It's 1:52 am. I suppose you could call it Wednesday morning, but really it's Thursday night.
Expedia, Priceline, Travelocity, cheaptickets, and a few more obscure sites have all refused to sell me plane tickets for the hundredth time tonight. I decide to let it go for now. My brain refuses to embrace the sweet land of counterpane. Outside the snow or rain or slush is drip dropping on the frozen yard.
Some kind of woodland animal snaps twigs as it passes by in the dark. I think of big foot. Through the stucco, insulation, floorboards and carpet comes a low rumble. Bubba and The Beast in their crate, joined in a chorus of snores that could make a drunken lumberjack sound like the wings of a humming bird. To me, it's the sound of waves on the beach, the wind in the trees, the ambient rhythmic tone that slowly rumbles "all is well."
My parents are finally back in the US. Thanks to a few hardworking people. No thanks to many others. The real story is always more dramatic than the official story. For now we bide our time and decide what to say and to whom. I feel like burning something down. But I'm also very tired. The older you get, the less point you see in making a point.
For now, I try and peel my mind off the maddening, unavoidable injustice and incompetence which thrives in this world. I allow myself a frivolous daydream. For just a second or two I'm standing with a gas powered Armalite AR50 semi automatic, surrounded by endless oceans of customer service call banks. Rows upon rows of operators chuckle at youtube, paint finger nails, gossip together. While helpless victims sit on hold and watch the minute counter hit - 14:06 - 28:53 - 1:36:58. Praying that some day someone anyone might pick up the line and fix their computer, confirm their purchase, refund their money, find their lost family members.
Before I chamber a round and draw a bead I remind myself that we are all part of this horrific and beautiful humanity. Take a breath. Forgive the crushing incompetence. Remember that their only crime is not giving a shit. I held a world record in that event for the first two years of my collegiate career.
I let the vision go. It's uncomfortably enjoyable and at the same time packed with the gritty, unpleasant reality of my own dark nuggety filling. Like a great peanut butter and jelly sandwich that got just a little bit of sand on it.
My mind wanders when i haven't slept a full night in days or weeks. I should try and sleep again. I'm full of much happier thoughts when I'm rested. Hopefully tomorrow Korea Airlines will feel like completing a transaction and actually selling me some tickets so that my parents won't miss their vacation.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Now that it's 2:45am I suppose it's officially the day on which The Wife and I will begin our long awaited journey. After packing dogs and provisions, we'll start the first leg of our trip
Leg 1: Wednesday, March 2nd, 2011: Washington to Oregon.
We plan to have dinner with some pregnant cousins, buy a sawed off shotgun (on sale in the interest of diaperfunds) spend the night in Portland and then start early on Thursday morning. Hit Interstate 5 hard and fast and long till it doesn't know which way is up and ride till the wheels come off.
If by some insane stroke of providence, our recent run of misfortune has ended and we find that all goes according to plan, we should be in Hollyweird by Saturday.
I guess this means Triton Cove is officially a travel blog.