Day 6 German Adventure

They say ignorance is bliss.  So if that is the case than is it better to never have experienced something thus never knowing what you're missing or is it better to have known the experience and deal with the aftereffects?  I suppose this applies to nearly anything in life but let's just address why I'm mentioning this right now at all.

 

We've been planning this meet up for 4 years, S and I.  Have talked endlessly about what we would do and see.  We had even discussed what would happen at the airport when I would come out and see her standing there.  Our guess was that we would run to each other in slow motion, fling ourselves in each others arms with a combination of laughter and tears.  I can confirm this happened precisely as we envisioned it with a lot of 'I can't believe I'm here' and 'I can't believe you're here' thrown into the mix.  Now it's over and there's a bizarre emptiness that wasn't there before although it feels like I've known her for far more than the measly 4 that we've been acquainted.  Is this emptiness worth it is what I'm wondering. Spending a few days with her then going home and not have a clue as to when we'll be together again is a special brand of torture. She lives in one place far, far away and I live in another and it's not like we're even within the same boarders or for that matter in the same continent even! 

 

Last night after a fantastic evening out at what has now become our fav bar, Kakadu, S and I came home and promptly broke down into tears. And we cried...a lot.  I tried to keep it together until I heard her sobbing in the bathroom at which point I sat down on my bed staring off into space and let the tears flow.  I wasn't sure how I would say bye to her.  Note that I'm using the word 'bye' not 'goodbye'.

This morning I woke up with slightly puffy eyes and avoided as much eye contact with her as possible, going through the motions of packing, taking a shower, dressing, doing my hair...all the while unable to swallow the lump that seemed to be lodged in my throat.  No matter how I tried to get rid of it, it stubbornly remained in place.  Dumb lump.

 

After closing the suitcase we still had enough time to grab lunch at a local pizzeria.  What goes fantastically great with thin crust?  Why a side of tears, of course!  I quipped that S resembled Stevie Wonder with her black shades which where hiding red teary equally puffy eyes.  But the silence in-between spoke volumes and neither one of us were forgetting the inevitable.  In fact, the avoiding of each others gazes kept on going for the instant we locked eyes?  It was on.  As I glanced up at the clock and not read 12:05pm, my heart sank and nausea had me taking large sips of my soda.  By 12:15pm we left, walking agonizingly slowly the 2 blocks back to her place to retrieve my bags.

 

Considering the nonstop waterworks since well before getting to the airport (as in yesterday), I joked (weakly) that she should just slow the car down at the drop off point, I would jump out of the speeding vehicle and she could simply toss my suitcases after me and keep it moving. She agreed (while her face crumpled into a fresh bought of tears) and added to the joke in general and even repeated it a few times when the heartache became too unbearable. I think to some extent the need for levity was important but the heaviness of our hearts outweighed our success. We in fact failed miserably.

 

I wanted to take pictures of her place to keep as a reminder but then realized that there would be little chance I would ever forget anyhow. Her home has been etched into my mind forever because for 5 days without a doubt it has been mine. That space has now become as familiar to me as my own home and ever so dear. Even as I type this I can picture the fan that she has dangled with earrings. The beautiful bejeweled boxes stacked on the coffee table, the hand decorated diyas on the window sill next to the shelving unit that contained so many spices of exotic origin that I barely recognized all of them. I will never walk by a Lush store again and not think of her bathroom which contains what seems like a mind boggling array of products that all smell heavenly and well...like her.

 

Hauling the suitcases down 6 flights of windy stairs was an adventure in itself however, S, the badass, did it without breaking a sweat.  I felt like I was ready to live perm on at about the 3rd floor.  Well actually going down those stairs are a damn snap considering all the going ups we did.   At 4 am in the morning, plodding up those winding steps was my least favorite thing to do but I was also quite proud of myself that by the time the last day arrived because I was doing it without feeling as if I would pass out from the exertion. 

 

Shoving the suitcase into her small adorable red hatchback we pulled out of the neighborhood and I took more mental snapshots. As she hit the Autobahn at about 200mph (well it damn near felt like it), I drank in the now familiar sights. We got to the airport much too fast and no, she didn't throw the suitcases out the car and keep going. But the departure from one another was brief. We hugged, cried and I shooed.  If I had to be honest, she basically ran away.  I watched her drive off and felt...helpless because I knew she would be crying all the way home.  I hated that idea.

 

So...was this trip worth the tears at the end?  Missing her?  The honest emptiness I now feel without her near me, my sistah from another mistah?  Yes. But my heart doesn't agree with me. It's sorta pissed at me right now. And it's exacting revenge by squeezing the hell out of itself. Sadistic organ that it is.

 

I'm at the terminal now, B44.  The flight has boarded even taken off. It's packed in here and hot too. I suppose that's what I expect anyhow and right at present the idea of having a layover in Turkey no longer thrills me. Maybe I just want to go home to my bed or because to be honest I'm not sure what to do once in Turkey. I was told I would get a free hotel room because I had such a long layover but the douchebag in Frankfurt inquiry desk said it wasn't their fault I had such a long layover and could have caught an earlier plane hence they had no obligation to provide me with a hotel room.  I'm what?  He said it was my "personal" reason as to why I chose this particular return flight. 

 

Wait, huh?  Of course it was my own personal reason.  Hell my whole journey regardless of work or no work, is personal. I am a person. It's personal.  I asked him why it mattered regardless because if I have business in Turkey (which I don't) and the extended timing works better than how does it matter?  The airlines policy clearly states anything over an 8 hour layover and the airlines provides accommodations. Period.  He snarked back with a arrogant shrug that he knew the policy and had just told me it.  I looked at him deadpan and said, "maybe you need to brush up on your reading comprehension" and left. The sorrow of being parted from my dear one didn't put me in a good state hence he was my victim and rightfully so.

 

But as he sneeringly suggested (which is what I had intended to do anyhow) once at the airport I'll ask my way to the reservations counter and figure crap out. My ultimate destination really is The Blue Mosque. If I can do 2 rakas of namaz there then allhamdulillah, I will consider this stop off well worth it. Of course I wouldn't mind squeezing some shopping and coffee into the mix but oh well...

 

Talking about shopping. I was severely disappointed in myself this morning as I packed. I hadn't realized that I barely bought anything.  My bank account is thrilled but for the most part my expenditures were in the food/drink arena. The few souvenirs I bought were hastily purchased.  Seems to me like the older I get the lazier I am about spending excessive time or money on shopping when all it really does anyhow is that I receive a temporary sense of gratification due to the action but at the end it becomes another piece of nonsense collecting dust in my closet.

 

Anyhow fast forward with me trying to make it through security where they body checked me to the point where I thought it was more appropriate that the lady there should buy me dinner at least after coping all those fields but oh well, her thrill. I got to the next level of security and the lady looked at me a little surprised. She asked why I had laid over through turkey instead of going straight to and from Germany and I laughed because by this time I had asked myself this very similar question many times and explained why. She smiled and declared that I was an "active and adventurous" soul which I took as stupid as a bag of rocks. She wouldn't have been too far off the mark.  But I knew she was being friendly.

 

I also so miscalculated how much wait time I had at Frankfurt Airport because I decided to settle down and have a yummy looking ice cream soda icey thingie concoction that was totally calling my name. It took a while for the order to be up and yes, at first taste I was in love...until...(Why are there so many until's in my damn stories?  Just hell...I really should write a book about my life...wait I already have, never mind).

 

Until, I decided to glance at the ticket to confirm gate. It was at this point when my eyes zero'ed in on the boarding time. 2:45.  I looked at my phone watch.  2:40.  Oh shiznit.

 

I sucked down that drink so fast that I managed to give myself one blazing ass brain freeze (by this point I had to question how that had happened when clearly I wasn't in possession of a brain by all my prior actions anyhow), paid the bill and hoofed it to the gate at top speeds. That didn't stop me from making a quick pit stop at the store to buy P a Germany futbol jersey (which he totally adored).  By the time I had made it to the gate I was super annoyed to see that folks were very much lounging around as if there wasn't a plane to catch. Mmmm...k. So I got my workout for the day I suppose.  I must say though, even the boarding of the plane, when it began, seemed lackadaisical.  People seemed to just meander up to the gate and get on with a shrug.  In Turkey there was a queue around the damn corner before the boarding was even announced and I admit that even in the USA people are pretty anxious. 

 

I so love the European mentality.

 

I don't even recall who I sat next to during that leg of the journey. All I remember with clarity as we taxi-ed into the skies was that I cried and sniffled and was gripped with an intense feeling of loneliness. I missed S and that was my clearest memory.

 

I ate a little, I know I didn't sleep. By the time service had been completed we were already starting to descend into Ataturk Airport.  I took a deep breath preparing myself for more adventures.