are you two friends?

Best. Weekend. Ever.

I know this is a much anticipated post and I can only hope I both do justice to my weekend and satisfy my readers! I've become aware that this blog is becoming increasingly wider-read and appreciate all of the comments, praise, and feedback I have been given. Hearing from my readers is incredibly encouraging as I know people, for once in my life, are paying attention to what I have to say.

So put on the coffee, I've got a lot to share; I spent my entire flight back today outlining this post!

Thursday morning was THE most miserable, rainy morning I have experienced thus far in Boston. It was down-pouring like you wouldn't believe, and I had a huge bag, suitcase, and umbrella I was simultaneously trying to manage. Not to mention, the bus was on time for the first time EVER, and I watched it fly by my house from my bedroom window. I could only hope that this would be the extent of my bad luck.

Early that afternoon, I pulled up the Internet to check my flight status. I had specifically booked a direct from Boston to Buffalo, with the intent to sleep the entire way there. Turns out that US Air had completely cancelled the flight and had failed to email or call to inform me of the change of plans. Great! I set Kathy on that one and was re-booked on a Boston to Philly, Philly to Buffalo, with a 10:00 PM arrival. No problem, really, I would be getting in at the exact same time, just traveling a whole lot larger distance, with an increased percentage of dying from plane failure, as I'd be riding on 2 instead of 1.

As I settled into my seat on the plane, a Carl Chasse look-a-like plunked himself down next to me. His name was Brian, and he wanted to know way more about me than I ever wanted to share. I was already cranky because by that point, we were already 30 minutes past our originally scheduled departure time. Carl-Brian kept chatting even though I was barely responding; I was sitting there, wringing my hands, nervous that I was going to miss my connection in Philly, and be super pissed. He asked me what was wrong, and I gave him some bogus, negative response about how I didn't want to miss my next flight. The girl behind me overheard, and unbelievably-annoyingly joined into the conversation about all we had to do was think positive and be spirited and cheery and we would totally not have an issue in Philadelphia. Turns out she too was headed for Buffalo that evening. Jessica works for Liberty Mutual in downtown Boston, but is originally from upstate New York. She was the brightest spark I've ever met in my entire life; she had people doing the wave on the plane, chanting some O-H-I-O fight song, and bragging extensively about how she hadn't spent a single weekend in Boston in over 6 months. She cited extensive family reunions and get-togethers, but I guessed an obnoxious tone and fake demeanor left her friendless.

We finally arrived in Philly 5 minutes after my flight to Buffalo was scheduled to leave, and unsure if we had made the connection or not, we were prepared to make a run for it. Due to ridiculous baggage-handling costs, carry-on luggage on planes has increased exponentially, which resulted in me having to put my suitcase in an overhead bin behind me. I realized this mid-flight, and rekindled my friendship with Carl-Brian, as I knew I could count on him to block everyone behind me so I could run back, get my bag, and make a run for the terminal.

I get into the airport and start sprinting for my gate, trying to figure out if I should roll my suitcase or carry it. I've got these strappy flat sandals on that have absolutely no traction control, and I'm slipping and sliding all over the marble (or something equally shiny and slippery) floor, looking like a golden retriever on hardwood floors. I get to the gate and see the end of the line snaking around the counter, into the jetway. Relieved, I slow down and saunter onto the plane.

I settle into a pretty blonde and a huge Asian girl with multiple facial piercings who has even brought her own blanket onto the plane. The blonde starts writing out a card to her mother about how excited she is to be spending the weekend with her (which I couldn't figure out when she would be giving to her) and my heavyset friend completely passes out. None of it mattered to me; I was smiling like you wouldn't believe, excited that I would be seeing my friends in such a short time.

I also sat in gum at some point on my flight, so if anyone knows how to get that out of pants, let me know.

I finally saw the sun, though! Granted, I had to fly above the clouds to find it, but after 27 days of rain in Boston, it was suuuuuuch a nice sight.

I wasn't received glamorously or like something out of a movie scene; Courtney, Katy, and Michelle, Court's BIFF from home picked me up outside the rental car drop-off. I didn't expect anything different, and was just so happy to see everyone.

Thursday night was quiet; we spent a lot of time chatting and catching up. The three of us slept in Court's queen-sized bed, but Court didn't make it through the night, as Katy is a terrible co-bedder. Poor Court ended up on the floor, but it was fiiiiiiine. I also got to meet Minnie, the Rung family canine, who was WAY cooler than I ever expected.

Friday brought a day at Darien Lake, an amusement park in upstate, but better than that, it brought Claire, who hadn't been seen by anyone for a full month, as she had spent a month in the woods, learning to measure trees, build fire, and watching American Loggers. Thank God I've finally overcome my fear of roller coasters and rides, (the first time I went to Disney World, I sat out the Haunted Mansion and Tower of Terror out of inane fear) as we spent hours on the roller coasters. There was a super cool new ride that is similar to riding a crotch-rocket; you lean forward, the seat comes up behind you and forces you into a leaning position. The weather complied most of the day, but huge thunderclouds sent us to the car late in the afternoon.

Claire, Courtney, Katy

Cool new ride.

Long live 211 Winding Ridge.

Love!

Later that night, we (Claire) built a bonfire in Court's fire pit, and we sat around, talked, and ate s'mores. I decided that the combination of her hotness, great personality, and incredible outdoorsy/survival skills make Claire the PERFECT future Survivor contestant! It's going to happen, keep an eye out for her. Eventually though, we headed off to one of Court's high school friends' house for a small get-together. As we were walking home, we ran into two deer on somebody's lawn, nibbling at the bushes. That never happened on Wisteria Lane.

Saturday brought Janielle's arrival to Buffalo. Seeing her was one of the biggest highlights of my trip, as we were spending so much time together at the end of the year that not being together all this time was weird. Pre-arrival, we laid in Court's basement, watching Practical Magic and watched mice scurry all around the cellar. I never saw that on Desperate Housewives, either. I was set on seeing Gengo, another friend from Buffalo, and knew that she would be working at the local pet store, so I insisted on being carted over there. A real classy and clean place, this wholesome location smelled of pee and pets, but seemed like an appropriate establishment for Gengo to work at. She brought out puppies for me to play with, and even dared to take boa constrictors and pythons out of their tanks and let them wrap their disgusting bodies all around her wrists. I was so grossed out that I had to run away.

Who knew that Buffalo, New York was home of the original buffalo wings? I experienced this for the first time after the pet store, and was very impressed.

So I did a terrible job packing. The weather forecast, as usual, predicted rain and clouds while I was there, and I expected to need to dress nicer, so I packed polos and jeans. I don't know who I was trying to kid; I was there to visit Courtney, the world's BIGGEST slob. I still haven't figured out if I really even packed enough underwear, and I don't really care to actually think about whether or not I did. I came home in Court's sweatpants.

There was so much talk about this weekend about our weddings. We stylized each of them: Court will have a wild, shitshow of an affair, Claire's will be beautiful and traditional, Janielle's will be the most formal and classy, and mine will just be entertaining, especially if it's in Maine. None of my school friends have seen the jeans and flannel wearing, high school kid crashing affairs that my hometown can throw, and I know they will be culture shocked. Mum, put on the chicken salad! It was such fun conversation, though, knowing that we all will still be friends that far (relatively speaking) down the road. Bachelorette party and wedding shower planning roles were assigned, wedding songs were discussed, our parents' engagements and courtships were laughed about, and registry locations were noted.

Along with this discussion came the talk about kids; the general consensus is that no one is a fan of squeezing an 8 pound watermelon out of anything. Reason #135 why I will not have babies: A woman breast feeding on the plane! I started thinking about it...how did anyone even ever figure out that there was milk in their to suckle on? Weird.

Saturday night brought a wild venture across the border to Clifton Hill. Katy did not have a passport, and federal law mandates that all border crossings now require one. With some unease, we approached the Canadian side, apprehensive and unsure if we would be admitted to the country. After some heavy questions ("How do you all know each other?" "Whose vehicle is this?" "How much do you weigh?" "Do you have a hotel room booked?" "When is my birthday?") by a very butch Canadian border agent, we made it into the step-homeland of Lindsey Mather. My breath was taken away by the sight of the American side of Niagara Falls and I definitely plan to go back someday to explore the area more, but my jaw dropped when we drove into downtown Clifton Hill. A 2-block long neon explosion reminiscent of Las Vegas or even New York City evolved before my very eyes, and I knew I was in for a good, good night.

We checked into the hotel, got ready to go out, and hit Boston Pizza. This BP is NOTHING like the one in Edmonston; there is a huge bar, tons of dining space, and a HUGE arcade! Before we left, I was sure to play "House of Doom," my favorite arcade game since I started cruising in the seventh grade. It involves monsters and guns, two of my favorite things.

While at Boston Pizza we ran into a bachelor party who tagged along with our group. I don't mean to sound cocky or snotty, but I love going out with my friends because they are so good looking. We attract a lot of attention, and to be honest, there really isn't anything wrong with that. As the night progressed, we headed over to Rumours, a club I had been warned would be FULL of creepers. At least 80% of the patrons were foreign males, but a hairy eyeball, watchful friends, and intimidating bouncers kept everything under control.

At least three more bachelor parties informed us of their gatherings, but such events were no longer exciting. By 2:30, "Closing Time" came on, signifying the end of the night, and we headed back to the Travelodge, ready to crash. A night in heels did not do my feet any good at all, so as soon as we stepped outside, I carried those bitches in my hands and crossed the street barefoot.

A full Michael Jackson appreciation society was out in force; Rumours played Thriller, Beat It, and Billie Jean, and we ran into a man dressed as MJ and painted in gold. I read today that he will be buried in a $25,000 casket made of solid bronze. Respect.

Not feeling like playing bed-wars with anyone else that night, (there were 5 of us, total) I crashed, blanket-less, on the floor between the two beds. I've actually read that that's not the worst thing in the world, and I'm not in any pain at all, so it was fine.

Who knew that Santa and his reindeer took practice runs during the summer? I saw Rudolph out in full force and was so impressed by his story!

Crossing the border back into the US was as intimidating as going into Canada, if not more intense. Clearly our good looks, wit, and charm won us admission back into the States. Hollerrrr!

My first impression of True Life: I Live in Suburbia was very positive. I was a little taken aback by housing developments, massive highways that aren't actually highways but seem like it, the presence of country clubs, luxury vehicles parked in nearly every driveway, and a whole lot of similarity and consistency and structure, but all in all, I think it's something I could handle when I grow up. I also know that I want to have showers that are not like fiberglass structures; I want ones that are more open and made of tile or marble and are more open.

And for a few, more inward reflections on this weekend:

• I have the best group of friends anyone could ever ask for. Each of us serves a different role in the friend group, which creates this incredible, unexplainable balance. One is a planner and carefree, another is independent, one is kind and loving, another wise and strong. I don't know that we each consciously recognize what is unique about each individual, but the spirt and core of our group is based upon individual principles. I don't know where I fit in, but I know it really is in there somewhere, and being a part of it all is what really matters to me.
• You can try to get people to change, but if they are not responsive, it's never going to happen.
• Distance doesn't necessarily make anything terrible; it encourages evolution, development, respect, and growth. It forces appreciation and forbids taking time together for granted. Saying goodbye is hard, but it also gives one something to look forward to.
• Epic can be used as a noun, to represent a long, poetic story or tale. It usually surrounds a hero, and his struggles and achievements. Maybe epic doesn't just describe my life, maybe my life literally is an epic, and with each event, each verb that occurs, the epic evolves. Maybe epic isn't a way of being, maybe it just is being. What I do know is that I am lucky to be a part of this epic and I am so lucky to have the allies and company that I do.

All I do really know, is that this weekend made history in my friend group. I'm so exhausted, but I'm so rejuvenated. My heart is full of happiness and love, my smile has a reason, and I am inspired.

I'm ready for a weekend with my family, though, and look forward to seeing them soon.

I know one of the best parts of my blog is my notes and dissertations of people I notice and pay attention to. Today, on the flight back from BLo, a woman sat near me who had a tattoo of the shape of the Harley Davidson logo, but instead of "HARLEY" and "DAVIDSON" it read: Double Trouble: Denise & Lisa. I can picture getting one of those for myself one day, maybe.

I was also fortunate enough to be seated in an exit row, which mean I had THE most incredible leg space ever. Ahhh.

I rode on a small plane today; probably about 20 rows, with 2 seats on one side and 1 on the other. Flying to Presque Isle has made me familiar with such planes, (and even smaller ones) but it's always really entertaining to watch the expressions of people who have never been on them before. They are so shocked about the size and worried about turbulence. They don't know turbulence.

I've flown into Boston dozens of times at this point in my life, but I never, ever fail to convince myself that we are going to land in the ocean. It's the scariest thing ever, and the pressure of being in the exit row intensified that today. I always have a plan in my head, but am sickly worried about what will happen to my stuff.

If you made it through this, I am so impressed. Halfway through, I considered wrapping it up and doing a second post tomorrow, but a lot of this is fresh in my mind.

Don't just settle for an epic life, make it an epic.