Shipping Off
My last day in the US was about as perfect as it could have gotten. Our staging ended about an hour early, and by some gorgeous twist of fate, a dear friend from home (who now lives in Philly) happened to have the day off from work. She took me to a delicious Mexican restaurant near her apartment, and we caught up for the first time in a year over margaritas with chips & guac. All of my anxieties and sadnesses of the past few days melted away as we shared new stories and retold old ones. Seeing her helped me stop prematurely missing everyone so much; it reminded me of how strong my bonds are, of how lucky I am to have such incredible friends and family in my life, that these people will still be here when I come back, and that I’ll still be able to communicate with them while abroad (and probably with the same amount of frequency if I’m being honest with myself).
After dinner I returned to the hotel, practically floating with joy, to find a group of fellow Togo Invitees in the lobby. We made our way first to a sports bar to pick up another group of invitees before heading to a local watering hole – a red-hued dive bar that we barely fit in. As we explained to fellow bargoers where we were going in the morning and toasted Togo over a boisterous tequila shot, I felt almost what I imagine a Navy platoon feels on its last night of freedom before shipping off to sea. Though I’d only just met these people, we were about to become family whether we liked it or not. And we’d best make the most of this last night.
It wasn’t long before someone suggested karaoke, and we quickly booked a room at a Korean karaoke bar. One of the guys in our group kicked off the night with an enthusiastic rendition of “Mean,” and before long we were being served a bottle of alcohol with fireworks shooting off of it. (For someone who thinks queen sized beds are the lap of luxury, this was like popping bottles in Vegas with the Queen of England… or so I’d imagine.) When more of our comrades joined us, we moved to a bigger room and began dancing on couches and tables alike. One couldn’t hear the microphones at all over the future PCVs screaming the lyrics to “Bye Bye Bye.” Surrounded by strangers soon to be friends and belting 90s pop in relative unison, I couldn’t imagine a better send off for the adventure about to begin.
