Paddington. London.
"I swear, this islands will sink one day!"
The Letterman-look-alike Englishman yelled at the frustration of the lack of information provided by the Heathrow "Express" train from LHR to Paddington station. "World class airport" he sneered.
I laughed. A perfect summary, I thought. Took a deep breathe. It had taken me almost an hour to get out of this incredibly sluggish airport. (Not to mention I had chosen this one over Stansted thinking it'll make my life easier.)
The train started moving. My sister and her fiancé had just arrived at the restaurant, and I had lost my chance to shower and put away my luggage.
"Which side is the North?" I asked a woman inside the station as soon as I got off the train.
"The North?"
"Um, Bishop's Bridge?"
"That way. Behind you."
I ran across the station with my two carry ons until I saw the water. Walked into the Italian restaurant chain - the couple sat all the way in the back.
Truth be told I had a lot of concerns when my sister told me a week ago she was thinking about getting married to a guy she's only been dating for 3 months and someone I've never met before -- I'd be a selfish bastard not to! Jung and I had a call with her while we were in Berlin. I did my best to give her my perspective, which apparently didn't mean much to her as they've since booked their way to Vegas for the wedding ceremony on the last week of June. So I thought the best I could do as a brother is to meet the man before the judge puts it all to rest, even just for a couple of hours. I wanted to talk to them and be honest about what I think, and I wouldn't let some congratulatory words get the best of me.
So I jumped on a flight from Hannover Germany to London. After a boring transfer at CDG, being stranded at the U.K border for almost an hour, and a painful train ride to the city with some cynical gentlemen, I've made it. Sat in a crowded Italian restaurant on a chilly Wednesday evening, across from the couple, my older sister and her fiancé.
And after an hour and a half of "How did you guys meet?", "Tell me about your parents." and "What do you plan to do in the future?" I've learned what I needed to know. Perhaps more than the words given, I was looking to get a sense of their relationship and interaction, and possibly the most important thing (for me): Do I like this guy?
I did like the guy, so that's good. But our dinner was after a long trip in Germany, followed by some intense travel, and oh a glass of rum and ginger that took the edge off me, and perhaps with it, some logic and sharpness, too.
It was five pass eleven and the restaurant had started closing. The mop was out and the place was empty. The three of us walked through the narrow cobble street to my two star hotel South of the train station.
I shook his hand, gave her a hug, made a joke to defuse the awkwardness roaming all evening.
I laid down in the janky hotel room where I've only got three hours to sleep before my flight to New York. Will the Heathrow Express to LHR also delay tomorrow morning? (The answer, as I now know, is YES.)
Some alarm system was beeping every seven seconds, a couple mumbled on the other side of the thin wooden wall, and the only shared bathroom in the hotel happened to be right on top of me and making all kinds of noises throughout the night.
I put on the sound of rain on my phone to help me sleep but it made it worse...Did I asked all the questions? Should I have talked more? (No one's ever said that.) Was I being boojie by picking up the bill after he took out his credit card? Should I not have mentioned that my father did not even show up at my wedding?
Suddenly I understood why my sister had a meltdown after my wedding. She cried and ran all the way to the airport security without saying goodbye.
I couldn't articulate what that feeling was while listening to audio of recorded rain and folks taking No.2 above my head, and even now I'm still processing the huge pile of emotion. (No pun intended.)
It's a feeling of isolation and uncertainty. Something you have no control over, and can only watch and let it dictate your life. The kind of feeling you have when you see your parents fight and abuse each other for the better part of your childhood. The feeling of no escape.
It made you strong but fragile, adventurous yet fearful. It made you wonder if anyone ever cares about you, and whether we were all brought to this world by mistake. (She introduced me to that thought when I was 12. A memory I fondly cherish.)
In a world where grownups care mostly about themselves, the children must stick together and help each other process the pain and make sense of the chaos.
And through it all we might find something deeper. A stronger bond. A sense of trust and a sincere hope that we may one day grow out of the havoc and become someone mature and beautiful.
A desire for her to live the life she intends to live and apologize to no one. To look at God and not be angry.
A faith that whatever she decides to do will be ok.
We are ok.
The Letterman-look-alike Englishman yelled at the frustration of the lack of information provided by the Heathrow "Express" train from LHR to Paddington station. "World class airport" he sneered.
I laughed. A perfect summary, I thought. Took a deep breathe. It had taken me almost an hour to get out of this incredibly sluggish airport. (Not to mention I had chosen this one over Stansted thinking it'll make my life easier.)
The train started moving. My sister and her fiancé had just arrived at the restaurant, and I had lost my chance to shower and put away my luggage.
"Which side is the North?" I asked a woman inside the station as soon as I got off the train.
"The North?"
"Um, Bishop's Bridge?"
"That way. Behind you."
I ran across the station with my two carry ons until I saw the water. Walked into the Italian restaurant chain - the couple sat all the way in the back.
Truth be told I had a lot of concerns when my sister told me a week ago she was thinking about getting married to a guy she's only been dating for 3 months and someone I've never met before -- I'd be a selfish bastard not to! Jung and I had a call with her while we were in Berlin. I did my best to give her my perspective, which apparently didn't mean much to her as they've since booked their way to Vegas for the wedding ceremony on the last week of June. So I thought the best I could do as a brother is to meet the man before the judge puts it all to rest, even just for a couple of hours. I wanted to talk to them and be honest about what I think, and I wouldn't let some congratulatory words get the best of me.
So I jumped on a flight from Hannover Germany to London. After a boring transfer at CDG, being stranded at the U.K border for almost an hour, and a painful train ride to the city with some cynical gentlemen, I've made it. Sat in a crowded Italian restaurant on a chilly Wednesday evening, across from the couple, my older sister and her fiancé.
And after an hour and a half of "How did you guys meet?", "Tell me about your parents." and "What do you plan to do in the future?" I've learned what I needed to know. Perhaps more than the words given, I was looking to get a sense of their relationship and interaction, and possibly the most important thing (for me): Do I like this guy?
I did like the guy, so that's good. But our dinner was after a long trip in Germany, followed by some intense travel, and oh a glass of rum and ginger that took the edge off me, and perhaps with it, some logic and sharpness, too.
It was five pass eleven and the restaurant had started closing. The mop was out and the place was empty. The three of us walked through the narrow cobble street to my two star hotel South of the train station.
I shook his hand, gave her a hug, made a joke to defuse the awkwardness roaming all evening.
I laid down in the janky hotel room where I've only got three hours to sleep before my flight to New York. Will the Heathrow Express to LHR also delay tomorrow morning? (The answer, as I now know, is YES.)
Some alarm system was beeping every seven seconds, a couple mumbled on the other side of the thin wooden wall, and the only shared bathroom in the hotel happened to be right on top of me and making all kinds of noises throughout the night.
I put on the sound of rain on my phone to help me sleep but it made it worse...Did I asked all the questions? Should I have talked more? (No one's ever said that.) Was I being boojie by picking up the bill after he took out his credit card? Should I not have mentioned that my father did not even show up at my wedding?
Suddenly I understood why my sister had a meltdown after my wedding. She cried and ran all the way to the airport security without saying goodbye.
I couldn't articulate what that feeling was while listening to audio of recorded rain and folks taking No.2 above my head, and even now I'm still processing the huge pile of emotion. (No pun intended.)
It's a feeling of isolation and uncertainty. Something you have no control over, and can only watch and let it dictate your life. The kind of feeling you have when you see your parents fight and abuse each other for the better part of your childhood. The feeling of no escape.
It made you strong but fragile, adventurous yet fearful. It made you wonder if anyone ever cares about you, and whether we were all brought to this world by mistake. (She introduced me to that thought when I was 12. A memory I fondly cherish.)
In a world where grownups care mostly about themselves, the children must stick together and help each other process the pain and make sense of the chaos.
And through it all we might find something deeper. A stronger bond. A sense of trust and a sincere hope that we may one day grow out of the havoc and become someone mature and beautiful.
A desire for her to live the life she intends to live and apologize to no one. To look at God and not be angry.
A faith that whatever she decides to do will be ok.
We are ok.
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