Okay, everybody - put the kiddies to bed, 'cause this one sure as shit ain't gonna be Maggie-friendly....
Fuck Texas. Fuck. Texas. And fuck North fucking Carolina too. A few years back, on my way to China, the plane I was on out of JFK had some mechanical problems and they had to cancel the flight. It was a hassle, but the people at the desk re-booked every single person and we went on our way. Because people in New York know that they need to get shit done. You don't find any of that laissez-faire "You can fly out tomorrow" shit-kicker attitude in New York. People in North Carolina could stand to learn a few goddamn things from New Yorkers.
But I wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place if Texas wasn't a god-forsaken place where no one should live. Apparently dump-trucks of rain fall on the place daily during the summer and Texans are too fucking stupid to realize: "Hey, maybe we shouldn't live here." I'm not even kidding any more. We need to give Texas back to Mexico. It's what they want anyway.
Obviously, I'm not on my way yet to South America. My connecting flight to Dallas was cancelled due to weather. The plan as of now is to fly to Miami tomorrow afternoon and connect to Santiago to land at 6:30AM in time for my 8:30AM flight to Easter Island. There's not a whole lot of room for error, though. And I'd be lying if I said I was feeling overwhelmingly positive about this going off without a snag. I suppose some might consider this karmic payback for my crack about "gloat[ing]" in my previous post. But I, for one, feel I am to be commended; I toned the smugness down quite a bit. I didn't even mention "the littles" like I did in my first draft.
For the immediate future, my options are limited. And I'm not even thinking far enough ahead to consider how to kill the day tomorrow. I've already checked with Emma and Daby, and apparently Raleigh is too far from the Outer Banks for them to come pick me up so I can hang with them for the evening. Who knew? I mean - they're both in the same goddamn state, right? Seemed reasonable to me.... Anyway, my options for a glorious evening in bum-fuck North Carolina seem to be:
A/ Remain here in this too-small-for-two-people "business center" at the Days Inn with my new douchebag friend right next to me talking and laughing to himself and surf the internet on this slow-ass probably dial-up podunk bullshit connection.
B/ Hit the Waffle House next door and then watch some TV and hit the sack.
C/ Go get drunk at Hooters.
I wish I was joking. I think I'm gonna go to Hooters. Perfect. I'm the best seventeen-year-old ever.
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