sarahcentric

Remember when Tom Hanks was funny?

Well, I guess he’s still funny sometimes on Conan or Letterman. But think back to a time when Tom’s movies didn’t have to be about his favorite hobbies and history lessons? They used to be about mermaid girlfriends who devour lobsters, shells and all. He starred on a TV show as an advertising agency exec who was willing to cross-dress for an apartment. I mean really, there was NOTHING else available? Of course not, because that wouldn’t have been as funny. And Tom Hanks was FUNNY.

I may never get Tom Hanks Version 1.0 back. But no one can take away one of my favorite lines ever. When Tom Hanks arrives at his disaster of a house in The Money Pit. He sighs loudly and says, “Ahhhh…Home Crap Home”

It sums up Post Vacation Depression (PVD) perfectly. There’s nothing quite like the 2 to 3 days of The Darkness you experience checking your email, catching up on the bills, and dumping the milk you forgot to finish before you left. And I gotta tell you guys, The Darkness post Australia was DARK. Dark like, “Didn’t I see a creepy, big pharma commercial for a new drug that can cure PVD? Because I need that!” Dark like this text I sent, “Just arrived in San Francisco. May have to eat 4 lbs of Sees Toffee-ettes to push feelings down. I checked the TimTams.”

The Australian strain of PVD is violent. But I’m discovering that the recovery process is way sweet. I miss Australia so much that my heart seems more open to everything I have right here in New York City. Recovery starts as it always does on Intervention, with the support of your friends and family. As soon I hit send on my suicidal Sees’ Toffee-ettes text, I got a call right back. “Oh thank god you’re home! We missed you so much!” Friends take the time to sample every variety of TimTam you brought back with thoughtful detail. And when the first New York City weekend arrives, it’s ready to show off big time. “You thought Sydney was great, well check this out…”

Friday Night…hit the biergarten at Loreley on the Lower East Side. Chat with your friends about every single thing you missed in the last 3 weeks. And then turn to the guy sitting next to you who just happens to be Australian! Go ahead and reminisce about Bondi and vegemite and Flat Whites. Don’t say that New York City can’t be a little sensitive sometimes, Sarah.

Saturday night…bachelorette party. And it’s a cool one, because your friends are cool. No penis necklaces or ridiculous hats. Just an amazing dinner at Butter where the executive chef talks to the table for 10 minutes just because she misses her girlfriends so much. Then you’ll move on to another bar, dance your face off, and get hit on repeatedly by a 21 year old. When he says you should get married sky-diving naked, just say “but wouldn’t that chafe?” Trust me. it will kill.

Sunday…Sleep in. Like, old-school sleep in, 12:30p. The way that 21 year old still does. Then head to another set of cool friends in Long Island City who can’t wait to catch up and talk about your trip. Please do not ignore the subway signage, Sarah JACKSON. One more sign that you are where you belong.

Sunday evening…you’re going to show up at your friends apartment with the best of intentions. You want to rock out on their amazing terrace and order fish tacos from Greenpoint. But it’s going to rain any second, as it ALWAYS does when you show up at their place to hang out on their terrace. No worries though, mate! You’ll crack up about that ridiculous fact while eating all of the insane treats your awesome hosts have laid out. Fish tacos go out the window because the treat spread is so beyond satisfying. Walk home with a belly full of nyomblers, listen to the Jackson 5, and you won’t have to wait long for the N train. Promise. New York City is not always an a-hole, Sarah!

Indeed, it’s not. I miss Australia like crazy and look forward to re-living it with all of you. But I’m living New York City right now. It’s happening all over again, but entirely different at the same time.

This is Sarah Jackson New York City, version 2.0.