Now boarding.

I love to travel.
And I love everything that has to do with travel.
...Even packing. (Trust me, packing is like an art form to me.)
Because traveling usually means vacations.
And vacations mean relaxation.
My most FAVORITE part of traveling though, are the airports.
Really.
And I really don't mind flying alone.
Something about going to the ticket counter. Taking care of business. It's empowering.
The best part of airports though...
People watching.
Airports are the BEST place to people watch.
Last week I went to Salt Lake City.
So I sat in the terminal at Sky Harbor and well, watched people. (And watched a little basketball too...conference championships...)
Anyway.
There were other kids traveling alone. I assume going back to school after spending spring break in Arizona. Or maybe going to spend spring break in Utah like I was.
There were old couples. An especially quirky old couple in quirky clothes. The husband brought back Wendy's...the wife spilled the giant cup of soda. Quirky.
There were families. With copious amounts of children. Why you would fly with multiple babies is beyond me...
There were businessmen carrying briefcases.
There were rich looking ladies with their Louie Vuitton luggage.
Then there were my favorite, the classy adult couples. One in particular, intrigued me. I sat next to the wife, who I noticed had a nice pedicure and a fresh set of Frenched nails. She wasn't the most fit woman, but she certainly aged gracefully. Makeup done, matching jewelery, shoes from Dillards. (I could tell because when changing from flip flops to her nice shoes, I saw the price tag on the sole) Her husband was looking particularly dapper. Blazer, slacks, loafers. Checking his e-mail on his i-phone. A very professional fellow. They were a very classy couple.
I wondered about them.
What was their life like? What did they do for a living? Did they have kids? Why were they going to Salt Lake City?
And then a lady came on the intercom.
"Now boarding first class passengers."
And there the couple went.
They flew first class, who woulda thought?
And that's when I realized.
I want that!
I want my future husband and I to be classy, professional people. People who can afford to travel. People who can fly first class.
Because I love to travel.
And that's when I made it a goal.
I have a list of places to visit. (Brazil, Panama, Italy, New Zealand/Australia, Alaska, Jamaica, Hawaii, India, South Africa, Chicago, New York City)
And someday, I will find a way to travel to all of those places.
My future husband and I...him in a blazer, me in my heels.
Flying first class.
Until then, I'll settle for traveling in the back row.
...with the families with copious amounts of crying children.

Here's to You: #2

"Was that your bf on the phone?"
"No. That was my uncle."
"Oh. Do you have a bf?"
"Uhh, Nope. Why do you ask?"
"Oh. Just wondering."

That's the first conversation we had. I'm not even kidding. He said "BF."

"Why is your hair two different colors?"
"Well, I dyed it. And now the dye is growing out."
"When are you going to cut your hair?"
"Uhh...I don't know."

That was another conversation we had. He seriously asked me why my hair was two different colors.

Now, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad that he even talked to me. Or acknowledged my existence. I mean, I was the new kid to band, I knew barely anyone in marching band, and I had to sit next to him in concert band...every day.
Now, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think he was kind of awkward. Okay, maybe I was a little bit too...I was the new kid, I was feeling out my surroundings, and I didn't want to say anything stupid or whatever.
Now, I'd be lying if I said that he was like anyone I've ever met, or that based off those first several encounters, we'd be as close as we are today.

He drives me crazy.
I mean that in the best way possible.
He is so competitive. So. Competitive. Especially with me.
2009 National Championship: Florida vs. Oklahoma. We talked trash. We made a bet. Needless to say, I got dinner and a movie.
We played soccer. It resulted in a bloody leg. I have a scar to prove it.
He talks so much trash.
He argues so much.
It's not a bad thing, really. I argue as much as he does. And for some reason, we get some sick satisfaction from instigating each other.
No really, he knows EXACTLY what to say to provoke me. (and vise versa)
Usually it has to do with sports.
He know's SO MUCH about sports.
It's cool though. I know if I say, "OMG DUKE WAS UPSET," he'll know exactly what I'm talking about.
But he never let's me win. Or admits he's wrong. And forget him telling me I'm right.
Drives. Me. Crazy.
It's okay though...I'm the same way with him.
I'd like to say I know him extremely well. I mean. I do know him extremely well.
But he's like a rubik's cube. I think I've got him figured out, and then I'm totally confused again. And it drives me crazy.
He knows me very well though.
He knows what I'm going to throw in an hour long game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, Slap. Which resulted in my left hand being swollen to the point that I couldn't play the piano. (Again. Competitiveness...)
And he knows when I'm upset about something, even when I don't want to admit it.
And he knows, or at least tries, to make me feel better all the time.
Because he's the most hilarious kid I know.
Even if he talks about poop all the time. Okay, not all of the time.
Although, we did sit in Sam's Club one day talking about farts.
But he does always make me smile. And he cracks me up.
He's the right amount of sarcastic. And refreshingly witty.
It isn't always rainbows and butterflies though.
Sometimes we get mad at each other.
Drives me crazy.
But we get over it. And everything is back to normal.
And even when our friends were in World War III with each other, we somehow weren't.
Sometimes he's a douchebag though.
Drives me crazy.
Actually. He's usually the right amount of douchebag...at least in my opinion.
Anyway, I think we might have set the record of the longest conversations ever on facebook chat.
One night, we were talking till 5 am. We had jazz band that morning. Yeah, neither of us went.
Sitting in his car, talking on the phone, texting, facebook chat, skype...talking to him just never gets old.
We originated the Question Game and we even created rules.
Really, I could write a novel about us.
I could talk about when he jumped in the pool in Florida with his phone in his pocket. Or how we spent 3rd quarters together in the stands every football game. Or his church ball games. Or how we texted each other rap verses. Or when we would walk to the spot after 1st hour. Or when we didn't pay attention at all during graduation because we were too busy taking pictures and talking.
I could talk about the time we floated down the Salt River and he tried pushing me off the air mattress. Or when we climbed A mountain one night. Or the times we hit the gym. Or when we played 1 v 1 bball and I beat him...once.
I could talk about all the time we spent this year during POA band season. Every day for lunch and dinner during band camp. Walking around after football games. Driving back from Homecoming at 3 am. Being bus buddies for the bowl trip. Buying t-shirts at the mall in El Paso.
I could talk about lunches at Barro's. Or ordering the same Vito, no tomatoes, sweet peppers, and a Cherry Coke, at Jimmy John's...always. Or baking brownies. Or my mom making him eat a ridiculous amount of pasta. Or when he put on an apron and made me corn dogs. Or how much he loves the cakes I bake. Or how he eats tons of Thin mints at 2 am.
I could talk about the time he came swimming when I was babysitting 5 kids. And the 5year old girl totally fell in love with him. And then all the kids begged me to invite him for dinner because they liked him so much.
I could talk about when we bought sneakers. Or when we watched Seven. Or when we ordered at Carls Jr. then backed out of the drive thru. Or when he did that at Taco Bell because he forgot his wallet.
Most importantly, I could talk about how far we've come since those awkward conversations. How comfortable I am with him. How goofy we are. How he drives me crazy, but how I couldn't imagine life without him.
So, here's to you!
Salud.

Here's to you: #1

So I decided that I would start dedicating my posts to people, occasionally that is. And by that, I mean, blogging about someone significant in my life, because I feel like it's the least I can do to show my appreciation for whatever they do for me. I'm calling it, "Here's to You." (Kind of like giving someone a toast. Just on a blog. Through writing.)
Here's the catch.
I'm not naming names.
I don't want it to be some sort of advertisement, and some sort of competition/controversy of who's name is on the blog, but rather, I want to explain the impact these people have on me, and publicize the awesome people I'm lucky to have in my life.
So, enjoy!

Over the years I've had many friends. Some closer than others. Like, way closer than others. But not all of those friendships have lasted. And that's okay. Really. Because from every single one of those friendships, I've learned lessons. I honestly don't regret any of them.
But I'm not here to talk about the friends I've lost.
I'm here to talk about the one friend I've kept since sophomore year.
I moved at the end of October my sophomore year.
It was the roughest year of my life.
But I'm not here to talk about the roughest year of my life.
I'm here to talk about the kid in my Spanish and Block classes.
The kid who called me "Florida."
Who made fun of me for writing, "Fresh to death, THUG LIFE 727," all over my stuff. (I seriously hated Arizona, sorry.)
The kid who originated (yes it was this kid) the name, Sca-Harlot. (He was making up raps, I told him the only word that rhymed with Scarlett was harlot. Mistake? maybe.)
I was searching for a picture today, and I came across some from sophomore year.
There I found pictures of the kid who befriended me when I was the Negative-Nancy-New-Girl.
The kid who might be more competitive than me.
Put us together and we'll own you in a debate. About stem cell research, specifically. (Don't play Risk with him though. He's over the top then.)
There was a solid year that I barely hung out, let alone talked, to this kid.
Then we had seminary together 2nd semester senior year.
It's like nothing ever changed.
This is the kid I would trust with my life.
The kid gives the best advice, I assure you.
"Fake it till you make it."
And even if he goes to another school, we have the best catch up seshes. At my house. Til 2 am. During winter break, specifically.
And this kid knows how to have a good time.
Specifically for my birthday. Dancing. Hard.
Or conquering mountains. Or floating down rivers. Or pool hopping.
And I know this kid has my back. Always.
I feel like I just don't give this kid enough credit for how awesome he is.
At the end of it all though, this kid is someone I know I might not see every day, or talk to every week...but I always know he'll be there when I need him most. Especially when I want to have a good time. (Involving, but not limited to: pudding, toilet paper, Bahama bucks, and the Boondocks)
So, here's to you!
Salud.