I Say Beatles Are Good Insects. Do You Say No?

Near the end of our trip to Edinburgh I asked everybody what their favorite part had been.  As it turned out, the conversation took a winding turn and I didn’t get a turn to say what I'd liked best.   That was actually a good thing though, because at the time, I really didn’t know what my favorite part had been.  I do know now though.   Hey!  Wipe that smug look off your face.   Drinking Strongbow or Magners or Guiness or Stella was not my favorite thing.  Well, not my absolutely, top of the list, nothing-in-the-world-is-better-than-this favorite thing anyway.  Geez.   I’m kind of hurt.

My favorite thing wasn’t the Scottish wildlife ...

or the Scottish countryside ...

or the architecture.

 

No.  My  favorite part was that we all came home together.  My favorite part of the whole trip was not saying goodbye to anybody.   Nada.  Aaon duine.   That’s right.  Not one person.  Nobody.     

 

I wasn't saying goodbye but I did say a lot of hellos.  I said an excited “Hi!” to Leslie when we picked her up for the four-hour drive to the airport.  The drive that took place a whole day early so we could miss the October snowstorm heading our way.

 I said a friendly “hello” to the British Airways lady who checked us in. 

 I said a very tired “hello” to the rude and cranky sourpuss customs guy in London.  He berated us all because we didn’t fill in an exact street address for where we were staying in Edinburgh.   “When that form says address it means exact address.   It doesn’t mean just a city.  If they didn’t want an exact address it wouldn’t say address.”   In my exhausted state I began searching for a pen to fill it in but he told me, “I"ll let it go this time but just make sure you don't ever do it again.”  He wrinkled up his nose like I'd been on a plane for nine hours without a toothbrush and dismissed me with a disgusted wave of his hand.   I did not say goodbye to him when I left his “kingdom”.  I just wanted to get away from him before he found something else to yell at us about.   It was a relief to finally get to say a “hooray, you made it! Hello!” to Abby in the London terminal after we escaped from the little dictator.

When we left Edinburgh on that last morning, the bus driver who took us to the airport said goodbye but I didn’t.  I said “thank you.”  The pilot on the plane said goodbye but not me.  I said, “thank you! (for not crashing the plane).”  The very friendly U.S. customs lady said hello AND goodbye.  I said “thanks!” for not being like Mr. London customs and wished the London guy had gone to the same customer service training she must have attended.  The shuttle driver who took us to the hotel where our car was parked said “bye bye” but not me, I said, ... nothing.  I was too tired.

When we got home I said hello to the kids.  

Some of the people I work with said hello to me in their own special way. 

 I really love saying hello.  So does Abby.  Look.  Even Dean is almost smiling.  He likes saying hello too.

 

But Friday I had to say goodbye.  And none of us like that.  Doesn't Dean look sad?

 
I tried to forget how to say that goodbye word –  juh ... ooo ... duh ....buh ... eee? I tried to remove it from my vocabulary.  Goodbye?  What?  What'd you say?  I don't understand what you're saying.  Never heard of the word.  I tried to pretend like I wasn’t going to have to use it.  I pretended like we were still on vacation together. 

 







But it didn’t work.  I had to finally say it.  And I didn’t like it. 
























So I pretended like I hadn’t said it.  And now I'm just thinking about when I can say hello again.  We’re all waiting.  Seven weeks and four days …

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I Say Beatles Are Good Insects. Do You Say No?