Note: Proper use of tense be damned in this blog.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!
Those were my very sophisticated first thoughts this morning.
The alarm on my phone failed to sound--or rather I set it incorrectly--and I fumbled through the dark calling a Lyft as fast as one can wth a hangover the size of Manhattan. As someone that is perpetually punctual, arriving at the gate as the last passanger boarding was a first for me. I was THAT guy.
Comically mundane life achievment: check!
Fly. Sleep. Land. Head straight to my favorite coffee joint in San Francisco. Eat a burrito. Visit my old work. Meet Kimi for breakfast. Ride to Golden Gate Park. Lay on the grass and laugh about life.
Twelve hour layover aside, time is of the essence!
"This is nice," I said, thinking of Vonnegut’s advice while Kimi and I admired the blue sky and warmth.
"It's strange how we become too tired to relax," we attempt to say together, but in much more words about work, hobbies, and aging.
Cue Richard and Natalie and conversations about adventure. Cue Emily and conversations about novelty. Cue Ashlynn and conversations about inspiration. Tie everything together with a bow of serendipty and you’ll find the theme of the day. (That sentence is far more vague than I prefer, in the way that shitty poems veil their shittiness with flowery langauge and vague eupemisms. Oh well.)
And now I’m sitting at the airport feeling like a rockstar. Not a bad way to kick off a trip to Paris, ya know?