Oh Noes

I woke up this morning with a massive headache, legs that ached in a way they really haven't since I stopped growing (circa 2002), chills, and a fever of 100.1. My initial thought was that I couldn't be hung over, I really couldn't, I'd had two beers last night and if I was, this was going to bode very ill for Scotland.

My second thought was that Brother Boy's stupid cat had scratched my leg, and that the wretched beast has finally found a way to exact cruel revenge upon me for closing my door all the time (the liter box was moved into my room after I left for college.)

A quick search left me not entirely convinced that what I have is cat scratch fever - I mean, I think I'd know if my lymph nodes swelled up and they haven't - but I definitely have Something Bad, and orientation is on the 3rd. I operated all day today with the iron clad conviction that This Will Not Stop Me From Flying, but tonight my fever went up to 101.5 and that's really kinda high to take a Bear Grylls approach to travel. To be honest, maybe it's because my forehead can cook eggs right now, but I'm more stunned than upset about this. I had a month to be sick, a month, and this happens the day before I fly. I'm completely packed, too. Everything was ready to go. I was ready to go.



All I can do, though, is call the continental hotline and see how much they'd squeeze me for if I have to change my flight (Update: an extra $500. Pray for me, ya'll) pop a benadryl, and get mom to take me to the doctor in the morning. Te be continued...

Bienvenidos a Miami

Good morning, internet. Lately I've been reading a lot of British news online. The BBC, The Scotsman, The Guardian, The Times. Not just for world affairs, which is much more, um, worldly that our sad excuses for news outlets in the US; but also things like sports, which is called sport in their papers, for some reason. I've been trying to learn where things are with the World Cup, why I need to despise Man U and Chelsea, and in general how to talk about sport(s) over there without belittling cricket. This is all made much more difficult by the fact that in my heart of hearts I adore American Football, which I understand is often, and perhaps not unjustly, referred to as Armoured Catch. But I don't care. I think it is just the best sport ever since jousting went out of style. It is the only form of competition my hippy-dippy self embraces. And the two football teams that I love, great or terrible, but usually terrible, are my father's New York Giants, and my New Orleans Saints.


So tonight was kind of a big deal.

It's very hard to explain what the Saints are and what they mean post-Katrina. It's something you either feel and understand or you don't. There's a very good, and very long, article on Espn that tries to get it across. But it's hard. There is no community anywhere in this country that is more in love with a sports team, more dependent on them for its emotional gratification and even its sense of self. There is no sports team anywhere in this country that knowingly positions itself to be not just a franchise but a symbol of, by, and for its community. From Rita Benson to Sean Payton to Drew Brees on down, the team's mission, comportment, and rhetoric are all about winning, but aren't. It's also about service, about working, about the city.

There's a reason Drew Brees' "Finish Strong" t-shirts, to benefit nola charities, have sold more 40,000 times over. There's a reason why there are billboards that simply say "Bless You, Boys!" and bumper stickers that say "Believe." This isn't Philly or Boston or New York, where fans get off on hitting the quarterback in the mouth or pummeling anyone wearing the opposing team's jersey. Our fans inundate Youtube with raps and pop singles (I love, because it is a cover of a bizarre Miley Cyrus song and refuses to always rhyme, Party in the MIA), wear pope hats, and drink and y'at and just plain have a party. What the Saints do every Sunday isn't football, although of course it is. It's become an expression of us.

I'm glad I decided to keep driving down St. Charles tonight after the game ended instead of going straight home. There were a great many people dancing on the neutral ground and honking over potholes and radio stations were playing dyi fan anthems or Rebirth Brass Band. I couldn't stop smiling. People are flooding Bourbon Street like it's the last Mardi Gras ever, and everyone's getting hella drunk crunk. I have no idea about the withertos or the wherefors of watching the next game in Scotland, but right now I couldn't care less. We went undefeated for the first 13 games in the season. We forced five turnovers tonight. We won an NFC title game, after 43 years of trying. We're going to the Super Bowl. It's enough.

First Post

Good evening, internet. I'd like to welcome all three spyware programs and the one teenage girl who found this site via the "new blog" list on the blogger homepage. Hi, ya'll.

These are the researches of A Southern Girl of Private Northern University, in which she will blog, in the hope of thereby preserving from her technology-challenged mother, the remembrance of what came to pass when she spent four months studying in Scotland, and of the great and wonderful pub quizzes of St. Andrews and Edinburgh; and withal to put on record what things she saw.

I do beg your pardon if, as above, I occasionally twist my writing into an elaborate, unfunny allusion that only I and my academic adviser might get. Part of the reason I chose to go to Scotland, aside from the fact that they all speak English (sort of), is that I love history and I am a geek - I continually find ways to connect and reference the things I love with things that really have no relation to them, like an introductory post on a travel blog.

See?

So, the traveling. Right now I am still waiting for very important things, like my phone, to arrive, and watching a lot of The West Wing and Scrubs. I'm not sure if getting packed and trying to stay centered is easier or harder because I have no idea what to expect, other than that this experience is going to change me. With college I had a ton of expectations, and I'd seen the place before I'd said yes, but I've never been out of the country and I have no concrete plans other than to honor a promise I made to my cousin to search for the Loch Ness Monster.

Five days until I fly. I'll keep ya'll posted.