One of the worst aspects of long-term travel as an American is that you might possibly miss Thanksgiving. Other holidays are okay to miss: The Fourth of July is the rare chance to rub something in the face of the British (“So yeah…this must be awkward for you, huh?”), Christmas is wonderful everywhere, and if you’re sober enough to know what country you’re in on St. Patty’s Day, you’re doing it wrong.
But Thanksgiving needs to be celebrated at home. Not just in the US: at home. Here’s what you go through when you’re an American abroad:
You notice Thanksgiving is coming up so you check plane ticket prices online, but it’s not happening.
So you desperately start asking around to see if anyone is hosting a Thanksgiving dinner…
You finally find a fellow American who offers to cook the turkey.
Because it’s not Thanksgiving without a crowd, you invite all of your non-American friends.
But they don’t seem to understand the holiday.
“Didn’t you guys…?”
You try to explain that Thanksgiving is less about this:
And more about this:
And a lot about this:
Your foreign friends also don’t seem to understand the amount of food you’re piling on your plate.
Eventually, you realize it’s not the same, and waddle home.
You call your family on Skype, and they tell you what they’re doing.
And then, maybe if they’re feeling really dickish, they’ll show you their food.
And you’re like:
Finally, you hang up and go into the corner and do this by yourself: