A Friendship Like This..

Back in 2007 Barack Obama was running for President of the the United States, and one of my roommates - K.R. - was working on his campaign in Hoboken, New Jersey. During the campaign she became friends with J.K., who was running the campaign headquarters. I got pulled into some volunteering for the campaign but somehow managed not to meet J.K. until after the victor was declared and she needed a place to stay. K.R. asked us if we would mind J.K. coming to stay with us for a few days while she found a new place to stay - and oh she would be bringing her pup, Shamu. Looking back, I am pretty sure Shamu is the only reason that we agreed to this stay. J.K. showed up three days after she was supposed to, I got home from work first and was supposed to let her in, each night I got there and waited only to have no one show up. I was over J.K. before I even met her. 

And on the third night - bam - Jen shows up. She was a whirlwind of flyaway red hair, bags, dog, and chatter. It was quite a first impression and boy was it accurate. It didn't matter that I hadn't met her - I was friends with K.R. and so instantly we were friends. There are very few people that are as open and accepting as J.K. and as I would learn over the next two weeks (not a few days) it was a bit like what I imagine living with Pippi Longstocking would be like. J.K. was a whirlwind of mothering and bad influence - she would cook us chicken pot pie while we were at work and then take us out and convince us that 5 tequila shots on a Tuesday was a good idea (they were not). She would clean the apartment and then read aloud from my trashy romances. She would drive us to Trader Joe's and then convince us that making out with a boy in a bar was totally classy (it never is). In two weeks we became life-long friends. Sure she moved on to someone else's couch and eventually find a place in Jersey City - but our friendship was set. 

Over the next year and a half, J.K. talked me into some of my most memorable and least memorable moments in all my time in New York. She was a voice of empowerment as I made big, life altering decisions; a wise sage as I tumbled and struggled with what I was doing with my life; a role model as I began to truly own my feminism; and the whisper in my ear as I took that 5th shot of tequila (yet again) and started hitting on the son of Mr. McFeely from Mr. Rogers (yes, true story).  

J.K. is one of those people who decides they are going to be your friend and there is no going back after that moment. She is the kind of friend that everyone needs in their life: the one you call when you need help no questions asked; when you need a complete confidence boost; when you need someone to give you that final push to take a plunge; and when you need someone to take you out and make you forget about all the crap that life is throwing at you. At 23, she was exactly the new friend I needed as I was getting my bearings in NYC. I can't think of my time up there without being flooded by memories of J.K.: dancing in the park, singing along to Miley Cyrus (no shame), figuring out how to eat gourmet on a shoe string budget, gossiping about dates, and long talks talks about changing the world. 

Two years after first meeting, J.K. announced that she was moving to Spain to teach English. She knew no one in Spain and was jumping without looking - very typical. Yet, in the way of J.K. she managed to overstay her Visa by years - leaving and re-entering the country without issue, made a tribe for herself, started a business, lived on a shoe string budget, fell in love, got married, started a family, and eventually landed in London right before Brexit. A whirlwind of adventure and perseverance. And our friendship has stayed strong through it all.

Last week we chatted and I promised to write a blog just for her as she and her family are dealing with some stressful times. I toyed with telling a tale from one of those tequila filled nights at Maxwell's, or one of the many times she pushed me out of my comfort zone; but when it came down to it I thought she could use a reminder as to what a ridiculously fabulous woman she is and a thank you for changing my life. I would not have had nearly as much fun or jumped quite as high had it not been for you, J.K. So thank you, there is truly no one else in the world quite like you and I am a better person for having you in my life. My love to you, L., and A. - if anyone can make it through this - it is the three of you! And always remember - that 5th shot is totally worth the story you will tell later. 

Stories from Standby

Dear readers, I’m in the middle of travel adventure- desperately trying to get down to Florida to help my parents out so that my Dad can get up to Minnesota for his brother’s funeral. Already emotional and chaotic circumstances but then add in a Windagedum here in DC yesterday when I was supposed to fly out and you can imagine where that leaves me: with a 17-hour travel day today. It began at 5 am when I arrived at the airport, per the insistent woman at American’s instructions, so that I could make it through TSA and be at the gate promptly for my priority standby. I made it through security in 20 minutes flat and stumbled through the terminal trying to find something open with caffeine - but not too much in case I did get on as I wanted to sleep. 30 minutes later, I’ve eaten a breakfast burrito and sucked down two glasses of terrible iced tea and decide I’ll just nap at the gate until 7:30 and then worry about paying prompt attention to the standby list.

I get to the gate settle in, plug my phone in, and prepare to crash..only to be blasted with a Windagedum-like gust of frigid air. Turns out my gate is next to the transfer door for the other gates, every couple minutes the helpful TSA agent opens the door to yell down to the bus driver that no one is waiting but it sure is busier than yesterday. I still manage to catch about 30 minutes of sleep- until the door gets stuck open and i admit defeat. It’s not even 7, the flight is set for 8:40...but st least people are starting to wake up so I can annoy people with texts and Instagram.

Around 7:30, the genesis for this story arrives. She’s about 5’2, 40ish, and full of pure cray-cray Mom-mess. She and her daughter were 3 and 5 on the standby list of 14. I am 7, i was higher yesterday, but i choose to believe she and her daughter are the reason I’ve been demoted. When they arrive they start in on with their sob story: They are on the way to a wedding in FL and just HAVE to get there. They waited all day in the airport yesterday. (Like this didn’t happen to thousands of people on the East Coast, but hers is more important because it’s her telling it apparentl). During the third telling of her saga, she pauses to check her phone and then announce - rather loudly- that the bride had just texted her to ask if her daughter can be a flower girl in the wedding that is taking place today! Apparently, another family is stuck in NYC and won’t make it! 😱 Obviously, now they must do everything they can to ensure they get on this flight- including saying a Hail Mary (out loud). She’s now furiously chatting up the people near her adding in “ maybe I’ll see if they can do an announcement asking if someone will give up their seat so my little girl can be a flower girl!” and then doing a little laugh and pause waiting to see if they will offer. When she says this to me, I tell her I hope not because I want one of those seats to get to a funeral. (Burn!) 

Sooooo, flash forward to when the standbys start getting called. There are 3 seats. First one goes to #10 on the list (I’m still baffled about this and they explained it twice to me) then 1 & 2 get called..1 doesn’t show up...so drumroll- Mom has a seat. Little girl start bawling. Mom starts walking up and down the line of boarding passengers going “anyone wanna give up their seat so a little girl can be a flower girl?” Meanwhile, I’ve now identified standby passenger #4 - who stands between crazy Mom and crying child - and he is pissed, because there are no more seats, so if she wrangles someone that surpasses him and he has no time for this crazy. 

Well, some woman who is trying to get Racine - yet is being routed through Tampa- looks at crying child and crazy mom, back and forth, back and forth- the standby crowd (all 6 of us) are watching, cringing and the she says it, “she can have my seat if they can get me on something going West.” We are fuming and the gate agent is fuming, because he knows he’s going to have a standby riot - plus everyone is now boarded BUT crazy Mom and Racine lady. He’s like - “ma’am you’d have to go to customer service to find out that” and then tries to explain why she can’t just hand her ticket to the kid to get on and then get a new one without charge! 

Racine realizes she has tried and it ain’t happening and proceeds to board. Which leaves Mom with a ticket, little girl crying, and #4 looking at Mom waiting for her to call it and give up her ticket. Gate agent goes, “Ma’am, are you going or not?” And damned if she doesn’t go- “oh I’m going. Sorry baby, but I’m going to go.” And goes to get on board. I swear you could hear a pin drop. Little girl is like 6, bawling her eyes out and finally gate agent is like- “what about her?!” Mom is like, “oh I’m calling her grandpa- he’s waiting outside security for her. She can walk down.” We’re like- what?! You’re just leaving her. Not even going to make sure she gets there?! After all that- you’re just getting on?! It was the craziest and coldest Mom move I’ve ever seen. Gate agent ended walking her down and got her to gramps (or some dude claiming to be her gramp for all we know). #4 looked devastated as his chance at warmth and FL sunshine were snatched away and I went and got coffee and wrote this up for my dear readers.

You’re welcome. 

Happy Saturday