Notes from a Spinning Planet—Ireland

I
t’s pretty humiliating to admit, but I’ve never flown in a plane before today. Consequently, I haven’t been out of the country either. Wait a minute, there was that one memorable car trip to Vancouver, BC, when I was eight and plagued with this unfortunate case of motion sickness that left our car smelling like sour milk for several months afterward. Other than that, the sad truth is that I’ve been
stuck on the farm
. Seriously, my parents actually run a small farm in Washington State. And some of my closest friends have been known to call me “the country bumpkin,” which I totally detest. Although I suppose it fits.

Three of these same close friends begged me to join them for a European trip after high-school graduation a year ago, but my parents couldn’t exactly afford such an “extravagance.” Plus I had already promised Dad I’d help him get the hay in, since my older brother, Jake, had just gone into the air force. As a result I was forced to pass on what seemed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. My best friend, Katie, rubbed it in nicely by sending me a postcard from Paris—my absolute dream destination. Showing not even an ounce of compassion, she wrote, “Poor Madison, our country bumpkin, stuck on the farm again…” In Katie’s defense (and trust me, she needed it), she was pretty bummed that I wasn’t able to go
with them, since it kind of made her the odd girl out. Even so, she wasn’t nearly as bummed as I was, literally picking hayseeds from my hair as I studied the swanky photo of the Eiffel Tower against a Parisian blue sky. It all seemed totally unfair.

So wouldn’t you think I’d be feeling pretty jazzed right now? I mean, just one year later I’m actually flying high over the Atlantic Ocean! And yet, here I am clinging to these wimpy armrests in white-knuckled terror. Why on earth did I ever agree to climb aboard this never-ending roller coaster?

“It’s just a little turbulence,” my aunt assures me for like the umpteenth time. I think I can hear a little impatience in her voice.

“Yeah, right.” I nod and slowly release my death grip, trying to act like everything’s cool. “So, will it be like this
all
the way across the ocean?”

“You just never know, Maddie.” Her blue eyes glint with a teasing look. “It might get even worse.”

“Really?” My fingernails start to dig into the armrests again.

Now she just laughs. “I doubt it. Just jerking your chain, sweetie.
Relax
.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Remember the deep breathing?”

I frown at her and then for her benefit exhale loudly.

“Just try not to think about it so much.”

“Like him?” I nod to where Ryan is blissfully snoozing across the aisle from us like he hasn’t a care in the world.

She laughs. “Yeah, I think that kid could sleep through a hurricane.”

“We’re not going to fly through one, are we?”

She shakes her head, then turns back to the
People
magazine I picked up at the airport, the same rag mag my journalist aunt made fun of earlier and can’t put down now. Okay, it’s not exactly intellectual, but I like to keep up on current events, plus there was a good article on Orlando Bloom. But I already studied it from cover to cover and am now wishing I hadn’t packed my new novel in my checked bag. To help distract myself from my newly discovered flying phobia, I take advantage of Ryan’s unconscious state to candidly check this guy out. I’m still trying not to feel too aggravated over his intrusion into
my
travel plans. This trip to Ireland was originally just going to be my aunt and me.

Anyway, I check him out and decide he’s not too bad looking, although his sandy brown hair could use a cut or maybe just a comb. And I’m sure he’d be a lot more attractive if he closed his gaping mouth. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a drop of saliva trickling down the left side of his chin, which makes me notice he could also use a shave.

Okay, it’s not like I’ve never seen Ryan McIntire before. But it’s been quite a while. We first met when we were about eleven or twelve, one summer when I got to spend an entire week at my aunt Sid’s house in Seattle. That was back when Ryan didn’t have whiskers on his chin and I still thought boys had cooties. For some reason my aunt thought it was a splendid idea to take us to the zoo together, but as I recall, I spent most of the day trying to avoid this weird kid who acted more like a resident of the zoo than merely a visitor. I suppose he’s grown up a lot since then.

Ryan is my aunt’s godson. His mom, Danielle, was Sid’s best friend since kindergarten, but Danielle died last winter after a long bout with breast cancer. I’m suspecting that’s the main reason Sid invited Ryan to join us on this trip at what seemed like the last minute. Fortunately for him, he already had a passport. Mine hadn’t arrived yet, and I’d started to worry that I was about to be left behind once again.

“You don’t mind, do you?” my aunt said just a few days ago, right after she’d cheerfully informed me that we were going to be a threesome.

“No, of course not,” I said quickly, hiding my disappointment. Oh sure, I did feel sorry for Ryan. Who wouldn’t? I can’t imagine what it would feel like to lose my mother. But having him join us seemed to change everything.

“You see, Ryan’s dad was from Ireland,” she explained. “And Ryan and I were just talking about his heritage, and it suddenly occurred to me that I should invite him to come with us. He can look into his Irish roots while we’re there. You two always got along fairly well, Madison. And he’s grown up into a really nice young man. You guys might actually have some things in common now. Besides that, he can help carry our luggage.”

She was starting to sound almost apologetic, so I decided I’d better get on board with this new twist in the plot—especially considering she was footing the bill for all my travel expenses. “Sounds great,” I told her. “I can’t wait to see him again.” Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. But I’m sure it made her happy. And I did put
on a good show this morning when I met the two of them at the airport.

Mom, who had driven me to Sea-Tac, was busy catching up with Sid and carefully going over our itinerary for like the hundredth time. Seriously, what does she think is going to happen to me once I’m out of her sight? Hijacking? Kidnapping? Forced slavery? And even if something should go wrong, how’s it going to help matters if she knows where we are when it does?
Get real Mom
.

“Wanna grab a coffee?” Ryan asked me just as my mom started to grill me about whether I’d forgotten anything important. I almost expected her to ask if I was wearing clean underwear just in case the plane crashed. Anyway, I was grateful to Ryan for providing me with this much-needed escape. Seriously, it’s like my mom thinks I’m about eight years old sometimes. I’m surprised she didn’t pin my name to my jacket.

We left our bags for the two women to “attend” since we’d already been informed numerous times by the PA system that “any luggage or personal items left unattended should be reported and confiscated…” And what then? Would the airport personnel take them out back and blow them up? Anyway, happy for this reprieve, I followed Ryan, who seemed to know where he was going, and we ended up at a Starbucks. Who knew they had Starbucks in airports? Well, everyone besides me, I suppose.

“This’ll go fast,” he assured me when he noticed how I was frowning at the long line ahead of us. “And it’ll be worth it since it’s way better than the stuff they serve on the plane.”

“So you’ve flown before?” Okay, as soon as the words were out, I knew how totally lame I sounded. Like maybe I should get the words
country bumpkin
stamped across my forehead.
Smooth, Madison
.

“Yeah, sure.” Fortunately he didn’t inquire about my own embarrassing traveler’s status.

“So, are you in college now?” I asked, trying to switch the subject so I wouldn’t seem too pathetic.

“Yeah, I’ll be a junior this fall.”

I nodded. “Oh, that’s right. You’re a year older than me, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be twenty-one in November.”

“Cool.”

“How about you? Sid said you’re in community college. How’s that going?”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. But I’ll probably transfer to a bigger school sometime next year.”

“That’s cool.”

“What’s your major?”

“I'm not really sure yet.” Then he got this blank kind of look, like he had left the planet or was thinking about something else, something a whole lot more interesting than me. So I sort of looked away like I was totally absorbed by the specials list up by the cashier: “Hazelnut Mocha, Caramel and Cream, Cinnamon Hottie Latte.” Who comes up with these things?

“Sorry.”

“Huh?” I looked back at Ryan.

“I guess I was spacing out on you. Kind of like a flashback, you know? Or maybe it was déjà vu. I’m not really sure what the difference is.”

“Well, a flashback is when you remember something that
really
happened before,” I told him, “and déjà vu is when you see something that
feels
like it happened before but never really did, unless it was in your imagination or a dream or something.”

“Wow, are you some kind of word expert?”

“Not really. But I am into writing. I guess I sort of take after my aunt in that area. I think I’ll probably major in journalism, like she did.”

“It was cool of her to invite us to come on this trip with her,” he said as we moved forward in the line, like about three and a half inches. “I mean, since she’s really on assignment. But I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland.”