded, our 6:40 a.m. flight had turned into a 9:10 boarding time. I. Was. Livid.

(N.B. I avoid using specific details when possible, like the airline, because I don't want this to turn into a huge issue. I have this blog to keep my family and friends updated on my life while I'm abroad. I don't want people flipping out at this airline for one really stupid clerk. Although I plan to write a letter, I'd like to keep specific details at bay because I doubt this one horrid woman represents the airline [which I've had nothing but pleasant experiences with in the past] properly or completely. I also want to view this more as a "of course this happened to me" story rather than a "can you believe what's wrong with the world today?" story. ANYWAY.)

So I get up to the front and hand the woman my boarding pass. She squints and says, "Sorry, you must have the wrong flight," and hands it back. I'm like, huh? No, this is my flight. She says, "Sorry, someone already checked in at seat 7D." She cocks her head at me and says in this condescending tone, "This is the 6:40 to London Heathrow."

I say, "yes, I know. That's my flight. That's why I'm in this line. I don't know what the deal is, but this is my flight and I need to be on it."

She says, "Sorry, but someone's already checked in. You're not on this flight."

I try to show her my boarding pass and passport. "Listen, look. This has all the information. This is my flight, this is my name, this is my picture. You HAVE to let me on this flight."

She waves them aside. "I don't need to see those."

Me: Ummm... it's just that I feel like they'd kind of prove my point.
Her: I don't know what to tell you. You can't be on this flight. someone already checked in for that seat.
Me: Well, I don't know what to tell YOU, but this. is. my. flight. Please go check who you checked in at seat 7D. I don't care what you do, but I have to be on this flight! You already delayed me like three hours, I CANNOT catch an even later one.
Her (extremely condescendingly): Maybe you have the wrong date.

I actually began to cry at this point. I was exhausted, this was absurd scenario #3, and I just did not have the energy for it. I broke down and cried. I was waving my boarding pass at her and saying, "This is my flight! I need to be on this flight! I have to get to London! You have to let me on this flight!" I think this totally freaked her out because she sighed and was like, "fine. I'll go check who is in *your* [said in a mocking/condescending tone] seat."

She returns with a mid-20s/early-30s gentleman who looks bewildered. She turns abruptly to me. "Okay, so that was my mistake. The guy I let onto your seat wasn't supposed to be on the flight. He was supposed to be on a different one. Sorry. You can go on the plane now."

I stood there absolutely speechless. I can't even begin to comprehend the things that were wrong with this picture. Let's just make a list:

1) I am by no means a paranoid person about terrorism. I do not walk around terrified that my flights are going to blow up nor do I worry that I'll be the victim of some extremist violence. BUT WHAT AN INSANE BREACH OF SECURITY. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME???
2) She acted as if I was the idiot. ME. When I was trying to show her my boarding passes and telling her I was sure I was on the right flight, and I ended up being RIGHT. How did this guy get past her in the first place??? Did HE have to show a boarding pass or passport?
3) Her apology was insane. INSANE. Although I did petition for (and receive) a free coffee when on the flight. They tried to charge me and I stared daggers at them and was like, "Really? Seriously? You're going to make me pay 2 euro for this after what just happened?" It was a small victory, but I felt like I earned it after her failure to apologize.
4) If I had not cried/gone mildly crazy at the gate, she probably never would have checked and I never would have gotten to London.

Also, I am writing a letter to the airline and I am really hoping for some free flights.

Don't worry, there's still more.

So we land in London, like 4 hours behind schedule. I studied abroad in London and am still fairly familiar with the city. I also kept my Oyster card from studying abroad. They're the cards you use on the Tube, and they're actually sort of expensive to buy for the first time - like 4 or 5 pounds. I kept my one from studying abroad because I knew someday I'd probably need it. Today was that day.

I'm off the plane, I'm feeling pretty good. Like, some insane shenanigans have happened, but now I'm in London, on terra firma, all I have to do is catch the Tube to my cousin's house.

I go to the top-up station in the Tube stop that's underneath Heathrow airport. My Oyster card expired. 5. days. previous. Are. You. Effing. Kidding. Me. I kept that card for OVER TWO YEARS AND IT EXPIRED LESS THAN A WEEK AGO?????

But at this point, whatever. It honestly doesn't even faze me. Like, why would something go easily for me today? So I wait in like a 20 minute line to buy a new card, blow 5 pounds on something I SHOULDN'T HAVE HAD TO BUY, load some money on the sucker and get on the Tube.

I found a seat, am chilling, whatever. I'm relaxing. All I have to do is ride the Tube for ten stops, transfer to another line and go to my cousin's. So. Easy. Smooth sailing, right?

Except I make the mistake of twisting around to study the Tube map on the wall behind me. I just wanted to gauge how long I had, etc. The guy next to me says, "You visiting too?" When I say yes, I am then forced to spend the rest of my supposed-to-be-relaxing Tube ride looking at a middle-aged Australian man's pictures from his trip to Greece. I had to make mmmhmmm and wow noises the whole time. All I could think was, "This is not happening. This is not happening. This. Is. Not. Happening." I was ready to start sobbing again by the time I got off the Tube.

But then I got to my cousin's house. She lived there while I was studying abroad, so I remembered where it was and found it really easily. She and her husband made an absolutely delicious Thanksgiving, they invited over two other couples and their little kids, and it was really, really, really fun. It was a great night. We ate really good food and drank good wine and told good stories and had good chats and it was really, really nice. I got to play with my first cousin once removed (I know genealogy, thank YOU) who is absolutely adorable and who voluntarily sat on my lap and cuddled with me while we watched Toy Story 2 (she's one and a half! I realized how creepy that might sound if you didn't know how old she is). So overall, the day was probably a win. Both because I had a lovely time with my fam and because now I actually have a travel story to beat my "traveling home for Christmas 2009" story. (This is the one where the man ahead of me attempted to bring a handle of Jack Daniels and a hunting knife on the plane, and then a woman tried to give me her baby and walk away. If I've never told you it, ask me it sometime. Although it's probably now less amusing than this sucker.)

And I have three more days in the best city in the world! This day was definitely a win.

Thanksgiving #1, Harry Potter and Annemarie's Birthday

Sadly, there are no creepers to report for this blog update. I feel like that is rapidly becoming a mainstay of my life here in Ireland. I have a creeper magnet or something. But it's all relatively tame this time around.

I am rapidly set to have more Thanksgivings in Ireland than I ever had at any point while living in America. Last Thursday, Annemarie hosted a Thanksgiving at her house for me and her Irish rooommates (and one of her roommate's friends). It was, in a word, lovely. I am not the biggest Thanskgiving food fan in the world, but she had Stove Top stuffing her mom had sent her and she made a turkey and we found apple (sadly, no pumpkin) pie in a store. It was really fun and totally delicious and awesome. It also looks like I'm set to have two more. On actual Thanksgiving, I'll have class (obviously) but my classmates want to take the other American in my program and me out to a Thanksgiving lunch. Something tells me we'll search for a long time and end up eating turkey sandwiches in a pub, but it's a really nice thought of them. And then on Saturday I'm headed to Londytown for my cousin's Thanksgiving! SO excited to go back to London. I fully intend on going to the Landward (the apartment building I lived in while studying abroad) and enlisting some random passerby to take my picture in front of it. I also fully intend on eating schawarma and I'll be able to have CHIPOTLE. Thank god I googled Chipotle that once and discovered it now exists in London.

Anyway, Saturday was Annemarie's birthday! We went to a matinee showing of Harry Potter and it was AWESOME. I already want to see it again. The best part about breaking the 7th book into two movies is that they really didn't have to cut anything. I'm biased, though - the movies could be the worst things ever and I'll still think they were about the best thing I've ever seen. It was so good. Then later that night, we went out on the town for her birthday, which was also a great time, one of the best nights I've had here so far. So overall, it's been a very successful week!

Now I'm just trying to kind of keep my head down and grind out the last of my papers, exams, etc. I have a huge paper due this week that I'm actually really worried about, but I have to convince myself at some point to stop editing it before I edit it so much it turns completely crap and totally unrecognizable. I'll also be home three weeks from today! I can do this, I can do this.

In other news, ND plays USC next Saturday, which means it's time to break out my favorite picture of all time:





In conclusion, I am so close to surviving semester #1 of grad school. So close! miss and love you all...eyes on the prize.

Swim Meet

So I feel like I'm rapid-fire posting these days, but I promised some people I would write about the swim meet that occurred on Sunday. But first, a quote from an email sent by my friend Derrick (and he says he never gets shout outs. HA!)

"Ok, the suspense is killing me. How'd you do at the swim meet?

Best case scenario I've been imagining: You somehow walked in to pro-America intro music (pro wrestling style) wrapped in an American flag as the assembled Irish crowd (huge, in my head) boos and yells anti-American slurs. Then as you win every race, they slowly come over to your side, Rocky IV style, until you win your last race and they all chant U-S-A! U-S-A! And maybe you make a speech that ends Irish terrorism (in lieu of the cold war)

So, is that how it basically went?"

Well, no. That is not basically how it went. In fact, it went about as far opposite that as you can imagine. First of all, and not surprisingly, collegiate swimming doesn't really draw the crowds (in Ireland or America). There were about 10 people in the audience. They were my friend Annemarie, about five Spanish kids (one of the guys on our team is from Spain and is studying abroad here for a year, so I presume these people were all his friends from his Spanish university), and a couple random friends from other people on the team. Secondly, I did not win every race. I also did not enter wrapped in an American flag, and no one U-S-A'ed (although in retrospect, it would have been fairly hilarious if Annemarie had).

However, here is what DID happen. I did swim fairly well! The times mean absolutely nothing to me, because they're short-course meters, which is something you NEVER see in America - it's either short-course yards or long-course meters (short-course pools are 25 yards/meters, long-course are 50 yards/meters, but you'd virtually never see a 50-yard pool). I honestly don't think I've ever swum scm before, and even if I had, I have no recollection of what I would have swum. It's just been far too long. But I placed really well, which I guess it what counts!

There were no time pads, just stopwatches. I've been to high school and age-group meets better organized than this. No heat sheets or anything like that. There wasn't even a publicly posted piece of paper that listed the order of events - you had to keep harassing the coach, who apparently had the only document of this sort.

But University College Dublin was actually pretty good! I'd say they'd make a fairly dece D3 team in America. I was shocked to learn afterwards that not only do they win Irish nationals every year, there were many OLYMPIANS on the team, and I saw them swim that day! I would never have pegged anybody I saw swimming that day for a national-level swimmer, much less an OLYMPIAN. It's so surprising sometimes to remember that Ireland is only 3 million people. I mean, really, that's half the size of CHICAGO. But yeah, I saw some Olympians swim on Sunday! Preeeetttyyy cool.

We have another meet coming up. They are not sure when. Seriously. It's either this Sunday or next, and it's IN Dublin, against Dublin City University, who apparently is terrible. If it's this Sunday, I'll definitely go, but if it's next, I've already got a ticket booked to London. My cousin Emmy lives there and we're going to do a little mock Thanksgiving. It will be adorable and precious and American. And maybe we'll watch Rocky IV.

So that's that! Miss everyone lots!

I'm Back, Nerds

(re: the title - I just wanted to make a Liz Lemon reference.) A number of semi-humorous things are currently happening in my life. I'll just make a list.

1) I went to see The Social Network the other day. This, in and of itself, is not terribly humorous. What is funny is how it happened. I was working on a paper Tuesday afternoon and got really stuck. I couldn't think of anything to say, my thoughts weren't going anywhere, you know the drill. I decided to look up the times for The Social Network, thinking if there was one later that night I could invite some people and make it like a reward for working hard throughout the day. You know, motivation for finishing my paper. When I googled the times, I discovered the only showing that day was at 3:30. It was currently 3:10. Impulsively, I decided to change my reward into a study break. I also decided to go alone. This was the first time I had ever been to a theater by myself, but I've always thought that that wouldn't be weird. I mean, once the lights go off, you can't talk to whoever you came with anyway. So I grabbed my coat and off I went to a matinee of The Social Network by myself.

Once I got there, I tried to go to the ticket booth. No one was standing there. I rang the little bell they put on the counter like 4 times. No one came. I tried shouting, "hello!" No one. I was the only person in the lobby besides the guy working the concession stand. I went up to that guy and asked him how to buy a ticket. He asked if anyone was at the ticket booth, I said no. He shrugged and was like, "Don't worry about it then. Just head on in." I was like, "Wait... seriously? Without buying a ticket?" He was like, "Sure, no problem. Just go on into the theater."

So in I went. I was the only person in the theater designated for The Social Network. As 3:30 drew closer, I began to wonder if anyone else was going to show up. No one did. And they played the movie for me anyway. I got a free private screening of the film. It was kind of awesome. What was awkward, however, was during the funny bits. I would laugh out loud and be the only person in the theater. That felt kind of weird. But overall, it was a very pleasant, although somewhat disconcerting, experience. Can you imagine someone in an American theater being like, "eh, just head on in without buying a ticket?" No. Never.

2) I am participating in a swim meet on Sunday. Or, as the Irish call it, a swim gala. I am swimming the 50 fly, 100 IM, and 100 free, plus two relays. Now. Keep in mind this is a collegiate swim meet. In America, you are not allowed to swim 50s competitively once you are eleven years of age. 50s are strictly for 10 and unders. (with the exception of the 50 free) Here, the only 100 available to swim is the IM and the free. I am swimming the 100 free because my coach wants to see me do "distance." The 100 free is distance. This is incredible. Also, I am 23 years old and a graduate student. I have not swum competitively in 5 years. I really feel like I'm in a time warp. I think the meet will be incredibly humorous. We're swimming against University College Dublin, for what it's worth. I just can't believe I am actually doing this. Annemarie is going to come, and she claims she is going to make a sign.

3) At a party last night, an Irish guy told me I was smart "for a woman." I don't even want to editorialize on that. I'll just say that one. Although I will tell you I was so enraged that later that night (probably two hours later), I was still fuming about it to anyone who would listen. The woman who sold me my chicken nuggets at McDonald's. My roommate when we met in the kitchen at around 3 a.m. I made Annemarie and my friend Mike listen to me rage about it at least three times each. I sent emails about it. I. Was. Furious. And probably pretty humorous to watch. I can't really think of anything else that has made me that angry off the top of my head. Now, in the light of day, I guess I can see it's mildly humorous that someone can both think that way and ADMIT OUT LOUD they think that way in the year 2010. Maybe humorous isn't quite the right word, but that's probably the correct word for what I'm sure was an outrageous display of rage in my reaction.

I will be home in less than a month!

More Procrastination

Today was one of those days when I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I was reminded of how much I love grad school, how much I'm beginning to feel at home in Galway, and how much I actually love what I'm studying. I think I pretty much have to be a student for as long as possible and then become a professor, because I actually can't think of anything else I want to do with my life. Mostly, I'm beginning to realize there IS a practical, real-world outlet for the insane, at times debilitating, nerdiness I've possessed since my earliest days of childhood. It's called academia, and it's probably the only place I belong, as sad as that may be.

ANYWAY. In keeping with the above and being a nerd, on Saturday I went to see Due Date with Annemarie. In the first place, it's pretty fun. I'd definitely recommend seeing it. It's no The Hangover, which is sort of what I was hoping for, but it was truly very funny. In the second place, there was one awesome joke that Annemarie and I laughed hysterically at, into a completely hushed and quiet theater. The joke was that Robert Downey Jr and Zach Galifinakis (I know I spelled that wrong, but since I acknowledged it, it's okay) are at a Western Union in Birmingham, Alabama, and Robert Downey Jr's wife is supposed to wire them money. Long story short, Zach Galifinakis's character gave the wrong name, so she wired it to the wrong name, so RD Jr says, "oh, so now my wife has to get back in her car, drive to another Western Union, and wire me money again?" The clerk says, "yeah, but she'll have to go do that tomorrow. We're closing in five minutes." RD Jr looks at his watch and says, "It's 6:35." The clerk then says, "Yeah, but I gotta meet my boys. We have dinner reservations at Chili's." RD Jr deadpans, "You have reservations... at Chili's?" Obviously no Irish people got it - I mean, why would they? - but Annemarie and I just died. It was probably the best part of the movie, or at least one of them, and the joke was totally lost on pretty much everyone in the audience. I also can't think of an Irish equivalent of Chili's, so I can't really think of a way to explain it to anyone I know should they happen to see it.

In totally unrelated news, my cousin Emmy just sent me an official evite invitation for her Thanksgiving in London. (sidenote: there is some serious irony inherent in the idea we're celebrating Thanksgiving in England.) I'm so excited! I get to see my cousin and her husband and her kid and also be in London. I will go to the Landward and the ND center and I will eat schawarma and Chipotle and I will walk along the Embankment and I will ride the Tube and it will be so awesome. LONDON I MISS YOU EVERY DAY YOU ARE THE MOST PERFECT CITY IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.

Full disclosure: I'm writing this update to avoid working on an essay I currently have writer's block on, and I've now run out of things to talk about.

Love love!

I Haven't Updated In Awhile

Now that I've devoted my last two entries to people who have called me out for never mentioning them in my blog, I hope that stage in my life has passed and I can move on and only mention people I care about. Kidding. Or AM I?!?!?

I am morphing into potentially the lamest person I know. I just don't want to go out anymore. For awhile I thought, "Maybe it's because it's cold," and then I remembered I used to live in South Bend, Indiana, and even 15-foot high snow drifts weren't stopping me during that period of my life. I once went to an outdoor keg race in a blizzard. That's a true story. Although I don't fully remember why it was outdoors, especially considering it was November in northern Indiana. And then the opposing team completely cheated and as a result, my team lost. I'm still not completely over that. And then I thought, "Maybe it's because I'm a grad student." But that doesn't really seem to be the problem, either. This is pretty comparable to the amount of work I did in undergrad and that never stopped me then, either. "20-page paper due tomorrow? House party? OKAY!" I think I'm just getting old, which is really depressing, but also saves me a lot of money because I don't have to do things like spend money on beer all the time anymore. Like now, for instance, I'm updating my blog at quarter to 11 on a Saturday night, trying realllyyyyy hard not to be ashamed of that fact (and failing) but at least I'm not spending 40 euros painting Galway red. That saved money will really come in handy when I go to AUSTRALIA!!!!

By the way, I'm going to Australia.

My cousin/best friend Beth, who is basically the coolest person I know (I mean that very seriously) has decided to move to Australia. Why is she doing this? Because she's really awesome, more awesome than I will ever be. I forget when exactly she's going - various months have been batted around - but she's going there, and she is going to live in Melbourne, and she will be awesome at it. I have always wanted to go to Australia, and when she told me she was going, I was like, "Perfect! This is the perfect time to go. And here are the reasons. 1) I will not have to pay for hotel rooms. 2) I won't have to find someone to go with me. 3) Flights to Australia from London are soooo much more reasonable than flights from Chicago to Australia, and I can fly to London for something like 30 euro. 4) I want to go to Australia." And then she told me our friend from high school/who she also went to college with (Christina) is ALSO moving to Australia, and I wept with joy.

So that is that. I am going! I am going to go after my second semester classes have ended. I'm spending my summer writing my dissertation, so I figure this will be a good little interlude between classes and dissertationing. I thought about waiting til August when I will have officially mastered the arts, but then I realized I could very well actually be broke by then, and if I blow a lot of money on Australia in May at least I can eat noodles all summer as penance. I also made her promise me that she'll take me to New Zealand, and she better make good on that, because that is one flight I'm not taking twice. I looked up flights already. I probably have to stop in Kuala Lumpur! KUALA LUMPUR! WHAT IS THAT? What in the world? MALAYSIA?? That just makes me think of Zoolander. I don't fully remember the plot of that movie, to be honest, but it had something to do with Malaysia. I think.

But Beth is going to Australia and I am going to invade her life for a really long time (2 weeks+, probably... like I said, one flight I'm not taking again) and it will be awesome. Anyone who's been, recommendations are welcome.

Other than that, not too much to report. Classes are going well - waiting to get back an essay I'm mildly stressed about, mostly because it's not on literature and let's face it, the only thing I can really speak with any kind of authority on is literature. And 30 Rock. But sadly, no academic classes are yet offered on 30 Rock. But if they were, I would teach them.

Oh, and this might seem really cavalier, but it's not meant to be. I just haven't updated with any kind of substance since this happened. I think on October 27, but I might have that date wrong, a Notre Dame junior named Declan Sullivan was tragically killed in an accident involving a hydraulic lift. This is really old by this point, and I'm sure most members of the Notre Dame community have read it, but seriously, if you want to be moved to tears by your alma mater, or if you're not an alum and you don't understand why all alums (myself included) are so obsessed with Notre Dame, this might help: http://amyunsettled.wordpress.com/2010/10/29/declan/. Also, Father Jenkins (ND president) recently released a statement taking responsibility for Declan's death, and honestly, after reading it, I wanted him to run for president. I'd link to that as well, but it was sent to me as an email and I can't find it online. Seriously, Father Jenkins. You do EVERYTHING right, or at least it really seems that way. That guy really makes me proud I went to ND. But really, so do a lot of things.

And then that's really it.

Also, Derrick Testa is Great

And so is everyone else I have failed to mention at any point. I am done with this now.

Katie Wanserski is My Favorite Person Ever

Also, she loves derb and is currently being shunned.