Here I am, at the end of an epic month, sipping from a bloody mary at the "Cascade's" in the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport... The effects of the vodka from the first drink are setting in, warming my spine and calming my nerves, sliding me into the inevitability of sitting in a metal tube for 12 and then 2 hours whilst breathing in the farts of a good 300 people. Yum. Airline poo-air.
Cohen brought me to the airport, resplendent in a large red shirt that is already too-baggy on his rapidly-shrinking frame: 80 pounds down and more to go. The man has a plan and is exectuting it - well on him. It's a PERFECT northwest summer day - a bright blue blanket of sky with the sun showering the top of Mt. Rainier. No doubt folks are packing up, heading to beaches and mountains and forests to enjoy the best of what this part of the world has to offer; I instead must leave, and head back to the pseudo-tropical environs of Korea in the last grips of the rainy season.
Last night I performed in the Theatresports show, which went well despite a rocky first scene. A lot of my old colleagues/friends came out and we had a hell of a time being very silly in front of a hundred or so odd paying audience members. Not half bad. I caught up with a friend I haven't seen for over six years, and another who always makes it out when I touch the ground in these here parts. We shared a few drinks afterwards at the theater bar, swapped stories and threw out names followed by: "What is he/she up to these days..."
The airport is swamped with people, a Saturday travel day in the middle of summer. I found out that these days, in American, you generally aren't actually allowed to be checked in by a an actual flesh and blood being; a machine has taken over the gig. You still have to drop off your bags at a place manned by hapless airline employees (oh how I don't envy them - the abuse they must endure daily), but the digital age has extended its tendrils into the heart of the airport. Why not, I guess, with the volume of human beings being herded into the air daily.
But flight is a miracle, it's still amazing, even after the (I lost count long ago) _th time I've boarded a plane. Like Louis CK says: "You are in a chair, in the SKY." Incredible, really. Let us not forget this.
With that I'll take the final sip of the salty tomato goodness and saunter into the tube, take my place in the cramped little seat, remove my shoes, sigh and open a book to read for a spell. Before long I'll be roaring over the Pacific, then in Japan, and finally, after a short jaunt, back in the company of cats and arms of my girl in the strange old port town that I call home.
Cohen brought me to the airport, resplendent in a large red shirt that is already too-baggy on his rapidly-shrinking frame: 80 pounds down and more to go. The man has a plan and is exectuting it - well on him. It's a PERFECT northwest summer day - a bright blue blanket of sky with the sun showering the top of Mt. Rainier. No doubt folks are packing up, heading to beaches and mountains and forests to enjoy the best of what this part of the world has to offer; I instead must leave, and head back to the pseudo-tropical environs of Korea in the last grips of the rainy season.
Last night I performed in the Theatresports show, which went well despite a rocky first scene. A lot of my old colleagues/friends came out and we had a hell of a time being very silly in front of a hundred or so odd paying audience members. Not half bad. I caught up with a friend I haven't seen for over six years, and another who always makes it out when I touch the ground in these here parts. We shared a few drinks afterwards at the theater bar, swapped stories and threw out names followed by: "What is he/she up to these days..."
The airport is swamped with people, a Saturday travel day in the middle of summer. I found out that these days, in American, you generally aren't actually allowed to be checked in by a an actual flesh and blood being; a machine has taken over the gig. You still have to drop off your bags at a place manned by hapless airline employees (oh how I don't envy them - the abuse they must endure daily), but the digital age has extended its tendrils into the heart of the airport. Why not, I guess, with the volume of human beings being herded into the air daily.
But flight is a miracle, it's still amazing, even after the (I lost count long ago) _th time I've boarded a plane. Like Louis CK says: "You are in a chair, in the SKY." Incredible, really. Let us not forget this.
With that I'll take the final sip of the salty tomato goodness and saunter into the tube, take my place in the cramped little seat, remove my shoes, sigh and open a book to read for a spell. Before long I'll be roaring over the Pacific, then in Japan, and finally, after a short jaunt, back in the company of cats and arms of my girl in the strange old port town that I call home.
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