Wednesday, 2nd January, 2008

...And a Happy New Year

photo thaumata

Minus sixteen degrees. MINUS SIXTEEN FUCKING DEGREES.

Hi, I'm in Chicago It's quite cold here. Erin's been down for over a week now, so let me just get yous up to speed:

...

Christmas itself was 'pleasant'. It was really great to see my sister, brother (and family) and assorted parents. My nephew has turned from what appeared to be a form of previously undiscovered alien life (resembling Phil Mitchell) into what can only be described as "Teh Cuteness" — a little chubby bundle of giggles, and one that knows instinctively when the camera is on him so as to pull the most adorable face every time you click the shutter.

(Takes after his Auntie Siobhan that one does. Haha)

It was also great to see my Gran with him — she's losing the plot more and more each day, but for some reason the minute my brother and his wife turned up with her great grandson, she perked up and seemed to completely grasp what was going on.

(I have a great picture that I took of the four generations — my Gran, my Dad, my brother and my nephew — all messing around. But you'll excuse me I'm sure if I don't post it here)

Before we visited my Gran though, we stopped off at a pub for food (and — in my case — a couple of pints), and I dropped the bombshell.

"So tell us about Amiee then"

"Oh, you'll love her. She's wonderful, intelligent, beautiful, and she plays the piano"

"And you're off to Chicago on Friday?"

"Yeah. Um, actually, what are yous doing in August by the way?"

My mother claimed she'd already put two and two together, and my dad bought me another pint. I don't really know why I was worried about it all — I think it was mostly to do with how we're not really a close family, and we don't often talk about stuff like that.

But also, I think, I was worried (a) about the faith-crushing disappointment that I presumed my mother would have to find out we're not doing the ceremony in a church, and (b) that they'd think this was all some rushed thing, and not take it seriously.

I mean, obviously, it was mentioned that it seemed rather sudden, but that wasn't an issue at all (it's not for us, so why should it be for anyone else?), and equally, I think they were just so pleased for us both that I don't think they're at all fussed about how we do it.

The next day, after the whole family had congregated (ha!) at a little church for my nephew's christening, my sister-in-law started making champagne toasts over lunch. She toasted everyone for coming, and toasted her son (natch)...

"And I wanted to toast Graham and Amiee, who've just decided to tie the knot"

I moan about my family sometimes, but I do love them.

...

The look on my sister's face though, at 3am last Friday was not one of "love". It was more of a "I can't believe I agreed to get up at this STUPID FUCKING RIDICULOUS TIME OF THE MORNING to take you to the airport"

As much as I'm sure you don't want to hear the ins-and-outs of the journey across to the States, there are a couple of things I should detail.

Fisrtly, the flight from Manchester to Paris was full of families on their way to Euro Disney. Families = CHILDREN.

Actually, it wasn't the children that were annoying, it was their panicky parents. There was a little boy sat near me, who started to fret as the plane was taking off. "I don't like this daddy" he cried.

Now, if you know me at all, you'll know that I don't like flying. It's not so much the actual flying part of it — it's the potential for nasty painful crashy-type plummeting-based deaths that go hand in hand with the whole process. But I'm usually OK once I get in the air — my cowardice gets replaced by a general impatience and boredom.

The woman in front of me though, was not so relaxed. As the plane was taxiing, she started to fret about every single 'out of the ordinary' noise that the plane made. And as we hurtled down the runway, she started to scream and grab the hands of the passengers to her left and right.

Which didn't exactly fill the little boy full of confidence much, I have to say.

Charles De Gaulles wasn't exactly the most stimulating airport I've ever been in. I'd originally had five hours to spend there, but because of delays (and stuff) that was reduced down to two — so I grabbed a coffee and pottered around the duty free.

I'm a little bit annoyed with myself, to be honest, that despite being surrounded by French people, and despite considering myself to be, whilst not fluent, at least able to muster-up enough French to be able to order a coffee, I completely chickened out and spoke ENglish the whole time.

Even to the point of saying "thank you" instead of "merci".

I think I was worried that they'd all just look at me, and be insulted by my poor attempts to talk their language. So I didn't bother.

...

The flight to Chicago was tedious. I'd managed to land myself one of the front seats — the ones with the legroom — which was nice. But I struggled with the Heath-Robinson TV screens for most of the flight. And the films were (a) a bit shit, and (b) had this really annoying thing where they would stutter every few seconds.

So I read a book instead.

Actually, I read two books — or at least, started one, then quickly switched to another. See, a few days before, in Waterstones in the Trafford Centre in Manchester, I'd asked my sister to recommend me something to read. "Something that I'm going to find funny", I said.

"This one had me in stitches", she said, passing me a paperback she'd lifted off the crime section shelves.

I have no idea whether she meant to do this (Amiee found it very funny, and reckoned that it was totally on purpose), but within the first five pages, I was reading a very descriptive account of a plane crash.

Thanks Sarah

...

As usual, US Immigration were mean to me.

"What's the purpose of your visit?" asked the grumpy man who'd just had to deal with an entire flight of French-speaking tourists.

"I'm visiting some friends for New Year", I answered, in a shakey way, because I dunno about you but the minute someone in authority starts talking to me, I adopt the stance of someone who is obviously doing something wrong, even when I'm not.

"And how do you know these people?"

"Through some work that I do"

"What do you do?"

"I'm a lecturer"

"And what work was it?"

"It was some online stuff"

"Have you actually met these people before?"

I should mention here that it had been recommended by various people that I shouldn't stand there and say "I'm coming across to spend New Year with my fiancée, who I met online" — which, even though being totally true, doesn't exactly sound anything other than "Oh hi. I'm trying to sneak into your country by marrying someone I met on the internets"

"And what is the food that you've brought?"

See, I panicked on the plane with the Customs form. Despite being told repeatedly not to bring gifts for everyone, I'd grabbed a few bags of sweets from Selfridges because I didn't want to seem like The Ungrateful Sod Coming Over To The States At The Holidays With Nothing To Give Anyone™

And I suddenly thought "Shit. Sweets are food. I'd better declare them"

"It's just some candy"

Grumpy-grumpy-stampy-stampy-green-form-stapled

The Customs guys were a lot nicer though.

"What food is it? Just candy?"

"Yup"

"Welcome to the US! Have a great stay!"

Aw

...

I almost couldn't believe I wasn't dreaming, when I was stood outside Chicago airport, hugging Amiee tightly, waiting for her sister's car to pick us up. I know it had only been just over a week since we said our (tearful) goodbyes at Manchester, but I missed her so much during the whole time.

As we drove to her house, I just kept staring out the window, thinking "Holy shit. I'm in America"

It's weird, but let me try to explain ... I think that in the past, every time I've come over here, it's been a long time in the planning. All those trips to SCC and New York — they were all the result of tickets bought well in advance of the event.

This though, kinda took me by surprise — not in a bad way, but in a natural way. I think maybe what I'm trying to say is that before, it was all a Big Event™ — here's me going on an adventure to the States, whereas this time it's more of a "I'm doing the most natural thing in the world".

I'm still, obviously — even almost a week into the trip — walking around with my mouth wide open at things ("Ooooh! Big!"), and some things are taking a while to stop freaking me out (like turning left in traffic — I keep thinking we're going to crash). But just spending time with Thau, and her family, is feeling so relaxed — like it's Meant To Be™

Which is good

Things to mention:

1. I really like her family. They're all incredibly nice, and welcoming.

2. I like her dogs. Let me run that by you again. I. LIKE. HER. DOGS.

...

So far, we've been out a couple of times — mostly just around the neighbourhood. It's really too cold to be heading into the city. Which is fine by me, I'm still in that "Oooh. Look at this!" stage.

They have — for example — been showing me the lights on the houses here, and how we in the UK just really fail when it comes to House Bling.

Seriously — there are some houses here that would drain the National Grid back home.

Mostly though, we've just been curled up together. Which is heaven for me

...

On the plane on the way over, one of my eyes was giving me gip. I dunno what it was (or rather, I didn't know at the time what it was), but it was incredibly itchy, and naturally I kept rubbing it.

By the time I got here, both my eyelids were pretty swollen. They went down a fair bit since then (leaving what Amiee assures me is a sty), but on New Years Eve, her sister's dog managed to thwack me in the other eye with his tail.

I thought nothing of it at the time, but as the evening progressed, it irritated me more and more, to the point of eventually being quite sore.

If you read her blog, you'll know that she's worried that I've got an eye infection, but even though she's got considerable experience in these sorts of things (having worked at an eye hospital for ages), I'm doing that classic British Man Thing™ of 'not wanting to cause a fuss'. Partly because I think it'll go down by itself, partly because I'm (at the end of the day) a typically stubborn bloke when it comes to things like this, and partly because I don't really want to have to go to a hospital here and test just exactly what my travel insurance covers.

...

Anyway, it's all good. I'm having a wonderful time with her here — seeing her in her 'natural habitat' as it were. My body is still a little stuck in UK time (I'm waking up a lot earlier than everyone else), but aside from that — and the slight culture shock that goes with trips to the States — I'm just so happy that this feels so natural.

I think you just know when something is right, don't you?

...

Before I get too gushy though, here's a picture of her sister's cat trying to pull my hair out...

Hopefully my sister will figure out how to reboot Erin the next time whe goes to mine to feed Biscuit. In the meantime, Happy New Year, from a slightly shivery — but very happy me.