After roaming the planet my fair share this year, I am staying put. At least until next year. And I've decided that I am actually finally ready to contribute to the world and settle down. Maybe.
I feel that today, while I was going through customs today in Washingtin Dulles International, the customs official managed to put my life in perspective for me.
There were two customs officials screening US citizens and we were being seperated into two different lines just before we got to the counter. I was put in the line of the tall, well-built man with salt and pepper hair, glasses and a completely expressionless face. I noticed this guy seemed to be taking an extra amount of time with each person for while the short latino woman would screen through three people, yelling "NEXT!!!" after each one, Mr. Stare-into-your-eyes-to-see-if-you-are-lying-to-me would only screen one person. I was a little nervous because I had, in fact, snuck something I wasn't supposed to into the country. Frommage de Chevre. Well, actually Crottin de Chevre which is basically the best thing ever: french-made goat cheese.
When I got up to the counter, he eyed me suspiciously. I just hope he doesn't ask if I brought any food into the country, I thought. But instead he asked me the purpose of the trip.
"Vacation," I responded.
"Where did you go?"
"Uhhh...France, Switzerland, germany, Austria and Italy."
He gave me a quizical look and then asked what exactly took me to those places.
"Well, actually," I started. I thought for a moment and decided to give him the completely honest answer. "I graduated university and had no clue what to do with my life. So I figured 'Europe. Why not?'" Boyfriend could have been a psychologist. I might as well have been lying on a couch.
"And who paid for yout trip? That must have been expensive."
While he probably thought maybe some drug or human trafficing cartel was footing the bill, I took it a little differently considering what was bearing on my mind at the moment (becoming a real person with a real job in my own real apartment) .
"Listen," I said. "My dad did not pay for it. Okay, so I worked for his company for a couple months to earn the money, but it was me who earned the money."
In other words, I was begging to be respected even though I pretty much don't do anything. Clearly, he hit a nerve.
He continued to flip through my passport and ran over the various stamps and visas.
"Jordan, huh? What took you there?"
"I was doing an internship for the US embassy in Israel and I hopped over there while I had the chance."
Then came th look that drove it all home. His look clearly read: "So you have clearly had some amazing experiences in your life and yet here you remain jobless and directionless in search of your 'true calling' when in reality my dear you have to get a job and just do it like me for instance sitting here in this little booth you think i dreamed my little heart away about stamping peoples passports when I was a little kid but look at me this is what I do and it pays the bills and puts food on my kids table you little ungrateful brat who epitomizes what is wrong with the rising generation."
Meanwhile, the efficient latina had screened at least 5 people while I stood feeling like a parasite. All I can say in that guy should get a raise. Tough love. Very Hebrews 11. I finally feel ready to halt my gypsy ways for a moment and figure out my life. And as chance would have it, not 45 minutes later, waiting for my connecting flight to Phoenix, I ran into a lady from the Congo and started speaking lingala. She loved me immediately, which is not a feat with the Congolese: they love easily--especially if you speak lingala and will sing in lingala in busy airports. But turns out, Mrs. Decked-out-in-Marc-Jacob's husband of 26 years, an American, is the Vice President of an international NGO that is currently in 45 different countries. They have lived all over the world. She is convinced I was meant to work for them.
So we'll see...Maybe I can still be a gypsy AND have a real job.
5 comments:
I just got my first real pay check in about 6 months. It was a measly 400-and-something and it's already making me dream of far away places. Sweden and Italy might be in line for next summer. I keep hearing echos in my head of general authorities declaring that today's young adults are afraid to take on adult responibilites. Dang, I wish they weren't right all the time. I'm not afraid, there's just so much I still want to do. "O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,
and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the
struggle ever renew'd,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see
around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here--that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse." -Whitman
You are so funny Erin! I only wish I could have traveled to many places and have done the things you've done...you are still young.
go Erin! I love you! Keep traveling girl!
When you left Europe... Did they ask you these questions too? Because when I came to visit last year: they checked my carry on luggage like 100100x times. Then I had to tell who PAID for my trip (Al-Quaida, duh), what was I going to do there? Well uhm. let's see. (do you care) Family... oohhh Ohh.. Okay.. Have a good day.
Yeah right. You too lady!
By the way: that was only Amsterdam
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