My trip was pretty great. Possibly the best trip ever. Dublin was a lot of fun, and very good for the self esteem: I could navigate the city after one day, and I’ve never been hit on more in my life. I saw the bog men and shared a silent moment with a stranger in the Yeats exhibit and bought a ridiculous sexy secretary sweater and took a hot bath in water the color of Mountain Dew. Cringe was a lot of fun, although short two readers, and then in the cab back to the hotel my cab driver asked what I’d been up to and I started to tell him and he said, “Ah, wait. I heard you on the radio yesterday.”
Then I went to London and spent a week in Antonia’s living room and learned a hundred new slang/curse words, as well as a newfound love for Marmite, Yorkshire tea, and a certain Roberta Flack song. They taught me about the Profanisaurus, and I taught them about The Hills. London Cringe was possibly one of the funniest Cringes in the history of Cringe. I’m really looking forward to reading the submissions for the UK version of the book (which you can send in here). I had such a good time I even forgot about Halloween. Granted, I spent most of the day prone and hungover. I didn’t end up flying back that day anyway, because Nick called the airline to move my flight and told them I had “fallen ill” and needed to “stay indefinitely.” Nick is now my new travel agent, as well as the reason I didn’t end up in trouble with Homeland Security.
But I had to come home, and not just because I was running out of underwear, but because that whole voting thing was figuring pretty big. At first it was nice not to be checking websites with colored maps every few minutes, but then I felt guilty for not thinking about the election for a few days. Everywhere we went in Dublin, people heard the American accent and said, “Have you voted yet? Are you going to vote for Obama? Will you be home in time to vote?", like that had not been a consideration when booking travel. It was really refreshing to see how the foreign newspapers were so slanted towards Obama, and not just on their editorial pages. I was kind of nervous that we’d need Ireland and England to vote to get him in there, but we seemed to do it just fine ourselves. Yesterday, after voting, I was walking down the streets of my neighborhood in the best mood, all smiling at strangers and saying hello like I was in the opening scene of a fucking musical. I swung around lampposts and little birds helped me put on my sweater and a baby deer carried my groceries home. Then we all lowered the lights and listened to Billie Holiday and I’ve said too much already but it was so lovely.
Anyway, good job, America. I want to kiss you all during a ticker tape parade while wearing a nurse’s uniform. Dip me.