Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

off-topics

St. Pancras

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We stepped off Picidilly line in King’s Cross and enjoyed actual London air for just a moment before stepping into St. Pancras, bound for our Eurostar.

My father graciously lent me his set of luggage so I wouldn’t have to spend yet more money on wedding-related expenses. During my packing apocalypse last night it seemed practically, reasonably large, but now that I’m tumbling on and off the tube with it seems like massive, obnoxious American luggage. None of the Europeans have luggage this big – right at the weight limit even half packed. It even says “American Tourister” on it, in case its fatness was not a direct giveaway of my nationality.

(To be fair, my father warned me that it was a bit bigger than I needed. )

Last night’s panic attack subsided once we were safely installed in PHL and found someone who could explain the difference between the current my laptop would need versus the current that my electric razor requires. Elise keeps zipping off in directions that may or may not be correct, and I have to keep reminding her that I travel in completely the opposite way that I commute – I constantly stop to collect myself and check all of my pockets; I never hurry or jaywalk.

My “I don’t speak enough French” panic attack also subsided slightly once I realized that I’d have just as much trouble understanding fast-talking Londoners, slightly returned when I bumbled saying thank you to the border guard, and was greatly beaten back by understanding the customs signage (even though I was sure I had a word wrong) and reading the entire Obama cover article in Le Monde.

We didn’t dally too long in King’s Cross, but as a nod to our geekdom we have situated ourselves roughly at track nine and three quarters as we await our chariot to France.

frakking jet plane

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So, I know I have to catch you up on the most fantastic wedding ever (i.e., mine), but right now I am primarily concerned with how woefully unprepared I am to fly to Europe in about four hours.

Leaving aside for the moment that I lost my camera at my own wedding, which eliminates about 50% of the things I was planning to do in Europe, and that I don’t currently have any power adapters/converters appropriate for my laptop, which was how we were going to coordinate the other 50% of the things we were planning to do in Europe, I am only about halfway packed and I’m missing some very important items like pants and shoes.

Also, my time to practice speaking French in 2008 was absolutely null, so though I continue to read it at a surprising intermediate level, my speaking vocabulary is basically limited to conjugating lots of verbs – which would be great if I wanted to rudely boss people around the entire time we’re in Paris, but in that case I could just speak English.

Placing that on top of the fact that I really and truly despise extended travel to begin with and will be traveling sans guitar, right now my desire to leave the country – or, in fact, the house – is about equal to my desire to watch a week long marathon of Two and a Half Men, breaking once a day to re-watch all of Donovan McNabb’s worst throws from yesterday’s utterly perplexing (yet entirely unsurprising) loss to the Cardinals.

I’m registering all of this now so that hopefully we can all appreciate the difference when I am delightfully basking in the decadence of my longest vacation ever.

Lest we get too optimistic, please recall that I was requesting an airlift home after about 36 hours of Bonnaroo, which cost about a sixth as much as this international nonsense, and at least there I was surrounded by music.

Back to packing.

right now

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Elise,

For seven years you have been my best friend and closest companion. You helped me learn how to be more than myself. You kissed me in the rain and said, “I love you.” You taught me how to sing in harmony.

You are the first to assure me when I’m sure that I am wrong, the first to challenge me when I think that I am right, and the first to support me when I am sure that I must try something new.

You are more beautiful, more talented, more intelligent, and more perfect for me than any woman I could have ever imagined or dreamt – but you are something real.

Here, in the witness of all those we care about the most, I promise that I am united with you as a partner and an equal.

I promise to affirm and support you in every endeavor: in your career, at home, and anywhere else.

I promise that I will share with you my success, and seek your guidance in my challenges.

I promise to care for and protect you, through every sickness and concern.

I promise that the attention I devote to you when we are together is the devotion that remains when we are apart.

I promise that this day is neither a beginning nor an end, but a representation of the joy that radiates from us in the moments we share.

I promise that I’m still looking forward to this life with you more than a little bit.

I promise and solemnly vow in the witness of all those who care about us the most that I love you now, that I have loved you only, and that I will love you for the rest of my life.

here goes…

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Okay, here’s my last post as a bachelor.

Bride aside, I am surrounded by the five most awesome people in my life, and they are in rare, rare form. Ross bottled my special wedding lambic in blue bottles labeled with me! I’m on my bottles.

I don’t think life could be any better than it is at the moment.

See you on the other side.

Newt

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Our photographer is a gentleman named “Newt.”

“Like the little girl in Aliens!” I said.

“Um, sure. Or like a little gecko. And a boy.”