keeping things in perspective

Folks, I am T-Minus one week and counting from a little jaunt to the Volunteer State. I realize that I may have neglected to mention this to you, that I'm heading home for a little bit, but you'll forgive me this drastic oversight in light of the recent health conditions which have caused me to experience symptoms of both Turrets ("What the #^@#*! is wrong with these people?") and mild dementia ("Is this really #^@#*! happening?").

I'd like to tell y'all that I'm going to miss New Jersey while I'm gone, but that would be a big fat lie, since I'll probably be flipping it the bird from my window seat the moment we're airborne at Newark International Airport. The only thing making Jersey City a desirable place to live right now is the fact that no one here has swine flu. Yet.

But I'm not just excited about going home because it means I won't be here for a little while -- hell, you should know by now that there are at least a million things about the south that I miss like crazy. Near the top of the list has to be that for a solid week, nobody will expect me to pronounce the final consonant on any word that comes out of my mouth. It will be considered perfectly normal to be "fixin to" do something, and all parties will be appropriately referred to as "y'all," even if said parties only contain one person.

But lest I get caught up in all this excitement and thus experience some sort of nervous breakdown when I realize I do, in fact, have to come back to New Jersey, I like to remind myself of some of the things about the south (Memphis in particular) that I do not miss when I am gone.

When I was leaving England for the final time last fall, I came in to New York and connected there for my flight to Memphis. When I boarded the plane at JFK I realized that I was sitting smack in the middle of a huge group of people who were obviously traveling together. After overhearing a little of their conversation I discerned that they were all family members -- brothers, sisters, in-laws, cousins, etc. -- from Memphis who took an annual family trip. This year, they'd gone to Paris and London. I heard them chattering a little bit about their travels, and one woman said she was ready to get home and sleep in her own bed. I smiled to myself sympathetically. But then, this little exchange took place:

Woman 1: Oh girl, you know why I'm ready to get home? I'm ready to have some real food.
Woman 2: Oh, me too. I want some home cookin'.
Woman 1: Oh, you know what I want? I want some Red Lobster!

Did I mention they'd been in London, and say what you will about British food, but that they'd also been in PARIS? One of the gastronomic capitals of the world? And this woman can't wait to get home so she can eat CHEDDAR BISCUITS FROM RED LOBSTER? The conversation continued to decline into shame and embarrassment as the second woman wanted to know if the first ever went to Rafferty's, and if so, which Rafferty's did she go to? And do you know what she wants more than anything in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD? She wants them to put one of them Rafferty's down on Union next to that Red Lobster. And did you ever have a Caesar Salad from TGI Fridays? Because nobody make a Caesar like that Caesar at TGI Fridays, you know.

At that moment, I wished I had a tape recorder. Not because I was afraid I wouldn't remember the conversation exactly -- things that disturbing tend to get burned indelibly into your mind -- but because I sometimes wonder when I tell these stories if anybody believes a word of this shit. Well, believe it. Those people are classic Memphis. And I hate to admit it, but when I board the plane to Tennessee next week, I'll probably even be happy to see them.

cheers,
elizabeth