uh-huh.
it's a sh!t salad sandwich buffet.
yeah.
and don't worry,
it's got a drive-thru.
hmmm?
oh, yes, indeed,
always-
they F* you in the drive-thru.
that's so a thing.
it doesn't matter where i leave from,
or where i'm headed,
the horned gods and the old deities,
the local pantheon reserved for druids,
shamans, and other certified silliness,
have all conspired to make me the patron saint of hermitage.
it's not being places that i hate, neighbors.
it's going places.
layovers, stopovers, stayovers, delays,
turbulence, traffic.....
you name it,
i had it happen.
uh-huh.
i could actually SEE the plane i couldn't board,
and stood around like i might've considered being a for-real A*-hole.
i decided against it,
but still......
looking directly at a plane whose gate has closed,
after seeing that you missed your travel window by three minutes?
the hardest styles choose themselves for you, kids.
so,
what does one do when being predictably stuck,
after being hopeful beyond rational good form,
and then,
being brought down onto the tarmac by a much more
realistic thwarting by the spirits of adventure?
and all of those ups and downs in the airport in philly?
you eat a pretzel,
and you communicate competently with any and everyone,
until the hours are spanned,
the plans are changed,
and you touch down in minnesota.
there's more to the story, friends,
but you'll have to wait to hear about it;
never quiet, never soft.....
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