Liel and I slept on the floor next to Allison's mattress. I tend to agree with what I assume is the main reason her mattress lies on the floor, not on the makeshift cinder block enhanced bed frame - comfort.
Allison is the girl whose contract I bought.
Her best friend from high school is Iranian, and got a job in England this summer. She had been inviting Allison to just come out and live with her for the next few months since something like February, but there never was a plane ticket, and things just weren't right.
Two days ago, things became right. Allison found a miraculous plane ticket, and decided to just leave. This timing was insane for both of us.
In the middle of the night, she suddenly shouted, "Where's my passport!?!?!?!"
Liel said, "Don't worry, it's on your desk where you left it."
This morning, as I watched her pack, I started to realize that there is a huge world apart from going somewhere, and going somewhere. I will never pretend that I was Jordanian. However, I did really live a Jordanian life, not an American one with a different background. The Hammouri family considered me their daughter. I didn't have the luxury, or perhaps curse, of being able to randomly shove clothes (unfolded!) from J. Crew into a designer suitcase the morning I was leaving spontaneously on a trip to England. Imagine my Arab friends in the same situation...not even close to a possibility.
Liel later said, "You know, this wouldn't make any sense if we weren't twenty. Like, in ten years, this would never happen."
Instead of being pissed at the snobbism, the richness, the elitism, the wall of difference between our cultures that we willingly build when we do ridiculous things like this - I decided to force myself into bemusement. "Hmmm...isn't she crazy?"
Hey, my apartment rocks! Complaining would be even crazier!
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