No More Sleeps!

When I was a kid, I would count down to exciting events like vacations by asking my parents how many "sleeps" until we left. One particular year, I think I was about 5, I was especially excited to go to Virginia Beach because we were going to go on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. My family told me about how it goes under water, and I couldn't wait to see this incredible wonder. The whole way I asked how much longer until we get there, and my family patronized the cute little wide-eyed girl in the back of the van. But just as we were about to approach the tunnel, my excitement turned to fear. I realized that we were going under water, and I didn't know if I could hold my breath for that long, and I didn't want to see any sharks from out of the car window. I started crying and freaking out, and didn't stop until we reached the tunnel and I saw the saftety of the thick walls between me and the ocean.

For the past few weeks, I've been telling people that I'm going backpacking through Europe for six weeks all alone, and I'd get comments ranging from "Wow, good for you! You're going to have such a great time!" to "I'm so jealous! What an adventure, you're so brave!" But no one ever said, "You must be scared to death!" although that was the closest thing to the truth. This is something that I've talked about doing since I was 16. Yes, I'm excited. Yes, I know I'll have a good time, but I'm also stomach-churning, cold-sweat-inducing scared shitless. What if I get lost? What if I can't find someone who speaks English when I need them? What if I find someone cool to hang out with and then find out they're creepy when it's too late? What if I get too lonely and homesick to have a good time? What if I run out of money? What if I don't like the food? And on and on and on.

But this morning, I broke through the fear. I was driving very early, getting some last minute errands done. I didn't have any of my normal cd's in the car because I had just uploaded my entire collection to my ipod, so I had to put in the only thing left - my Christmas mix from last year. Something about driving at 6:30 on a June morning with Mariah Carey belting out "All I Want for Christmas is You" cut me loose. I started laughing at the absurdity of it. My laughter turned to tears, and mixed with more laughter. I cried and laughed all the way home. I'm really doing it, I thought. I'm about to get on a plane and fly across the Atlantic Ocean to several countries where I've never been. I don't know anyone, I don't speak any of the languages, and I don't even know where I'm going to stay yet for most of the trip. But I'm doing it, and it's a wonderful, beautiful, exciting thing.

So here I am. There are no more sleeps. I'll soon be on the other side of the tunnel, and there will be no more need for tears. Here's to my great adventure!