One of my first jobs was in an information kiosk near the Staten Island Ferry. There I was trained into the job by an aging queen, the type you rarely meet anymore. His opening line to the unsuspecting tourist was, "Welcome to New York City, lower your expectations."
Through the years I've actively tried to lose expectations. They're "resentments waiting to happen" say some, "a good way to spoil things" say others. But it's hard to do away with them altogether if you live among the human race.
This situation, in particular, has been an exercise in expectations shot to Hell. If one cannot depend on the word of someone you must depend upon, what can one do? Well, lower your expectations. Learn that what anyone says in the situation means absolutely nothing and that nobody knows anything, whatever they may say. Don't believe anything you're told. Seeing is believing, actions are louder than words, etc. Yes, that sucks. But how many times must it be proven before a certain reluctance to believe sets in?
It's rotten to lose faith and trust in anyone, but there can come a time when it would be foolish to keep it. That's where I am now in the mix of trying to get home. I simply cannot believe anything I'm told by any of "the authorities" anymore. It doesn't bode well for an ongoing relationship; that's unfortunate. But if I have the choice of simply not believing whatever they say or having my hopes dashed, I'll be a skeptic.
Meanwhile, here I am in Maine until I'm not anymore.
I'll Fly Away
23 hours ago