It all started at 5:30am on Friday, Eastern Time.

I was a starry-eyed girl with big dreams and a taste for an adventure, and what an adventure it has been.  I hopped into my parents’ minivan in the small coastal Rhode Island town where we were vacationing.  After a 45-minute drive to Providence, I hopped a bus that would take me to Logan Airport in Boston.  According to the original plan, I was supposed to fly from Boston to O’Hare to Delhi to Mumbai.  The storms in Chicago threw off all the flights going in.  My flight was delayed two and a half hours.  It was also overbooked and I ended up getting bumped back two more flights and walking about four miles between gates, thereby missing my first connection to Delhi.  After seven hours I finally got on a flight to Chicago, my parents started driving back to Chicago early, and my uncle let me sleep over at his place because my mom had my house keys.  My cab driver from the airport was so smelly I was literally almost suffocating with the windows rolled down.  It was as if my dad had finished working out and then sat in a hot cab cooking for eight hours.  Yes, I know it’s not his fault, but it was smelly nonetheless.

The next day I got to O’Hare, now scheduled to leave on that day’s flight to Dehli, got dropped off at the wrong terminal, found the right terminal, exchange all my dollars for rupees, and waited patiently at the Delhi gate.  It was overbooked.  I didn’t get on.  Again.  When the woman at the counter saw me burst into tears, she offered to help me get to India.  She pushed me onto a flight to Brussels, which I also ended up not being able to get onto.  The man at the counter told me to sit and wait for a call from baggage claim about my bags.

After a half hour, I asked someone else at the counter about my bags, and she told me to go down to baggage claim and ask them.  So I went down there, and they told me I was supposed to wait upstairs for a phone call, and I should sit and wait at the carousel for an hour because they’d show up there.  My dad came to get me.  The bags never showed up on the carousel.  I waited at baggage claim for six hours while my dad went around and had nearly everyone in baggage service looking for my bags.  They were no where to be found.  Feeling defeated, I went home.

In the morning I’ll know if my bags ended up in Brussels or Delhi, and then in the evening I will 100% FOR SURE be on a flight to Mumbai.  Possibly with two new bags of new stuff.

I haven’t cried this much in a really long time, but hey, third time’s a charm I guess.  Wish me luck!

Comments    Travel     TAGS: bad day, boston, brussels, chicago, delhi, india, logan airport, mumbai

What is this delectable treat, you might ask?  A jelly doughnut?  NO.

This marvelous, Polish pastry is called “pączki.” Pączki is actually the plural form, but, let’s be honest.  No one eats just one.

On the same lines as Mardi Gras, Polish people have Pączki Day.  Traditionally it’s celebrated on “Fat Thursday” (the Thursday before Ash Wednesday).  But in America most Polish Americans or people who think they’re Polish whenever it’s convenient or involves a reason to gorge themselves on food celebrate it on Fat Tuesday.

In Chicago, there’s a large community of first and second generation Polish immigrants who celebrate on Fat Thursday.  I vividly remember celebrating both Fat Thursday and Fat Tuesday in the same year, and I see nothing wrong with embracing tradition and returning to my semi-Polish roots.

On a side note, in the spirit of trying to be a better Catholic, I’m doing a few things for Lent:

1. I’m giving up elevators. Yes. Elevators.  I’m a really persuasive person, but unfortunately that means I’m really good at convincing myself that taking the elevator is a great idea. No more!  Maybe I’ll have sweet calves at the end of the 40 days.
2. I’m taking five minutes a day where I do absolutely nothing.  I don’t work on stuff, I don’t move, I don’t think.  I do absolutely nothing (other than breathe, duh).  I have the bad habit of letting all the stupid little things clog up my life, and there are very few days when I just stop.
3. I’m going to try to go to church at least once a week.  There is a chapel literally 500 yards from my apartment.  I suck.
4. I’m going to try to eat healthy, natural, and organic foods.  This one is going to be tough, and there’s a good chance I won’t live up to it.  98% of my food budget comes in the form of a meal plan.  Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m eating chicken or tuna, let alone if it’s natural and organic.

Well.  There you have it.  Hopefully in 40 days I will be a better person, but judging by my past Lents, I’ll just wind up sitting in a pile of yarn and cheetos crying about how much I suck.

Comments    Life     TAGS: ash wednesday, catholic, catholicism, chicago, church, elevators, fat thursday, fat tuesday, food, lent, mardi gras, pączki, pastries, poland, polish

1. They played the Tokyo Drift theme song in the weights room
   

   Never enough me.

2. Reached muscle failure on every weights machine!  Such a champ!
   

   Buy one get one free!

3. MY INTERNSHIP GAVE ME A SECOND MONITOR IN MY CUBICLE
   

   BEST PICTURE EVER.

4. Flying home!
   

   I was the original character in the game. They couldn't afford me.

5. Helping my friend move into her grownup apartment
   

   Velour tracksuits do not need photoshopping.

6. MY FAVORITE BAND IS PLAYING IN MY HOMETOWN TOMORROW NIGHT
   

   LUDO!

7. Flying back to st paul
   

   Pretend it's in the opposite direction. KTHX!

8. Redhead date night!
   

   BACK OFF BRAH

I was supposed to see some friends I haven’t seen in a year and a half, too, but I just found out they’re not going to make it

But my weekend will be spectacular regardless!

Comments    Life, Photoshopped     TAGS: awesome weekend, best friend, chicago, cubicle, flying, getting buff, lolcat, ludo, photoshopped, shake weights, st. paul, tokyo drift, work

I’m currently sitting in MSP at gate E12 waiting to get on my flight to Chicago. I’m hungry and sleepy and someone in close proximity reeks of mothballs.

I’m excited to go home for Saturday though because I’m grabbing my car and driving to Milwaukee for the day to attend Irish Fest and see all my Northern Ireland Young Ambassador buddies! I also get to see my favorite 19-year-old brother who was MIA during my previous 18-hour flyby at home between Europe and school.

I’m all moved in at school into my swanky 70′s on campus apartment. My closet doors are all bright orange. I’m sure you’re jealous.

Starting Sunday I have two straight weeks of Resident Advisor training, so don’t expect to hear much from me. I’ll probably be curled up in the fetal position somewhere wishing I was careless in Europe again.

Welp, I’m boarding. Talk to you all again soon :]

Comments    Life     TAGS: airports, chicago, home, irish fest, msp, my apartment, ord, st. paul