August 12th, 2011

monkey pirate

Trip to Denver

Yesterday, I got up at the crack of dawn, flew to Denver from Los Angeles, attended meetings all day, and flew back. In time for supper.

Shit. This really is the 21st Century. I FLEW THROUGH THE SKY halfway across the continent, then turned around and came home in the same day!

So that part was amazing. However, everything about the process was a gruelling test of Kafka-esque endurance. Arriving at LAX, I discovered the security check extended out of the terminal, across the footbridge and into the parking lot. Why did they put the security check so close to the door? Why is there just one? It's insane.

Then, packed into the flight - lemmings in shiny metal boxes (Oh, 80's era Sting and the Police, you were such prophets!) in a very crowded flight full of people deeply reluctant to just sit the fuck down and relax. When finally they did, apparently their sphincters relaxed, too - because my two hour flight was accompanied by non-stop fart smell. It was a briny, pungent fart, faintly redolent of prunes, which makes me think it was the old lady in the aisle ahead of me. And seriously, what do you do when it just won't clear? First of all the air in the plane is trapped, it's not like there's a mountain breeze blowing through. But even though the recycler did it's best, there was a constant renewing, like one of those timed air-fresheners that squirts "citrus daywank" into the air every two minutes. Except in this case it was farts. So what do I do? If I breathe through my nose, I smell it. But if I breathe through my mouth...I taste it. I taste someone else's fecal matter, in my mouth.

When I finally escaped the Flying Chamber of Farts, I got packed onto a bus to the rental car place. It was jammed. And what happened, as soon as the door starts? A whole new round of non-stop farts. What the FUCK, man? These ones were different, heavier, beefier and with a faint air of peat about them. Still on a sine-wave of gaggingly-strong to faintly-disgusting. And that bus trip wasn't short, either.

The return trip was more of the same - with the added bonus of 12 hours of fatigue on top, and the fact that I didn't even get a chance to eat anything until 4pm, or use a bathroom. Seriously, it was an endurance test.

But hey! I flew so far and came back that pioneers used to starve to death trying that stuff. Of course, that hungry, they probably didn't fart much. So...bright side.
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