Thursday, April 13, 2006

Anything Can Be a Paperweight

"Act of God." Just writing it feels funny. I write that and I think of a plague of frogs or boils or immaculate conceptions of something. But when the Auckland airport is enshrouded in fog and planes can't take off and I get stuck in Cairns and I know that whenever I get to Auckland will be too late to make the connecting flight to San Francisco and I have to extend my travels for one more day, "act of God" doesn't quite cut it. "Act of Satan," maybe. Or possibly even "act of Zeus, the storm bringer," but I feel like "act of God" is just too archaic a term to account for the horrors of airport delays and compounded travel weariness.

You'd think getting an extra day of vacation would be a good thing. I would have thought so, too, but right now all I want is clean clothes, a decent shower, a clean bed and cup of fucking coffee without foam. Keep your flat whites, you miserable continent. Haven't you taken everything else from me?

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