Without giving too much away, George Clooney plays Ryan Bingham, a man who is contracted to help layoff massive amounts of people. His job keeps him travelling quite a bit, and contrary to most stereotypes of air travel, Ryan has come to love it; so much so that he is really only comfortable living in hotels and flying in planes. He knows the layouts of airports, can wax philosophic about car rental kiosks and often has to shuffle through several key cards for old hotels stranded in his suit pockets. He has attached himself to the transient life style, never staying anywhere too long, and staying detached. To hammer the point home even further, Alex gives inspirational talks that suggest people should cut their attachments from their lives, living more freely.
Through the course of the movie, he has to show up start Natalie Keener (played by Anna Kendrick) how his job works, teaching her the subtleties of firing people. Natalie wants to streamline the process, using computer terminals connected to agents in one centrally located facility. Obviously, Ryan is against this. While out on the road, he spends his time defending his life style choices and having romantic trysts with Alex (played by Vera Firminga).
At one point, he is having a conversation with American Airlines chief pilot Maynard Finch (played by the always bad ass Sam Elliot), and Maynard asks Ryan where he's from. At this point in the movie, Ryan is fairly pensive and says, "I'm from here," meaning the plane.
Last year, I applied to give a presentation at the San Diego Comic-Con; the biggest convention of comic book nerds on the planet. This was a great opportunity to meet people, get the latest news, and just revel in my nerdery. They had an unprecedented number of applicants this year, so I knew I needed to make my abstract stand out. Each abstract was to be accompanied by a brief bio, and here is where I saw my chance to stand apart: I made myself look British. Now, I know this is dirty pool, but I never lied. This is what I wrote:
"Keegan Lannon has begun work on his PhD at Aberystwyth University in Wales in an attempt to read comic books professionally. His dissertation topic focuses on comic books and narrative theory."
Sneaky, but not a lie. With a name like Keegan, a small University on the coast of Wales, it was likely that the reader would assume I was Welsh, or at least British. It's not my fault that I didn't dissuade them from this assumption; after all, it benefit me. I was accepted and gave a great presentation.
Tomorrow is the Superbowl, and my British friends have been peppering me with questions about who is playing, who I am rooting for, and so on. This is fine; I like being an expert in something simply because I am the only person to have seen in live. My friend Jamie was talking about how the previous year he had a party for the Superbowl and our mutual friend Aaron, from Ohio (I know, right, but trust me...he's not that big an asshole), was "the guy who knew what the hell was going on." And this year, I was going to be that guy.
My housemate Bernie is from Pembrokeshire, a town just south of here, and has the thickest accent I have encountered to date. Couple that with the colloquialisms he riddles his speech with and I often times find myself very confused. "Aw man, crack on then. I'm going to roll some 'baccy then catch you up." See: as words, I can understand most of those, but as a sentence arranged as such, I have no clue what he means (It means that we should keep going, because he's going to roll a cigarette; he'll then come and find us at the final location). He speak the same language, but there is still a language disconnect grounded firmly in our different cultural experiences.
When I was home for my Grandma's funeral, I ran into my sister's best-friend, Sarah. I've known Sarah since I was 16 (0r so). You could expect that she would be able to recognize me. However, for a brief second, she looked at me not as the brother of her best friend, but as some stranger that was approaching her. "I didn't recognize you," she said, "you look so European..." This has been a bit of theme whenever I go home: my family and friends noticing how British/European I have become. From the way words like "chips" (for french fries), "bloody" and "take away" have entered my vocabulary, to my sitting posture, to my new tea drinking habits, I am apparently not the person I was a year ago.
You can see where this is going...
This change probably answers for why I both look forward to and cringe from going home this summer. For one, Aberystwyth is glorious during the summer. The air is warm, with cooling breezes off the ocean. I spent most of May on the beach last year, barbecueing, reading, and basically enjoying the glorious weather. But secondly, I have started to feel like this is where I belong. Or maybe this is where I want to belong. I have a purpose here, I have a direction, and I have a reason for being here. When I am at home, I spend my time thinking about all the things I should be doing, like reading and writing.
But, sometimes when I am here, I get really lonely. I was raised in a different environment with different shared cultural moments. Though the Internet and ubiquity of American television has allowed most of my British friends to have some passing understanding of what life is like in America, it would be nice to not have to contextualize stories about my junior high school experience. And while I really life walking everywhere, I sometimes miss having a car. Though, truthfully, I don't think I would drive anywhere. I hated living in the city with people that wanted to drive everywhere; there is a reason why the city put in public transportation, and tried to provide what you would need within walking distance.
Returning to Up in the Air, like Ryan, I don't feel I fit anywhere. Because I am now a commingling of experiences that no one set of people are ever going to be able to relate to, I am destined to be an "other" for the rest of my life. Next time you fill in a form that asks for personal information, you will be asked about your ethnicity: white, black, Latino, etc. There is always that one box labelled "other" for people who don't fit into to any predetermined descriptor. I had to check that box for the first time while over here, and I can see why social critics find it so stigmatizing. This form didn't expect me (if it did, it would have had a box for me to check). I am on the fringes, with fringe habits. When I am in America, people are going to wonder about my Britishness (as little as there is); when I am here, I am American (or sometimes Canadian if someone can't place the accent).
In the end, though, I'm fine with that. The experience of living in a foriegn country has broadened my horizons, and I feel made me a better person. I have a different perspective on America now that I have seen how other people see it; which has made me both love and hate my motherland. In the end, I hope to be more well-rounded an individual. Having to constantly explain what the C on my hat stands for is a small price to pay.
And at least over there you can admit that the C stands for Cubs without any stigma........
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