A Day To Remember

Well how does it feel to be back in Taiwan? Oh sorry for those of you who didn't know I live in Taiwan. And for those others who knew that I live in Taiwan but are wondering "where did he go?" The answer would be the land of the free, where burgers save lives and the beer comes in suitcase form.......ah yes the old U. S. of A.

I hadn't been back to my old country in nearly a year and even that visit was a quick two week jaunt filled with more "weird happenings" than "life altering experiences." This trip felt a lot different. I had a lot of fun being back in my homeland where talking to people required simply speaking in my own tongue and the only awkward conversations were due to the content of my words rather than the difficulty in forming half-assed, simple minded sentences.

It was great to once again breath in that fresh mountain air and see the brown snow blanketed trees in there transition from one pretty season to yet another one. All in all I couldn't have asked for a better visit back.

The trip started as usual with a little jet lag here and a little more jet lag there and than a nice wholesome serving of what I imagine was my stomach's way of communicating, "you think you can just cram all these crazy foods into me at hours most irregular?" By that I mean I thought I might die from ring sting. I misconceived that returning to "civilization" meant a return to a normal diet and regular "bathroom break" rituals, but this was hardly the case.

One of the first nights I was back we decided to make a very nice French meal for dinner which, obviously, required horrendous amounts of delicious, stinky cheese. We all enjoyed ourselves wonderfully while dining and drinking fine French wines while keeping a light atmosphere with our whimsical stories of great times past. 'Twas truly a divine night that I believed would be the start of an ultimately divine two week vacation from my "hectic, non-stop, on the go" life in Asia. (haha)

This was certainly true until the next morning. I say morning but I hardly mean it because anyone who calls 4 am in the morning can kiss my Asian ass because it's clearly the worst time to ever be awake. Nonetheless it was 4 am when my stomach declared, "shit's going down!" It was miserable sitting upon a cold, hard "throne" in a half daze while struggling to keep at least one eye open. My mind had not yet made the 15 hour time change so my gut renching squirts were muttled by most unsettling halluncinagenic dreams. At times it was nice be able to mentally escape from such physical anguish but in reality, sitting on a frigged toilet in a jet-lagged stupor was not exactly an ideal way to spend an early morning.

I was able to calm myself down enough to drift off into whatever whacked out imaginings my reversed brain could create for what I thought was a couple more hours of much needed sleep. What actually happened was that a newly discovered lack toast and tolerance was about to go full speed into the "just kill me" realm. The amount of cheese I ate the night previous was as close as one could get to actually overdosing on a food and I suppose my strictly Asian (all soups, noodles, and rice) diet had turned my stomach into a gigantic whimp (or pussy if you really want to know) when fighting against all things dairy.

Of course, It was a delightful Sunday when my family arose to find me watching Hostel, curled in a blanketed cocoon on my sofa. Why I picked that movie to watch during the two miserable hours before everyone woke up at a descent hour was beyond me and the little "doo doo" breaks "sprinkled" throughout made it all the more tortuous. My family was extactic to see how I was already to go for the day. So with clammy hands and a pale face I embarked on a nice day throughout my quaint little town for a little Sunday family outing.

I complain sometimes. Sometimes I do it as a joke and sometimes I am even too mean spirited about it. Sometimes I complain to aid in others complaints and thus encourage them to complain more as well. This day I complained because every ten minutes I felt the urge to rip out the red hot demon boiling in my stomach with my bare hands. When you are sick everything seems terribly unimportant. Most day to day things feel like a chore as is but when you struggling to stay conscious in the bathroom in the ladies section of Macy's, the nullity of day to day life really begins to sting.

We went many places that day including a bakery, the movie store, and even the hillbilly reject, half-smoked cigarette totting, slack jaw yokel filled mall. I thought I could make it until we went to one of the last stops, which was the dog park. Now I actually wanted to go to the dog park to see our new little puppy in action and to maybe see what was cooking in the American girls sector. Perhaps I watched one to many episodes of Entourage, but the whole time home I was consumed by the idea that having a puppy around would quadruple my chances of meeting some beautiful girl who I could then explain, "I'm only taking care of her today while I'm home from Taiwan where I am trying to learn my fourth language while also teaching some of the most splendid and beautiful children to ever pass before my eyes." Usually we only met other goobers with similar intentions as myself who would strangely ask questions like, "What kind of personality does she have?" This then lead me to realize that the only way you could ask a question like that would be by checking between my dog's legs as SHE ran past. Gross.

So we went to the dog park in the hopes that we might be able to see our dog run and then maybe watch some other dogs run and maybe even see a small dog bark at a big dog, and then see one bad little dog that would remind us of how good our dog was and then see some dogs that were friendly and others that we thought were "yucky mean dogs." I guess that's why people go to dog parks. Either way all I could think about was that it was cold as hell and my ass was about to fall off of my body and leave me to die being humped and slobbered to death by copious amounts of crazy little mutts who, more often than not, could socialize better than their masters.

I finally convinced my family to end the charade of errand running and let me get home to the place where no candle could survive and just chill. We made it home where no one saw me until 20 quick minutes later when it was time to go see Grand Torino because I guess it was the last day and time that the movie would ever play.

We saw the movie and gosh darn it I really liked it. I don't know why but apparently the ultra racist, hater of humanity character played by mister Eastwood really soothed my throbbing bowels and put me at peace. Just as the man calmed himself and became a better person in the end, so too did my stomach and my attitude. We left the movie and I was in a much better condition all around and therefore able to start truely enjoyed all the quirkiness of my sister, mom and dad.

I wasn't sick for the rest of the trip and even though I thought I might actually die that day, I was comforted to be around those who cared most about if I was actually feeling sick or not. If it wasn't for my family's insistence on going out and taking the day by storm I would have stayed at home and missed out on all the little things that make my little family of four so charming. We talked and we laughed and they made fun of my terrible condition the whole day just like our strangly functional family always treats those who "can't take the heat." It was a terrible day when it was happening but it will be a great memory for a long time. It just shows that even when you're in the worst pain imaginable a good family can provide all the relief necessary.