And Then I Fell Out the Window

Life, examined and punted around


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Just can’t shake it

Travel is exhausting. Airports are stressful. Customs officers are rude. New places take energy to navigate, and hot climes wear me down. It’s easy to get burned out.

I hadn’t traveled solo since I studied abroad in Europe seven (God. Seven??) years ago, so I had to reacclimate. Belize was a great choice- the official language is English, the busses are plentiful and easy to use, and the people are friendly and helpful.

Still, after a week of sweaty hostel beds, sunburns, salt water showers, lonely stints, and paying for toilets, water bottle refills, I start to fantasize about my own bed, cooking my own meals, calling up my own friends.

So by the time I arrived in Chicago, I was ready to get home, wash the rank laundry in my bag, buy groceries, organize..

And yet. After a good shower, a good sleep, and good coffee at my cousin’s, I went to catch the El train to the Greyhound station, and as I stood in the gloomy air, staring down the infinity of the rail tracks and the rising buildings, I was ready to go again.

For a few seconds, I said, “Why not?” Chicago has museums to explore, chilly parks with tiny leaf buds on the trees, streets I haven’t walked down yet, bookstores I haven’t plundered yet. Why not? I thought.

But of course I dutifully continued to my Greyhound bus, plotting and scheming future uncomfortable, stressful, addictive journeys all the way home.

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