Ectal 1: Brownsville Turnaround on the Tex-Mex Border

Western Algarve, Prij, 2008

I meant to upload a holding page for the following posts if perchance you thought I was finished with the blog. I'm hoping to use these two weeks to work through my draft backlog - in particular a few short stories and the long overdue finalé of the old site.

Something is very uneventful about this holiday; the yearly flight, the usual destinations - such is travel once Gordo Cooper went higher and farther than any other. Faced with such humdrumity (surely a better pre-existing word for that) it's no wonder I haven't posted since April beyond little observations under my minimal 500 words quotient.

Anyway, once again airport security managed to top their ability to piss me off. Having already removed my belt in-case I tried to use it in some offensive fashion - as opposed to hanging myself - I forgot to remove my iPod. Since I never set the scanner off, I walked through rather assured. With my hand reaching into my pocket as I rapidly approached a staff member, it struck me that I was lucky not to be shot on site by the Jeep-keeper-awayers. Identifying the metallic object wasn't enough, because I obviously planted it there to divert attention from the metal bomb in my shoes. Which I had to fucking remove. I'm getting increasingly irritated, making escalating comments likely to have me detained, but trying to reign myself in before I do so. Next time I'll try to waste as much time as possible.

Now that we're out of the clouds (ie the UK), it's time to get the camera out...


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