the Scouse Reunion aka Home Away from Home Away from Home

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So I’ve decided that I am some kind of traveling bad ass and I leave all my travel plans for the absolute last second, which has caused me a lot of unneeded stress… because as you all know, my life is very, VERY stressful. Anyway, for my flight in Malaga, which is 2 hours away, I left my place 3 hours before my flight. Stupid. Even more stupid, I’m getting closer and closer to living in the hills with the gypsies financially so I refused to pay what I didn’t have to. To get to my flight, I had to transfer buses three times, refused a cab even though I only had 20 mins to make my flight, got hit on by a Moroccan guy at the bus station who’s best pick up line was, “Has anyone ever told you you’re pretty?” I was about to respond, “No, you are the only one who has EVER said I’m pretty” and then he told me he flies from Malaga often and knew a short cut to departures. He was late for his flight too, but he seemed like a drug mule, so I’m sure he had more to lose than I did, but we tore up the stairs, me literally clinging to his coat tails. Out of 20 gates, mine was of course 20 and as I ran I could see the orange EasyJet corridor being closed and I had to scream down 5 gates to let me on. Embarrassing. By the way, if you are embarrassed, don’t try to justify it by saying “Estoy embarrazado” because it doesn’t mean the same thing, it actually means “Your pregnant”, and I caused a lot of confusion at the gate by trying to be gracious.
No, that didn’t really happen. I mean I did run like a lunatic but my Spanish is better than that. Slightly. ANYWAY, once in line for the flight on the other side of that beautiful gate, I was in a sea of sunburned girls with scouse accents, and I let out a big sign of relief because I knew I was close to my home away from home; my beloved Liverpool. In a nutshell, the weekend was pretty uneventful, and mostly family oriented, which was exactly what I was looking for. On Saturday, my cousin took me to the footy (soccer game), but the Red’s (Liverpool) wasn’t in town so saw the Blue’s (Everton) instead, and as much as I would have preferred seeing my team, the game was really fun. The field is small and intimate, but the crowd is something unbelievable (my Ukrainian friends favorite English phrase). Most of the people at games, eat, dream and breathe only to watch their favorite team. I don’t care what any Seahawks fan says, you don’t know heart and soul until you see English football fans, especially at the last home game of the season. Songs were sung though the whole match, and when the team came on to thank their fans for a good season, people were in tears. Because of all the hooliganism, you aren’t allowed to take drinks to your seats, and at the close of the match a swarm of florescent coated police circle the field and the stands to be on guard. More police than at the WTO demo. It was terrifying and enthralling at the same time.
After the game we met my family for dinner, and it was truly an O’Donnell reunion because we drank the Packet Steamer out of house and home. Job well done, if I do say. Sunday we watched the Reds at a bar that my dad used to frequent, and I was decked out in all my new Liverpool stuff I bought at Anfield. I ran into tons of my dad’s friends who all said “The last time I saw you, you were this big”, and I explained to them that I’m hoping to be on the tail-end of my 23 year awkward stage.
The weekend was a refreshment. It rained all weekend in Liverpool and it was beautiful in Spain (which I knew would happen) but I go to Portugal next weekend so I'll get my sun. This week should be more exciting than last week (which is why I didn’t write) now that I have someone to wreck havoc with me who has no cell phone, no keys and doesn’t speak the language and is completely dependent on my demands. Muah ha ha. Can’t wait. I’m sure I will have stories to tell. Love you and miss you all.

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