As I left my humble home in Northeast Missouri and drove three hours to catch the nearest Megabus, I couldn't help but wonder what changes life would bring if my journey was successful. Would I successfully obtain my visa and continue on to the fabled fame and fortune I lusted for as a child? Would I finally get to meet my soulmate Ashley Olsen and pursue my dreams of becoming a renowned men's fashion journalist? Or, would I be serving up hot eats and cool treats at my local Dairy Queen if I failed?
It didn't matter what the outcome would be. I was boarding that bus like my life depended on it and from 1:15 a.m. to 6:50 a.m. I learned some valuable life lessons:
1. Bring a pillow despite your wavering judgement.
2. Benadryl cures a runny nose, but does nothing for a bus driver with Parkinson's.
3. Butts get more sleep than you do when traveling by bus.
4. That seat is really not going to recline any further.
5. And Megabus, though semi-affordable, should be used as a last resort.
Chicago. The traffic belongs in New York and the weather belongs in always-keeps-you-guessing Missouri. Generally, I would be game for a trip to a fairly-undiscovered metropolis, but today I mean business. A three-mile walk to the British Consulate, a two hour wait at Mcy D'z and profusely sweaty 45 minutes in the waiting room has brought me that sought after prize. Despite my poor attitude about having to complete two months of straight paperwork, I am breathing a sigh of relief and treating myself to an afternoon at Border's while I await the visa that about broke my spirit.
So, remember to dress like there's no tomorrow and enjoy life, because good things come to those who wait... even if you take a Megabus to get there.
This is fun. I look forward to each installment. Rosemarie
ReplyDeleteI LOVED it. Very well written and quite entertaining. Thanks & keep us posted : )
ReplyDeleteI would like to know why your fucking four star accomodations at Casa Mather were not listed. And your fabulously quick car ride "waiting...waiting" were not part of this narrative. As usual, it is all about me. FYI I believe you should also mention something about pussybone. Oh-and in response to your text-i am simultaneously composing my hero theme music, singing like bette midler, and wearing butterfly shirts like mariah carey.
ReplyDeleteps. I hope no anti-cursing people are offended by above quote. Only generated to make Anthony laugh.
ReplyDeleteHA! I love that this is all perspiring... I hope you are all ready for the ride!
ReplyDeleteOh Anthony - you can't serve ice cream at Dairy Queen. There isn't one there....and I have had the full tour. So, in conclusion, and furthermore, and irregardless of your meanderings, in your subconscious, you never doubted that this day would come and that's a good insight from Megan Vickers. Free of charge of course.
ReplyDeleteAnd Mary - seriously. seriously. Did Anthony let you keep butterfly shirts? If so, Anthony, you cannot raid my closet.
Mysterious packages....bum bum bum
SOOOOO excited for the mysterious package!!! I hope they don't make me open it in front of them at the London post office like they do in prison... Will I be embarrassed?
ReplyDeletecheerio!
ReplyDeletethat was a test. I could not get this blog thing to work last night. extremely frustrating.
ReplyDeletemost frustrating is that i cannot remember the lovely witticisms that I composed last evening. something to do with butterfly shirts and how i do not own anything with butterflies, bows, or flowers as i do not want to enable the general populace with labeling me as a twelve year old.
also. as i have only seen the product of your closet vomiting up clothes in all the common areas of your home, i would be extremely interested to see anthony raid your actual closet. just to be forewarned though, he did raid pantry and then never called it back. my pantry was violated and did not receive any consolation from anthony hagan after their one night tryst. just warn your closet not to take it personally.