For Dailer

This past weekend was fantastic, in large part because I was graced by the presence of one Erin Elizabeth Dailer.

I know that many of my posts turn into lengthy missives about how awesome each of my friends are. It’s true, I could write love letters about each other them. But those are for another time. This love letter is for Dailer.

I met Erin during my freshman year, when we were both wide-eyed, dumb 18-year-olds who were both excited and terrified at being away from home for the first time, me away from the land of 10,000 lakes and Erin from Wild, Wonderful West Virginia. I was from a place where vowels are abused and stretched to new lengths and octaves, Dailer was from a place where “L” can be dropped completely from nearly any word.

During our four years together, we laughed until our stomachs hurt, made huge mistakes, stuffed our faces with shrimps and quesadillas in the caf, ate chips in our underpants in the middle of the night, and tried to make sense out of what it means to grow up.

Erin is also the girl who invented the phrase, “shit-talking mushroom,” in an attempt to repeat the words, “shitake mushroom.” Perhaps the best way to describe Erin is through this childhood photograph, which was actually on display at a local dive bar in Cincinnati until some jealous person swiped it from behind the bar.

See? She was always cool. And she grew up to be even coolor, as evidenced by this later photo:

On May 15, 2005, I drove my Honda Civic (I’m so sensible) to Minnesota, and up until last week, that was the last I’d seen of Erin Dailer. God bless the 21st Century, whose emails and phone calls have kept us connected, but there is no substitute for actually hanging out with a dear friend.

In true Nora fashion, I of course had to make a routine trip to the airport into a debacle. I was so excited to get Erin that I ran out the door and directly into a gypsy cab, having no idea what airline Erin was flying. Luckily, Dailer answered her phone and the cab driver pulled up to the right baggage claim…which is when I realized that in my haste to leave the apartment, I had forgotten my wallet.

Cabdrivers are not exactly excited to hear the words, “Um….I don’t have any money.” After much awkward silence I figured out how to resolve the issue. “Are you Catholic?” I asked the driver, “Because I am. And I swear to God, to Mother Mary, to Jesus himself that if you circle the airport I will be right here. Then you can drive us back and I’ll pay you.” FINALLY, being a Catholic pays off. Are you listening, Meghan?

An entire year had passed from the last time I had seen Erin, and still, when I saw her in the airport, it was as if we were still sharing the top floor of a hovel in Cincinnati. There she was, with her shiny new bob and her superpreppy Vera Bradley duffel, wandering aimlessly through the baggage claim looking for the terrible friend who had almost had to compromise her morals to get out of a cab.

In was great to have Erin here for a few days, not only to have a partner for shopping and wandering, but also to know that you have a friend who is always a friend, no matter how much time has passed since the last time you’ve seen her. Our weekend was a whirlwind of “First Trip To New York” activities. My favorite part was watching two extremely awkward and adorable 16-year-olds perform magic at Union Square. The first one hammered a nail into his nose and ate a broken lightbulb. The second one rode a unicycle, told stale stand-up jokes, and proclaimed, “David Blaine can DIE! I’m awesome!”

Total papparazzi shot.

Total kid-on-vacation shot.

Erin's first trip to New York was most definitely a success. Erin crept out of Apartment 9 in the wee hours of Sunday morning, flying back to lovely Kansas City. Who knows how long it will be until we see each other, maybe months, maybe another year. It's only appropriate in this situation to misquote the popular television series, "Sex And The City," in the episode where Carrie says something about something something and then the last line is something about friends being only a plane ride away. Totally fits this situation. Love you Dailer.