The Majesty and the Misery

There have been some fabulous unforgettable moments that I have been lucky enough to enjoy over the last 6 weeks of pseudo-marital bliss. Moments that I found surprising, like the day we went to my lady’s friends house, and we, they and the kids played chickenfeet ‘til we couldn’t laugh or stay awake any longer, or the time we went flying kites and even my lady was surprised at how much fun it was keeping a 4 foot square piece of plastic in the air or the afternoon I stuffed myself silly eating a small mountain of frozen yoghurt with every topping imaginable cascading down its slopes with each spoonful.

There have been moments of such warmth the like of which I have never experienced before. Like introducing Roald Dahl to the skiddles, putting on silly voices as we read them “George’s Marvellous Medicine”, and “The Witches”, or watching the oldest skiddle have that moment of realisation when he finally saw, after 75 minutes of fighting with me, that if you carry that number down, long division really does work, or making my girl hold her chest with belly laughter, watching her tears stream down her beautiful cheeks as I tell her stories of what her evil cat did to me in the middle of the night. Or when I read the warm and touching comments from the lady whom I hope will soon be my mother-in-law.

There have been moments of total synchronicity too. Like when my girl and I told the 2J’s, at exactly the same time, that they could both wear dresses to the wedding if they really want to. Hearing the older boy moan his complaint for the next few minutes would have been great fun, but we were laughing so much at saying it at the same time that we couldn’t hear him. Or occasionally thinking and acting with perfect understanding, like suddenly singing to the same song on the radio, or ordering things without asking each other while out to dinner.

Every now and then, individually the skiddles would turn to us and say in a petulant and frustrated voice “I have the weirdest parents!”. Words which on its own would fill me with pride, being referred to as “parent”, but when said in reaction to us just being “in-love” made it all the more special.

Today was not a good day however, for so many reasons.

First and most obviously, the dream has ended. My six wonderful weeks are over and I had to say goodbye to the woman who has taken my heart. I know I will return and that I have to go home to organise myself and say a different set of goodbyes, but, stealing a line from a man much funnier than me, when you finally know who you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want that life to start right away.

I feel like I have been a balloon, and when I am near her I am blown up, stretching my heart to its fullest, but now she is not by my side. Now that I know I will not get to touch her hand or kiss her lips or smell her hair for so long, I feel like the balloon is empty, and the rubber has warped and gone wrinkly. I feel all wrong, out of shape and uncomfortable. I don’t feel like I will function right again until I am with her again. That’s all I am going to say about her. My feelings of loss are mine own, they are also unreasonable and in my more lucid moments I recognise that this has to happen. It doesn’t serve me to dwell on them, but it is useful to know that my mind was never where it should have been, and still isn’t.

This is probably why on my trip back from OKC to Heathrow I managed to get lost twice.

I can’t say very much about leaving Oklahoma, it was a little bit of a blur, I simply wasn’t thinking about it. I can tell you it was flat, but then most places look flat from above on high. I could tell you that the staff were polite, but I don’t remember a single word they said to me. I didn’t cry on that flight, I just went quiet, stoic and statuesque. It’s a form of shock I imagine.

I landed in Minnesota, the twin city, an hour or two later. I have never been to Minneapolis airport. Last time I came back via Cincinnati, I think, and the in flights were always through Atlanta, both of which seemed quite generic places, but Minnesota had some real character. If It were a real holiday I would have spent a few days there hiking through the woods looking for deer or bears to photograph.

Unlike the times previous however I got to leave the airport. Not out of choice, I should add. For some reason, as I left the flight from Oklahoma I felt I had to collect my luggage from the baggage claim place. After walking past security it dawned on me that they would probably just move my bags directly to the next plane, just like they have always done in the past. So I asked the very nice police lady with the very large hand gun who politely told me that I was right, I needed to check back in, but if I was trying to go back the way I came she would have to use the aforementioned device and floor me. After a swift retreat I found myself facing another security guard type person who told me I was allowed outside the airport for as long as my visa was good, if I didn’t mind missing the flight. With this newly garnished knowledge I ventured my first few steps into the metropolis of Minnesota, and with my second few steps I ventured back into the airport and to the safety of airport control.

A cup of coffee a dose of self-consternation later and I had resolved to pay more attention to what was going on around me and stop sonambulising myself through a coma.

Minnesota really was an interesting place to visit, and even though I was only there for a short amount of time, and only in its airport lounge, there was a sense of identity that you don’t see in other places. They were far more in touch with their spirit. Native Indian art and jewellery was everywhere, as were stuffed wolves and pictures of snow. Even cowboy hats and boots had their place, something you just don’t see in the much smaller OKC airport, but my real joy was taking off.

It’s not that big an airport having what appeared to be only one runway, but it was certainly nice to see the planes taxi in turn on the runways in such an orderly fashion, but the truth is that it was the clarity of the night lights that I enjoyed so much. The freeway lights causing regular areas of shadow and light reminded me of tiger snakes as far as the eye could see. Every block clearly defined and spaced out in such an organised grid pattern that would make mathematicians and town planners the world over turn pale with jealousy. The Vikings stadium and the baseball pitch next door so beautifully lit up. And The big river meandering through it all, with its brightly lit bridges creating focal points throughout the city.

I was stunned by its elegance, but as we flew higher and higher, the wispy clouds blurred most of the lights until they were like distant galaxies seen by the hubble telescope. This notion stayed in my head for the next 30 minutes as we drifted across the states passing small towns that looked in my wandering head like tiny constellations. A horse prancing, a bucket spilled, a field of mushrooms.

The hours dwindled, I flicked through some in flight movies, but even X-Men made me feel sad and Transformers got turned off within 5 minutes. I ended up watching Ghosts of Girlfriends Past and wondered when Matthew Mcconaughey will remove his misogynistic thumb out of his apparently sexy derriere and make a movie that doesnt involve him being an annoying playboy type to women who fawn over him all the time.

Eventually, we began to lose altitude and I looked out my window onto a bright and hot London. Its odd the things I never normally noticed before, that we dont appreciate. I looked down at a rich green patchwork of fields, not a straight line separating them. It was almost as if a five year old were told to draw them. And every field, road, house, garden and farm edged with the trees and bushes that so epitomise my country.

I watched as the landmarks of london came into view. The Thames Barrier, The Millenium Dome, The Ghurkin, The London Eye and Parliament. I watched Buck Palace pass underneath and for the first time perhaps I noticed just how many fields, greens, parks, play areas and commons it has. How you are never too far away from grass and always have a tree in view within a minute. I look in wonder at a very different sort of elegance. At a country that wasnt planned, but formed over centuries of struggle and debate, that was torn by class conflict, by unfair taxes, by crazy civil wars, by religious bickering and also by rain that cuts through our rolling hills and creates so many irrisistable natural boundaries.

And I realise that even on this, the saddest of all days when I say goodbye to the love of my life for a period of time too long to contemplate without invoking a panic attack, that my exhausted state allowed me to see things of elegance and beauty, things that describe the differences between our two countries so simply, things normally overlooked by me and many like me I am sure.

The world has a habit of throwing you curve-balls... and sometimes they are just the tonic you need to keep going a little longer.

Roads and Highways

One of the things I most wanted to confront you yanks about was your appauling waste of resources, and flagrant disregard to our ecology.

I looked forward to tackling your arguments on global warming being a form or refraction and having little to do with CO2 emissions, of Ethanol being possibly worse for the environment than Unleaded fuel, and of natural landscapes such as alaska being descimated by scarring oil fields ripping through the beautiful landscape.

What I found though was a little unexpected, terribly complicated and very unsettling.

The US really is a different place to britain, and just because we (loosely) share a language, doesnt mean we are brothers. We have, in fact, been born on different sides of the same street, and even though we stand together and fight together, at times are as different as montagues and capulets. Never is it more apparent than with the use of oil, or specifically unleaded fuel.

Firstly, I will get on my high horse. In britain we tax all car fuels heavily so as to discourage the use of cars. We also have a car tax to help pay for the expensive upkeep of the road network. We have catalytic converters to ensure a minimal amount of CO2 emissions, and we have an MOT text annually for every car to ensure all emissions are down to a minimum. The MOT test also ensures that the car is completely up to safety levels, such as tyre tread, break efficiency, and various tests on bodywork, frames, axles and engine efficiencies. You can fail an MOT (and have your car taken off the road) for excessive rust.

We do these things because we recognise the danger that cars present, and we wish to minimise the amount of accidents we have. We also spend thousands of pounds in advertising campaigns advertising road safety encouraging slower speeds, avoiding fast breaking, encouraging watching the road etc. We have a written drivers test, involving a multiple choice questionaire and  a virtual reality hazard test.

The practical part of the examination involves an eyesight test, and a vehicle safety test, so you know where to put the oil in etc... before continuing with the actual driving test. You will be asked to prove you can complete emergency breaks, three point turns, reversing round corners, reverse parallel parking as well as showing you are a considerate and confident driver.

Its expensive, its  hard, and we often fail. Its meant to be like that so we realise the full responsibility of having what is effectively a weapon under our control.

You will lose your licence if you have no insurance, if you drive under the influence, if you speed consistantly, if you have no road tax disk, if you drive recklessly, if you are overloaded, if your vehicle is faulty in any way, and if the police stop you they are entitled to check every detail of the outside of your car, and book you for anything from faulty lights to low tyre pressure.

We have stringent laws because firstly it makes our cars easier to control and safer to drive, and secondly it makes them more efficient and less harmful to the environment.

Before I get all holier than thou, though I came to understand that in the US things are painfully different not because you dont believe in the tennets of safety and efficiency, but that you simply dont know how to go about starting.

For a start your cities are so spaced out that you need a car to get from one part to another, and boy what roads you built for the job. Giant eight to ten lane freeways taking you from the suburbs to the city centres. Built for purpose is the phrase used, and unlike the tight windey roads you find in the UK whos single lanes meander around villages and farms and rivers and woods, your roads dominate the countryside ripping through the dusty plains like nasca lines, creating a network of magnificent runways ready for the american mechanical caterpillar to take people to work and back again.

To imagine a world where cars are not the dominant species is to imagine a world of futility. The feckless tracks would be like a skeleton of some ancient dinosaur sprawled across the descolate terrain. You would be like the african tribespeople who carry baskets upon their heads just to collect your groceries from the local corner shop, or to get a chicken strip from your drive through Chick-fil-a.

Its not that Americans dont care about the environment, its just that to imagine a world with no cars is to reinvent the wheel.

As for the safety aspects us brits are used to. The US is based on a belief that everyone is responsible for their own actions. To tell an american that protection of its people is the job of the authorities is the same as to tell a lion the mobster thrown into his cage is not a suprise midnight snack. I can just see him raising an eyelid and with a stretch of his mighty claws purring the words...

"Suuuuure!"

Instead, the whole system is set up ready for litigation. You bump into me, well im gonna sue you, and if it turns out you had no tread on your tyres, well youre going to end up paying more.... Its a simple system, and it should work if it wasnt for the fact that most people cant afford to change their tyres when they need changing, or maintain their oil filters, or check their breaks or do the thousand other things needing to be done.

What starts off as being a world of choice ends up being choice for those that can pay, and risk for those that cant.

In the end it is no surprise that when petrol prices rise by 10c, the whole country goes into panic freefall. In a country that finds itself so stretched for money, be it because of doctors fees and medical bills, or munitians spending and securities taxes, every cent is hard earned and carefully spent, and change is often an unnecessary risk too far.

To see a way out of the sandstorm of problems climate change is causing the people of the US takes a minor miracle, and trying to convince them that reducing fuel emissions by using more efficient cars is like trying to convince a dog not to sniff butt. In the end, even if they do believe you, they cant do anything about it.

I learnt alot on my trip. I saw alot I didnt expect to see and heard alot I hadnt imagined people would say. Mostly though, I learnt that we are all reasonable people going through a different set of circumstances, and my hollier than thou, look down on you attitude wont help a single soul. We need solutions to tough problems, we need to listen to each other alot more, to understand each others situations and consider each others dilemas. We need patience and empathy. And we need to talk more, we need to be aware that we can be wrong, that others can do it better, and that we can learn from each other without saying, well thats okay for you, but its totally different here.

Mostly though, we need to stand up and have the grace and humility to say "I was wrong"

I was wrong.

I was wrong, but I'm learning.

People Are Different

One of the best things about browsing is you chat to people and they remind you that every country is different. Different customs and different attitudes.

Recently, whilst scouting for someone in Ireland, I was reminded of my one trip. Ireland is lovely and deserves as much time as you can spend there, and the people were terrific fun.

About half way through my trip there, I decided to go walkabout, well busabout at least. So off to Cork Bus station I went without a clue where I was going to end up. I met an american who looked a little dazed. I dont know why it is that I can be in my hometown and never talk to a stranger for weeks, but as soon as you go somewhere suddenly you are the friendliest person on the panic.

And so it was with me and Chuck. (I cant remember if his name was Chuck, it could have been Brad, or Buck maybe... It doesn't matter anyway, he was stressed!) He went to Uni at Berkley which I think is in California (JACK! His name was Jack... no it wasn't) with a guy from Larne in Northern Iereland.

Now this irish guy, who we will call Jerry, told Chuck that if he ever fancied visiting, to just turn up. Well Chuck had obviously been a good boy because his parents were paying for a 3 month backpack across Europe and now he had done Dublin and Cork, he intended to catch a bus up north and try to spend a few days touring round Belfast which is quite nearby.

Thats when I caught up with him. He told me his story and the phone call he had just made.

"Jerry told me I absolutely must come up straight away. It was perfect timing actually, because Jerry's off on holiday tomorrow and they have no-one to look after the dogs!"

My lasting impression about the irish on that trip was the astounding trust that they have in their follow man. Here was an irishman offering his house and all its contents to someone he went to college with 2 years earlier.

In comparisson, a couple years ago my flat was broken into. It was a cellar and ground floor maisonette, and we had the bedroom and lounge downstairs in the cellar, with the kitchen and dining room upstairs. I was downstairs watching a movie in the lounge, when someone broke in through the kitchen window, started to come down the stairs, heard me, went back upstairs and stole my penny jar, and my dads ship in a bottle!

Whats worse is the guy got caught and before sentencing he admitted to 58 other break-ins. I'm pleased that my greasy, horrible flat was filthy enough to leave fingerprints. I'm pleased that all he got from me was £1.37 and a vodka bottle with no vodka.

But I would much rather live in Ireland.