1) Neurotically checking my backpack and carry-on bag to make sure that my passport, money, wallet, life for several months, etc. is still all there. From what I've heard, important items like that which you need before uprooting your life to the other side of the world have a tendency to shift themselves around and out of sight, even when not being manually moved.
2) Fighting off nausea and pacing back and forth in the apartment like a fiend. I don't have butterflies in my stomach, I have pterodactyls.
3) Second guessing my decision, until of course I convince myself how hella awesome I am.
4) Reassuring myself that I am not going to die, I will find my way to the subway, that just because I have a chartreuse-colored bandana on does not mean that I will be shot in a gang-related incident in the city, my father WILL eat more than just McDonald's when I'm not there to harp on him (salads and Lipitor, old man.), my passport picture is not that bad, my plane is not going to fall out of the sky, and that IT'S GONNA BE FREAKING AMAZING!
5) Arrested Development marathon. YES. No matter how nervous I am about this trip, I just have to keep reminding myself that there's always money in the banana stand!
6) Listening to Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car" and the Dixie Chicks "Wide Open Spaces" on repeat. Whatever, don't judge me.
Oh, and I've also managed to fit my entire life for the next several months into my backpack. Before:
And after! It's roughly the weight of a middle school football player. But like, one of the husky ones, not the water boy.
Now we can only hope that I'm not seated next to a screaming child for the next 24 hours of airplanes and airports...
WISH ME LUCK! :-)
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