life on a bus

I need sleep. These last few days have been some of the most exciting, yet most tiring I've had in a while.

First, I went to Toronto on Tuesday and Wednesday for Deedar. For my non-Ismaili readers - the Aga Khan, or spiritual leader of our sect, came and gave a speech and blessings. It is (very) loosely analagous to a papal mass. They estimated that about 60,000 people were there.

The experience was really terrific; it was fun to be part of something so large in both meaning and magnitude. My entire family went. My brother had the luxury of flying up from Atlanta. My parents and I traveled as part of a larger group that went from New York to Toronto via Buffalo, NY. We flew from JFK to Buffalo. Then took a bus from Buffalo to Toronto.

Things I learned from my trip:

1) Jet Blue rocks. I hated Jet Blue for a while since I have lost quite a bit of money on the stock. But now my hate is balanced by my love for their service. DirectTV and chocolate chip cookies made the flight so pleasant, I almost didn't want to get off the plane.

2) Long bus rides are painful. No matter how often I ride the infamous Chinatown bus, I still find bus rides over 2 hours to be very taxing. It's hard to sleep and the bus is especially bad for kids and teens who are easily agitated. The bus had many such kids, and trust me, they were agitated. As a result, so was I. Also, my dad claimed my iPod for the entire trip.

3) I'm getting old. First, many friends and family (along with the little woman who lives inside my head) kept reminding me that this would be a great place to meet a husband. I mean, there must be one within the 60,000, right? My dad continually reminds me that my mom was married when she was 26 (I thought she was 27, but he informed me that she was 26 and a HALF. Who says 26 and a half?). He never fails to add on my favorite kicker though: that his mother was married at 12 ... and that makes me way behind schedule.

Oh, and on the bus, I had the following conversation with a 15 year old whose camp counselor I was when she was 5. I shall call her tweenie.

Tweenie:
"Sophia, do you remember when you were my camp counselor"

Me:
"Yes, I do. That was a long time ago ... I was your age when I was a counselor!"

Tweenie:
"How old are you now?"

Me (mumbling):
"Uh, almost 26"

Tweenie:
"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Me (still mumbling):
"No ..."

Tweenie (with a very big smile):
"I do!"

3) 60,000 people is a lotta people. (Yes, I realize how silly that sounds, but for real. It's a lot). Even amongst so many people, though, we managed to find friends and family who we hadn't seen in quite some time.

On the whole, the trip was really phenomenal, but I hardly slept at all. I returned back to Boston to find my apartment in a sad state of disorder. As of now, I'm living with 3 guys, who have some trouble with the concept of a cleaning schedule. Why are boys so dirty? And yes, I understand that this may be one of those shrug-your-shoulders haha boys are so silly things, but still. I hate it. Follow the freaking schedule. I'm not your maid.

I'm very tired though; it's quite hot now and I have no AC. At least it's Friday!