Anything Lime



Nomads

It’s hard to believe how fast the last two weeks have blended together into one violent tornado that has whipped me from state to state, into Advanced Auto Parts for a new car battery and onto my couch instead of the gym, which is why I like to believe I’m not at fault for feeling unprepared for the 5k I ran on the Fourth of July.

More than a week prior to that day, Patrick and I dropped off panda at K-9 Lounge where she spent the next five nights contemplating why exactly she, of all royal creatures, was so savagely thrown into such a wretched place where she had no other way to spend her days than to be humped or chewed by beagles attending daycare.

Filled with anticipation, we arrived at the airport right on schedule. We kept each other laughing as we waited to board our plane, which wasn’t difficult given the overwhelming supply of fat, ugly babies who were at that time prancing about Terminal B. I, unfortunately, had wasted all the charge in my phone’s battery recording the sound of my voice singing “Leaving on a Jet Plane” in the car on the way over, so I wasn’t able to take any pictures of the chubby little trolls. And friends, there’s no matching the kind of regret a person feels after something like that. THEY REALLY WERE THAT OUTRAGEOUS! And my song wasn’t even good.

We landed a bit late in Detroit, and as per usual, we followed the detailed pick-up protocol given to us by Patrick’s dad. This happens any time either of Patrick’s parents picks us up. “Ok, you’re going to leave the airport near the baggage claim, head five blocks north, take a shuttle to the east hotel entrance. Go to the concierge’s desk and ring the bell. A rope will drop from the ceiling. Pull the rope to open the floorboard where you’ll find a box of flares. Return to the curb, face west and use the flares to signal your location.”

We got to Patrick’s house and enjoyed a late-night meal with his dad. And by meal, I mean I had cheese and crackers and soup, and Patrick had eggs, which happened to be four of the only nine food items in the entire house.

The next morning we visited a few wedding venues and Patrick tested out a few new drivers before we headed to Fort Wayne, Indiana for the pre-wedding festivities of Patrick’s good friend, Jonny.

Patrick and Jonny met in college when Patrick, a fool, tried to hustle Jonny, a table tennis freak of nature, in a game of dormitory ping pong. Needless to say, Patrick lost his first game, and also, every game since then except one. Which is why playing ping pong with his friends until two in the morning was the best way for Jonny to spend his last day of bachelorhood.

The wedding was beautiful, magical even. The whole night was a good mixture of love and perfection and dancing and talking to strangers. And I was surprised how popular I made myself by yacking away to every person I came in contact with. Mom, maybe you’re right. Maybe I do talk way too much. Maybe.

The next place on our list of cities to hit was Huntington, IN. Haven’t heard of it? It’s a classic little Indiana town where Jesus would live if he were American. My friend Aimee was gracious enough to host the two of us and fill us with delicious foods. It was give and take though, because for every delicious bite of food I ate, I was viciously chomped by her dog, Murphy Ferocious. The whole situation made it clear that yes, Aimee DID in fact sell her soul to the devil in exchange for superior cooking skills, but must spend the rest of her life tending to an adorable little demon. Yes, he is adorable. THAT’S THE BEST/WORST PART!

I also got to see another good friend of mine, Christine, who joined us at Aimee’s, and we spent hours laughing and playing Apples to Apples. Hooray for re-living our favorite college pastimes. A little Christmas caroling and some bad mouthing the people we disliked in the journalism department would have made that night a classic case of deja vu. I even went three days without pooping, which even further instilled the feelings of being back in college.

The last stop on our list of places to visit was my dad’s house in Lake Orion, Michigan. My dad seemed really happy. And, while he’s not looking too healthy, he’s smiling more these days, and in some ways, that’s more important.

Five days, six cities, three parents, a bunch of good friends and a zillion memories. Like that one time I drank coffee with Jesus at Coffee D’Vine. I told you he’d live in Huntington.

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