Home is where the plane lands

Last weekend I attended a wedding in Philadelphia. Home of Liberty. Cradle of the United States. I was actually in the wedding as a part of my continued JBA studies. For those that are unaware of that acronym, it stands for Jew by Association. This was my second stint.

It was a Jewish / Chinese wedding which gave it a certain flair. Two friends from ad school, Mike and Susan, who make the unlikeliest pair. Until you hear them both laugh. At which point you know they are perfect for each other.

Being in the wedding, and flying from the left coast, I didn't have much time to explore. Friday morning, I did manage a quick breakfast with my man Bill. Dutch country French toast floating in a kiddie sized pool of butter. Bill moved to Philly to be Head Art Director Honcho and Master of All Things Virginia Tech at an agency called Stick and Move. A great little shop started by the illustrious Steve O'Connell. Himself a fine man and known for his ability to collect great sums of metal from award shows the general public knows nothing about.

On Friday night, it was great to catch up with several old ad school friends. And to buy them beers. Which were astoundingly cheap. That is to say normal priced. It was also fantastic of my friend Elizabeth to drive all the way from Syracuse just to be my date. That is to say make me look good on the dance floor, meet people awkwardly and be best friends with them in a matter of minutes, stand around a lot as I was off making sure Mike didn't sweat through his tux, generally be wonderful to me and make sure that I didn't get cranky. I can do that at an outside wedding where it's 90+ and I'm wearing a black tux while my precious Tar Heels lose to ECU in the second football game of the season. She handled everything with plenty of grace and charm so I didn't have to. I heard, "She is so lovely," again and again.

Once the happy couple was hitched, dances were danced and cake was eaten, we all went back to the hotel bar for story time and high philosophy. We solved the world's problems, told many tall tales and waited anxiously for Mike and Susan to make an appearance in normal clothes. They did. And left appropriately quickly thereafter. There was a breakfast on Sunday but I missed it as my flight out was set for 8 a.m. and I had to return the rental pig that I had been driving around. Which was bright orange. With Jersey plates. If my driving didn't say I'm an a-hole, the car was screaming it for me. But el pig did have XM radio so I got to hear the last second field goal that sunk my team. Crap car.

Once the car was returned and I made my way to the airport with the other bleary eyed and harried passengers, it was time to check in. At which point the counter person asked where I was headed. "Home, to...San Francisco," was my reply. Hitch and all. I actually had to think to not say North Carolina. And a bit of me was sad. And another bit of me was not. There's a couple things that will never change. Mike will always be loud. Susan will always be razor sharp funny. Elizabeth will always be lovely and NC will always be home.

Just not right now.