so…
in a nutshell…
the bastard just suffered through what may possibly be the worst airport shit show he has ever endured and I've endured some awful shit.
once after a five day bender in 2006, I was lying on the floor of mccaren airport feeling sunburned from drinking several red bulls at a bottle service club because there was nothing else to hydrate with…
another time, the wife and I were bopped all over the west palm airport due to a storm north of us…
in paris, with the nice lady, a snow storm in New York kept us well delayed on New Year's Eve but, the road manager for the goo goo dolls had goat cheese and we had a baguette so we had ourselves an exchange…
just last weak after a five and a half hour delay, the bastard finally got the boy underway and on his way home only to be texted from the plane that the luggage wasn't in the plane yet…
but this morning I had it sorted…
got up on time…
the car showed up…
and then, the crush.
the goddam bag drop off line was out the door…
I waited on line to almost 90 minutes just for the pleasure loading my own bag onto the conveyor belt…
airport security clearly hadn't had it's second cup of coffee, so I was ready to crawl out of my skin by the time I got to my gate.
only thing the bastard had for breakfast was shit show served in a fucking roll.
so I had to hit up the flying bar for the kids snackey cake box for 6 bucks. no one needs to be having Nutella and breadsticks only to chug it down with apple sauce in a bag and whiskey.
so wracked from this awful experience…
I began to think about the end of all things and where I'd like to be disposed of when that day arrives.
well… I was watching an ncis marathon and thinking about this.
I like to be cremated I think and I would like my ashes scattered around the grianan of aileach somewhere in donegal
the last time I was there the wind blew hard on my face and I thought about grandpa…
and it was the last time I remember feeling at peace with myself.
and now I'm going to get back to my regularly scheduled nightmare which will be brought to us by the letter 'H' and sponsored by a shit ton of coffee.
look it up on a map kids or in the rick Steve's book about Ireland…
and make sure my remains get there…
thanks for playing.
—the bastard
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