Mashed Potatoes and Awkward

Bizzare is probably the best way to describe my entire weekend home for Thanksgiving.
I think it's best broken down into parts: The Awkward and The Adventure. There's a lot to the telling of this trip (loads of stories!) so I'll break it down into segments for easier reading. The total word count is approximately 2500 words; the following portion is a little less than 800.

Leg One
Omaha-Chicago-Madison/Waunakee

Part effort to not be late, part misjudgment of time, I showed up at the bus stop a good 45 minutes before the departure time. I didn’t know exactly where the bus would stop, so I wandered up and down the street and through the mall parking lot a little bit. There were people waiting for a city bus at the stop I thought most likely to be the one for Megabus, and I didn’t want to be in one place for too long, especially if it was wrong.

But I figured it was right when I saw about 20 people there with their luggage a while later. I struck up a conversation with the man who stood behind me. He looked to be in his late 20’s, early 30’s, foreign (turns out he’s from India) with great skin tone and complexion. Our conversation lasted an hour or so into the ride, during which I discovered I had adequately approximated his age (he’s been in Omaha 4 years, after completing his masters at UNL), that he works in some kind of research lab at UNMC and lives in the complex next to the one I lived in 4 years ago. So we were kind of neighbors at one point. He seemed vaguely interested when I told him about volleyball on Thursday nights, so I might actually cough up the gas money, put down the crochet hook and go this week!

This particular wait at Union Station wasn’t all that awkward. No one approached me or really even paid me much mind. My brother-in-law asked my sister why she was so worried about me being there alone, and she said, “Chicago’s the place where people get killed because someone wants their shoes.”
“Yeah, but who’d want seashmore’s shoes?” he asked. “And who would fit in them, anyway?” So true on both counts.

The bus ride to Madison wasn’t awkward, either, although it wasn’t until we were almost to our stop that I discovered I misunderstood Google's information about where the Dutch Mill Park & Ride is located. I'm wondering if it'd be just the same to go to the State St. stop. Thankfully, my dad was able to find Dutch Mill pretty quickly, despite my not knowing exactly where I was and his telling me that he had gotten completely lost the last time he tried to find the place two years ago to pick up someone from church.

We headed straight to his sister’s house in the only Waunakee in the world. Dinner was starting at 1, and we got there around 12:30. So I pretty much kept my aunt’s mother-in-law and dog out of her hair while she got dinner prepared. It’s amazing how much alike old and young people are. They’ll both ask, “Can I help? What can I do to help? Do you need anything?” to the point of wanting to scream, “The best way to help is to leave me alone!” I told my aunt if she needed me to do anything, I’d be around. Sometimes trying to find something for someone to do to help is more strenuous than just doing it yourself.

I didn’t see awkward again until I was at a table with my next-eldest cousin and ladies over 50. I was telling my cousin about a borderline gossipy story where someone said, “instigating” instead of “initiating” and the humor of that situation. I noticed the room getting quieter and quieter as I was telling him the story, which was awkward.
The next awkward moment came during the turkey walk when the mother of said cousin asked if I was seeing anyone. I said, “No,” sans any emotion whatsoever.
“Good,” said the woman I would consider happily married.
My empathy for awkwardity was extended to the only living female cousin I have on that side when my Aunt Middlenamesake asked her, “How are you doing” in the same way a therapist would, probably because my cousin’s boyfriend committed suicide just before her birthday a couple of weeks ago.

I do wish I was still registered to vote in Wisconsin so I could have signed a petition to recall Governor Walker. My aunt was passing one around and about a dozen of my working relatives are employed by (or retired from) the state in some way and deserve their right to assemble to negotiate benefits as much as I deserve representation for my taxation. (Mr. Suttle, I’m talkin’ to you.)

And an evening with Dad is never awkward. Although, for once, our conversation didn’t feature (Y)SA activities.

Before I went to bed, I texted a few people, and one of those conversations turned a bit…semantical. (I’ve been really wanting to use that word!)

Coming Soon....Mashed Potatoes and Awkward: Reheated