34 Days

Guys. I leave for Spain in 34 days. How insane is that?

I Facebook-met two people in my group, and one of them is already there for pre-ILP, which makes me realize how soon I’ll be there too.

I don’t think I’m ready yet.  I’m remembering just how much I love L.A./Pasadena and all the people here.

I should probably send out a college newsletter soon and give everyone a link to this blog so they can start reading it.  Or maybe I’ll send it closer to the time since none of these posts are very interesting.

It still hasn’t hit me that I’m leaving so soon.  As ridiculously excited as I am, I need a few more months.

2 Responses

  1. mark_prule says:

    Hello Miss Vamos.

    It’s wonderful to learn that you’re from Los Angeles. It’s always great when I meet other people from the bear flag state on the Internet! I, myself, am from Glendora and I was thinking the other day that I come across other Californians practically everywhere I go.

    Since you are from Pasadena, I’m sure you are aware of the McDonalds near Lamanda Park. It is far and away my favorite of the many franchises and I will tell you the odd story of why that is.

    You see, for reasons unknown to me, the employees at McDonalds Lamanda Park believe that I am someone named “Mr. Logan.” Now my name is not Logan nor have I ever met another Californian by that name, but to the employees of this fast food restaurant he is clearly a man of some importance.

    When I walk in, I am treated like royalty… It’s like I am the Governor of California. Without fail, the cashier will exclaim something to the effect of “Mr. Logan! So great to see you today!” If the restaurant is empty, more often than not, one of the fry cooks will abandon his post and greet me as well.

    Occasionally, the manager comes out of the back office to greet me as soon as I walk in. He’ll check that his shirt is tucked in, straighten his tie, shake my hand and escort me to the counter like maître d’ of a fancy restaurant. “We’re so honored to have you stop by today.”

    Newer employees look at me oddly at first –as confused by all the fuss as I am– but invariably one of the veterans will take them aside to clue them in. Their eyes always go wide upon hearing the identity of M. Logan.

    I wish I knew what they were saying.

    Early on, I tried tried to clear up the misunderstanding. On the first day I became Logan, the manager whisked me to the cashier– paying no heed to the angry protests of the customers who were waiting their turn in the long line. “Don’t listen to them, Mr. Logan,” he said. I tried to explain that he had me confused with someone else when the woman who was now behind me in line muttered a complaint. The manager spun around with a wild look in his eyes. “Get off the premises now,” he hissed savagely.

    There was no going back to McDonalds anonymity after that.

    Things have calmed down since that incident. The employees who have seen me a handful of times have begun to feel comfortable around me. Several of them are now familiar terms with the esteemed Logan. They’ll crack jokes like “Mr. Logan’s here, hide the coffee!” I don’t understand these references half the time, but I try to say something agreeable. “Yes, hide it all.” Everyone roars with laughter and I suppose I do too.

    I tell you all of that to say that when you decide to return to California, you should stop on by Lamanda park and drop my name. Well, don’t use mine, but Logan’s.

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