Last night the lights on the boat are turned down low, perhaps in an effort to get all their guests to go to bed early. The bars close early, and there’s nothing but an Indian boy walking around sneaking up on people and then declaring “I’ve got plenty of BOOOOOZE on my cart!!!” It was a little odd. Sat and drank with Mick and Caroline for a while. Sat and played guitar for a while, but it’s COLD.
The next morning, shuffling out into the dawn grey of San Diego, a tiny child with an Australian accent points and says “He was the one played the geeetar!”
I’m surrounded by grey and bullet-headed birds. It’s Friday the 13th, a full moon, and we’re flying home.
When we finally depart San Diego, I’m really, really ready to leave. I’m glad to grab the emergency aisle, stretch out, and promptly get a HUGE man sitting next to me and I’m squashed to the side of the seat. It’s going to be a long, long flight.
It’s not so much that I hate flying as I hate airplanes. Not neccessarily with any sort of passion – just with the realization that there simply aren’t many modes of transportation that are less fucking comfortable than these tiny little chairs, filled with elbows and other people’s diseases. That’s a real reason to travel as a couple. Sheesh – if nothing else, it gives you someone to lean on and an elbow that you’re not afraid to touch.
Even… to caress… mmmmm… elbow.
BWI is cold, but not as wet as San Diego. Everyone is foul-tempered and getting the car is an excercise in patience. I position myself at the base of where luggage is being spit out onto the conveyer – unlike other places, this comes out on a ramp that lands things pretty hard – and I catch my guitar midair to the applause of observers. I retreat after that, and then my mom makes a comment that makes me feel like she thinks I’m a bad rob for not sitting there to catch HER luggage midair.
Her shit’s HEAVY!
My mom has to square away her immense group before we can leave, and though we’d only gotten in an hour late, it’s another two hours before we depart.
“Home” again home again. I get to spend two nights in a bed before we’re back on the road again. Smaller California and whatever misadventures await me there. Here I come.
