Marrying Up
“I’m still in a daze from almost fifteen hours of delays, layovers, weather warnings, rubbery chicken with asparagus, sleeplessness and a small nervous breakdown at thirty-six thousand feet, so the jumble of multicolored signage isn’t going over too well. Still, despite my physical and emotional fragility, I figure a celebratory drink is in order—not only am I on solid ground again, but this is my first time ever on the West Coast.
The real first day of the rest of my life. Finally.
Bleary-eyed ...and unable to locate alcohol in the immediate vicinity, I ditch the bar plan and shuffle toward the next best thing: food.
The moment the first bite hits my belly, I realize how famished I am. And with the food, the fog and monotony of the day begin to lift, replaced by that sort of hyperreality you usually only notice at times of either great stress or complete boredom. Moments of being and nonbeing, Virginia Woolf called them. At least, I think that’s what she called them, if I’m remembering my Modernism 101 class correctly.MoreLess
The real first day of the rest of my life. Finally.
Bleary-eyed ...and unable to locate alcohol in the immediate vicinity, I ditch the bar plan and shuffle toward the next best thing: food.
The moment the first bite hits my belly, I realize how famished I am. And with the food, the fog and monotony of the day begin to lift, replaced by that sort of hyperreality you usually only notice at times of either great stress or complete boredom. Moments of being and nonbeing, Virginia Woolf called them. At least, I think that’s what she called them, if I’m remembering my Modernism 101 class correctly.MoreLess
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