jet-setting

When you hear the term "jet-setting," you probably picture first class seats, champagne, Florence and Dolce. Or perhaps, if you're like me, a certain challenge from Project Runway season three comes to mind, boasting an alarming mix of disastrous get-ups among suave and elegant styles.

I doubt that any of you pictured me, in jeans and a t-shirt, commuting from Richmond to DFW three times within three weeks. The 3Ls are right -- the first time it's fun, the rest of the time it's just a pain.

Okay, I'm not complaining. Technically I guess I am, but I don't mean to complain. I mean, what could better than an all-expenses paid trip home, right? Plus, the places I've gotten to stay are pretty swanky (to date, I've stayed at the Ritz-Carlton twice and the Fairmont Dallas once). I say it in all humility -- I actually think it's kind of ridiculous how much firms spend on recruiting law students -- and I've definitely had moments where I promise that people are looking me up and down and trying to figure out what in the world I'm doing in their upper-escheleon world. But I know that I better be careful, because my teacher mother, phD-seeking sister (who will have to pay her own way throughout the country when she goes on her internship interviews, though she'll be much cooler than I am and should get the star treatment) and social worker best friend will probably start to yell at me.

Seriously, though, I'm tired of fancy meals and endless small talk. There was one interview over lunch where I really, desperately wished I could get a burger. Probably not the classiest move in the world.

Thank the Lord for these two weeks I've had away from the Richmond airport. Away from fancy foods and thoroughly immersed in my Bagel Bites, naked spaghetti and Dr. Pepper. Really, this is the life.

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