This trip was a bit of a surprise as it came so soon after, but at least I knew what I was in for this time around. At least the hotel is better but the car is much, much shittier. I'll get to that in a moment.
I have decided I hate the entire act of flying. Don't get me wrong, I love being up in the air, but the whole jumbled mess of people bothers the hell out of me.
See, I took the plane out of STL and had a quick stop in Phoenix. (Note: As we headed toward town the Captain said, "Prepare for our descent into Phoenix", but I was knee-deep in a book reading my way to freedom from this hell and I heard "Prepare for our descent into MADNESS!" I thought, "Well alllriiiight then. This I can get down with!" But no, it was just Phoenix.) For the entire ride from STL to Phoenix I had to sit next to a young portly pale-white nun. I thought this might cause an issue what with my horns showing and all, but she seemed perfectly pleased to keep to herself. Excellent.
At Phoenix though, "How do you solve a problem like Maria" left and on walked this elder ebony lady looking all sweet and demure. This shows you, folks, that looks can be deceiving. Oh, I was all worried about the nun, but not so with the sweet elder black lady. Damn my reverse prejudice! (Or something?)
Anyway, so she saddles up and the first thing that hits me is that this woman smells of meat and jism for some reason. It's... it's fucking stifling is what it is. I am scrambling like a cat on crack to try and define what the hell this scent could be. In the meantime, she has been trying to strike up a conversation with me about various plane related things. "Have you flown before? What are you here for? Etc etc." I hate smalltalk, and this stench is making me even more uncomfy. Obviously perturbed by my curt (but polite) answers she guffaws and opens her purse to get a book of her own, the Bible.
I'm down with whatever you want to believe, but it's a sign of my own unfairness that I'm always a little creeped out when people want to read the bible just.. as it is. You know, like it was a book? *shudder* Anyway, that's neither here nor there since I can't concentrate on my own book (Catch22 by Joseph Heller if you must know) because of the wafting scent.
It becomes readily apparent what this smell is as she tires of the bible immediately after the go-ahead for electronic devices. She sets about herself to pull out some stored meal from a place I assume was in the airport. It is a dish of Steak and Shrimp. She lays this out oppulently spilling over onto my lap even (Seriously I had to hold the candellabra and the wine glasses and play the violing and suchlike. It was a mess. I don't even know how to play the violin.) Meanwhile she's also watching "Ice Princess" on a mini-DVD player, but she has no headphones so I get to hear the yap-yap-yapping of heavily retarded Disney saccharine bullshit while I try, in vain, to read.
All the while I'm doing this, it is as though I have stuck my head into a bag filled with warmed up day-old semen and steak sauce. I would've rather huffed paint, such was this smell. (It didn't help that I was a tad bit over before hung and such I'm certain but really now, it's cramped in there people... CRAMPED!)
So as I wasn't reading I tried to watch out the window as words floated in the space of my mind. If you have gotten so jaded that Mountains do not fill you with childlike awe then you need to off yourself this very instant. I mean that.
I watched rivlets of water shimmy-shake down the snow-kissed peaks of Sierras as it gave way to farmland in patchwork patterns of green and grey; some soaked, some stagnat. Every time I would smile in abject delight that damned foul stench would rise up yet again and pull me back down into the stinking mire of my situation.
This is how I began my journey back here.
Then I got the car. Some old Pontiac piece of whatever. The left front wheel goes "SEEKASEEKASEEKA" whenever you drive. At first I thought this was the break pads going out, but that's only because I was only listening when I broke (braked? Brizzneaked?); it just gets louder then. There's a CD player in it, but man I was spoiled by the Sirius last time.
I may have to trash it.
So the room has a full kitchen, that's better as I don't really want to eat out alone for 2 weeks straight; that will get real old. I suspect I'll just hole up like last time and go slowly insane. It's what I do best really. I should just accept my "DESCENT... INTO MADNESS!"
I'll let you all know how it goes. (I say that, but really, we all know I'll just show up with a rambly diary or two and disappear again. I'm doing my little death thing. Petit Mort.)
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