A Cranksgivmas Miracle

So I’m currently squatting in my friend’s flat at an empty UEA campus because my lease expired almost everyone leaves campus on Dec 18. Luckily, a few Americans are still here to keep me company (the ones who are not stranded at Heathrow airport because of the centimeter of snow that shut the entire country down. I predicted that. One point for me.) Unluckily, they all seem to be working on papers and/or sick. I don’t mind because, I love Norwich and could explore it forever. Unfortunately, Norwich closes around 4PM leaving me about 12 hours in solitary and darkness for the next few days. This would be troubling if not for my unparalleled abilities to entertain myself – thus far I have designed an elaborate treasure map involving obscure American presidential pet trivia, mastered a Beyonce song on the ukulele (she is so damn classy), read up on every other possible disease I will be contracting in India, taught myself to french braid via youtube video, and applied for a day time soap opera writing internship with the credentials that my American Studies history will gives me expertise in the areas of drag queens, which they could use in their plot, and that I can help them not be racist (I worded it slightly differently). Anyway, it’s a comfort to know that if I ever return to my life of crime, I won’t have to worry solitary confinement driving me insane.

Since I’m still in England, I’m just going to continue to be in denial about the fact that I won’t be seeing UEA or any of its fine people again until May, delay the sappy farewell post, and talk about Cranksgivmas, the greatest holiday in the entire universe, instead.

Cranksgivmas is the holiday that my flat decided to invent because Holly and I really really wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving, but we were so busy with work that by the time we could schedule it, it was closer to Christmas. I was originally supposed to help with said preparations, but the Technology Apocalypse had me a little swamped last week, so I actually just wrote a paper and fell asleep in my half folded laundry. Buddy Holly, being the fantastic person that she is, organized a glorious collegey feast for our flat with the help of our flat mate, Joe. I say collegey feast because we have no oven (fire hazard) so we had turkey lunch meat, but all the other essentials were there, including candied yams and my other favorite Thanksgiving foods, delightful Christmas carols, the one Thanksgiving carol in existence by Adam Sandler, Lady Gaga (our flat’s musical staple), Laura’s weird Aussie Christmas music with kangaroos and stuff, and those awesome English popper things that have the paper crown and awful joke inside (side note: English poppers are illegal to mail to the United States if they are not in their original packaging. The Royal Post pamphlet made this very clear. They don't want to share the joy with other nations).

Look at it. It's beautiful

Anyway, imagine my delight when I woke up in a pile of half folded socks to the joyous sound of English people trying to make sense of a weird American holiday. Here is the origins story of Cranksgivmas that our dear English flatmate Joe wrote:

And God looked over the calendar and he saw a blank spot at around the 16^th of December about a week before Saturnalia. And God spoke and he said Let there be Cranksgivmas. And it was so. And God saw Cranksgivmas and it was good.

Many years later and Santa Claus was sailing over the sea with some puritan chaps in the year of 1700 of thereabouts. Santa was sad as a few days earlier they had run out of food. Dasher and Donner and Blitzen kebabs had only lasted the first few weeks of the voyage and the Rudolph pie had also been consumed quicktime. Fortunately George Washington was a good  fisherman (and strong seamen) and was able to catch the occasionally Atlantic Trout-fish for the starving crew. Eventually Santa was so saddened by the loss of his reindeer friends that he tried to take his own life. He walked to the bow of the ship and prepared to jump off. Santa then jumped into the swirling fish infested water. Fortunately for millions of future children and coca cola marketing execs Santa’s suicide bid was spotted by Benjamin Franklin (inventor of electricity and bifocals). Franklin alerted Washington who lept into the water at great danger to his own life. When asked about this later old Georgie would always say (in a thick west country accent), “I cannot tell a lie. I did that thing.” In fact whilst in the water Washington had his teeth knocked out by a flying fish and for the rest of his life was forced to wear a false set consisting of chicken beaks and cheese rind.

Many years later Santa would honour the day that he was saved by Washington by having a piss up and food and the like. The puritanical pilgrims promptly forgot about the incident.

I just wanted to share that. I think it’s hysterical. Anyway, it ended up being a great farewell dinner because we all got to go around the table and talk about what we were thankful for. And then Alessio danced to Lady Gaga. I can't actually remember what the Cranksgivmas miracle was.

Next few days (after the remaining days of creepy UEA solitude. Call me Thoreau... except with internet instead of a cabin, so the opposite of Thoreau), should be really exciting. I'm going to my friend Becca's house for a real English Christmas, which will undoubtedly have more English poppers with silly crowns and jokes, and then I'm catching my plane to India (which I will properly express my enthusiasm for the second my brain actually recognizes the fact that I am going to India and rather than having a crazy cough syrup dream in which I travel the world).

So I might be posting about ten more times tonight (I was lying about the solitary confinement thing. I'm definitely going a little nuts. That's okay though. I can french braid now.) Until then some exciting India fun facts:

Things that antiquated travel books have assured me are acceptable:

No eating, passing things, (or doing any of the things that require the fine motor skills of a left handed person like myself) with my left hand.
If a man harrasses me on the street it is social acceptable to punch him in the face with no reprecussions.
Rather than saying please such as "please can I have a packet of sugar," I should shout "SUGAR, SUGAR"
In Indian English if I request "brown sugar" I have requested narcotic drugs.
Also apparently the phrase "pass out at college" means to graduate (slightly different meaning in America).

Someone is trying to trick me.