I’ve gone back and forth and forth and back over whether or not I should write about my no longer recent trip to Edinburgh, Scotland. Truth be told, I only took a few things with me in my very tiny carry-on bag, and my inner-journalist wasn’t one of them. This time, I stepped out of the Oxford heels and onto a coach bus to explore the beautiful Scottish highlands- all of which made for a gorgeous, relaxing experience, but not exactly a compelling blog entry.
So, in my desire to write, I decided to look a little bit deeper into my trip. I could think of nothing. Then, on a recent phone conversation with my friend Elexa, I found myself laughing so hard I could barely breathe while telling of something that actually happened in Edinburgh. I knew I found my story. I have virtually nothing to say about the mountains, as they were beyond words. However, what I do have words for, while it occurred in Edinburgh, doesn’t start there… it starts in Kindergarten.
I realize that the erupting laughter coming from Elexa and I a few days ago was not just the result of a recent event, but rather how that event symbolizes many others from my past. Obviously, the antics of my younger years aren’t common knowledge, so let me re-cap what’s important in order to fully understand the significance of my Edinburgh revelation:
Although I was technically born on November 16th, 1988, I think my life really began the day my Mom bought a Miami Sound Machine CD (for those of you who can’t remember, they sang the Bat Mitzvah classic “Conga”). To her surprise, the CD inside the case was Michael Bolton’s “Soul Provider,” and with that CD, my soul was provided.
This album set the stage for my years to come…and in turn, the rest of my life. I started with Michael and moved on to more mature artists (though Michael remains my favorite). By age 4…okay, 2… I was dancing around my summer house to Kenny G while my Dad barbequed for our guests, and I insisted that only Kenny G and Frank Sinatra be played on those nights as their tunes were the only proper “dinner music”. Somewhere in there, I also learned about hot baths, which I found quite relaxing, and by the time I was 3, my favorite appetizer was raw oysters and my drink of choice was Pellegrino. You may think it sounds like I was awfully spoiled, and you might be right. The truth is, all of my friends were above 40 and I didn’t want it any other way. I grew up with my parents and their friends and colleagues as an only child, and while I met plenty of kids in pre-pre-pre school along the way, I simply preferred the company of adults.
I got by with this attitude and way of life until I started “real” pre-school at Horace Mann. That’s when everything changed.
Most of us, whether we can remember it clearly or not, have walked into a Kindergarten classroom to some rendition of the words “Be Yourself” on a bright, colorful, and inviting poster somewhere on the walls of the room. I can remember many other versions of this slogan from the Kindergarten years… “What is right is not always popular, what is popular is not always right…” and so on.
So, here I am. I’m five years old. I enjoy Penne as opposed to Macaroni, I’ve taken many a hot bath with Kenny G playing in the background, I’m 100 percent convinced that if there is a God, I will be marrying Michael Bolton in the near future, and… I’m being asked to be myself in a room full of my 5-year-old peers.
I’m not 5. I’m practically 80. And, I’m totally screwed.
Or was I?
I had a choice to make when I was faced with all the “be yourself” chanting of my early years, and I think that choice has completely shaped my entire life. That choice is reflected in the way that my friend Claire still lets me pick Backstreet Boys as our “getting ready” music, and that I could laugh hysterically with Elexa over the fact that the 80 year old woman is still very much alive underneath the college girl…as was made apparent recently on a rainy Edinburgh night…
Flash forward to two weeks ago:
I went to Edinburgh with the goal of relaxing and being with nature for a while after having been from city to bigger city since I arrived in London. My 12-hour coach trip through the Highlands on the second day I was there proved to be one extra-large dose of what I needed, and by the time it was over, I wanted to nothing more than to take a shower and relax in my surprisingly clean hostel.
As I slipped into my pajamas and prepared to revel in a new book, my inner bitch, appalled that as a 20-year-old girl I was excited to relax with my book pre-midnight, decided to speak up.
All of the sudden, even though I was perfectly content, I started questioning whether or not it was “okay” to just do what I wanted regardless of the typical expectations for a girl my age. I’m almost embarrassed writing that down, but it’s true. Just as I decided to ignore that voice and do what I wanted, my roommate Siri asked if I wanted to head to the pub with some people she’d met downstairs.
I looked at my book, and I looked at the insanely early time on the clock. I caved.
As a hastily threw my hair into a ponytail, got dressed, and set out with Siri and our new friends, I wondered what part of me it was that decided to jump right out of my pajamas and back into the city that had made me desperate for sleep no less than five minutes prior. I was at odds with my inner old woman, and even though I’ve had friend after friend who has accepted that part of me, I just couldn’t at that moment. Call it an identity crisis or a moment of doubt, but either way, the old lady felt obligated to kick up her heels.
After strolling around the city, we ended up in a bar where a man who goes by “Awesome David” who was playing everything from the Goo Goo Dolls to Black Eyed Peas on his guitar. While I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the better half of me that had me there as opposed to in my bed, I have to say I was thoroughly enjoying myself.
I wish I could start the end of my story with something magical like “and then, I heard the beginning of the song that I simply couldn’t stop myself from singing…” but, it didn’t really go that way. Without my realizing it, Awesome David had gone right in to playing “Midnight Train to Georgia”. He had a way of playing his guitar that made every song sound like it was written in the past year, and so I forgot where I was, and what decade I was in, and sang along to every word.
It didn’t really dawn on me that I was pretty much the only one singing along as virtually everyone in the bar had sung along to every song all night. Then, as “Midnight Train to Georgia” saw its last few chords, I had a moment I won’t soon forget…
“Wow,” Awesome David said into the Microphone, “someone who can’t be older than 20 knows all the words to Midnight Train to Georgia…there is hope in the world.”
I looked to the left, and from the look of my new friends, I didn’t need to check the right to know he was talking to me.
I couldn’t believe it. But, in a way, I could. In that moment, I was reminded of what I’ve known since the Kindergarten years. I never imagined that somewhere in a bar in Scotland I would find a reminder to “Be myself”, but apparently, as tested time and again, it is always best to be yourself- no matter where you are. There is someone out there who will just love that person, even if you’re a 20-year-old who nearly stayed in on a Saturday night vacation, or who has every Michael Bolton album on her iPod. More importantly, in a moment of doubt, Awesome David reminded me that I’m actually a pretty big fan of my bath-taking, raw oyster eating, Kenny G listening self. And, in that realization, I decided it was time to head in for the night.
Just as I was starting out the door with Siri, who was also quite tired, Awesome David spoke up at the mic again.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“New York.” I responded. (Sorry, fam… I am “from” there.)
It took him all of two seconds to strum right into a song called “New York” by Ryan Adams. I didn’t know one word of the more recent tune.
Apparently, that’s totally fine.
My London Chronicles. 