In-Flight Entertainment

Jason and I are getting married next year. Part of me does not know what to make of this juncture in our lives. We love each other dearly, I am are certain of that. Yet our relationship has not always been the smoothest, you know? But then again, what LTR really is? Come on, now. This shit takes work!

Much like anyone about to take the marital plunge, I get intimidated by the thought of “ever after.” Let’s do some calculations here… We’ll have six years under the metaphorical belt in September 2014, seven as of five days before our wedding date. By the time we get hitched, we’ll be on the upper end of a decade. We’re both reasonably healthy, well-adjusted adults, most of the moving parts and major organs are in good working order. This probably gives us roughly another five decades together, Universe-willing. If those fifty pass anywhere as quickly as the first six…

II Pause :) I just have to ask: why are German flight attendants sooo darn efficient?! Seriously, this could quite possibly be THE best in-flight service I’ve ever had… in my life! Got me a package of Soletti Cloud Hoppers, an in-flight snack, kinda like Chex Mix. That’s right, and in-flight snack. The flight attendant just handed me a warmed moist towelette with a pair of pincers so I would “wash my hands” before dinner service.  Dinner Service?! “Red or White, sorry no dry white wines on the flight tonight, only sweet.” Post-meal cognac… where the hell am I?!

People are watching reruns of Two and a Half Men (post-Charlie Sheen) and Waterworld on the seat back touchscreen monitors. I’m starting to feel calmer about things. I wonder if Kevin Costner is ‘big in Germany’ the way the Hoff is? II

It's gotta be the hair

Back to some serious, in-flight reflectin’ bout’ donning the ol’ ball and chain (I’m joking, bebe). We look to our parents’ marriages for guidance in our own, much like we adopt (or reject) their parenting techniques further down the road. Well, except in our relationship J and I have done everything backwards, so we’ve been practicing and rejecting various co-parenting techniques long before becoming man and wife. Or woman and husband.

Mike and JoAnne, J’s parents, have just celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary--Congratulations, Mazel Tov, and Многая Літа to them! My parents, on the other hand, chose to divorce for reasons that I have only been able to speculate about. My brothers and I were still very young when it was finalized. Dad, and his parents Бабця і Дідо, did quite a bit of co-parenting to raise us right.

Lookin' good y'all! (Favorite pic ever :)

They shaped me and my brothers, they made a great effort to teach us Ukie things: how to make Дідо’s favorite борщ, how to make писанки, how to celebrate and mourn, the importance of language, family. And weird traditions, too, like flinging a spoonful of кутя onto the ceiling on Свят Вечір to predict the family’s good fortune in the coming year based on how much of it sticks. Hey, it made sense at the time. Anyway, my dad and his old-country parents really did shape me--I can’t speak for my siblings. And as I grow older, I am coming to understand that my mom has shaped me by her absence.

Despite my unconventional appearance (read: I’m yatted, yo), I have a fairly traditional conception of the marriage bond. I only intend to get married once (who really wants to plan another wedding in their lifetime?!), and I do not intend to get divorced. Combine that mentality with the fact that I am as loyal as I am stubborn, and you have the makings of a looooooong couple of decades together, right Jason Ristics?

This is probably why, after I accepted J’s proposal on New Year’s Eve Eve on the banks of the muddy Mississippi in NOLA last year, I asked him: “Are you sure you want to do this?” It was a counter-proposal of sorts. No refunds :) He said yes, by the way.

I've got the ways and means to New Orleans...

Chronologically, I’ll be 33 when we wed. Biologically, that window for bearing children is kinda starting to shimmy a little. It’s not closing perse, but it’s gonna be time to get a loaf in the oven soon, right? Too many awkward analogies for pregnancy here, my apologies. But you know what I mean… After that, it’s all about family. The odds of me trekking across Europe with a backpack, a sketchbook, and a digital camera are stacking up against me with each full moon that wanes into blackness.

I regret not studying abroad in college. I was consumed with trying to prove that I could provide for myself, trying to prove my independence. From what? Patriarchy, consumer capitalism, the two-party system, higher education… you name it. I had a chip on my shoulder the size and heft of a gravitational singularity. In taking on this idealistic (naive?) anti-establishment belief system, ironically I ended up working all the time just to make ends meet. At shitty jobs, i might add--the kind where you have to wear a name tag, wear clothing that smells like “trash juice,” or stand for double digit hours behind bullet proof glass. After awhile, I wistfully digested the meaning of cliche phrases like, “..It’s not what you know…”

In the wise hindsight of my early 30s, I should have used that time to indulge my wanderlust. I just never felt that international travel was in the cards for me financially then. I dined on Ramen Noodles of various flavor packets for much longer than I care to admit (for the record, Nissin Top Ramen Chili Flavor is by far the best).

Things are different now. After over a decade of toiling in the service sector, straddling the poverty line at times, I’ve embarked on a career as an educator. I’ve finally found my vocation. I love working with my students and my colleagues. I love experiencing financial stability after so much of hand-to-mouth uncertainty. Oh, and having summers off ain’t bad either…

What it comes down to is the alignment of the Universe has presented me with the challenge of this journey. An immersion in the geo-political reality unfolding in the land of my heritage, but only after confronting those pesky fears: lonliness, homesickness, violence, traveling independently as a woman, getting ripped off, being taken advantage of, getting lost, sleeping alone.

In dramatic-Nin fashion, this trip forces me to leave my comfort zone, adapt, and gods-willing experience some good ol’ fashioned growth and transformation. It’s preparing me for the next phase of life: marriage, womanhood, motherhood.

That being said, I am still certifiably scared shitless. And even as I write this on the first of many flights over the next three days, I can’t wait to step into Jason’s sweet embrace and catch the scent of his underarms. And hold hands in the car as we drive back to our home.