Once Again for the First Time...
So you're trudging (slogging, plodding) through Charlotte International's Terminal C and you turn your head slightly and whoops...
It's the Tequileria! Not fatal in viewing until you remember that last Friday at 3:30pm (you know this because you still have the receipt) you were there, hunched over some kind of modified Latino hamburger, stuck inbetween Lexington, KY and Providence, RI. Then you walked to your gate and flew 683 miles.
And yet here we all are again 72 hours and 1366 miles later, in the same damn place, stuck between Providence, RI and Memphis, TN pondering a hamburger reunion (just for old times' sake!). You somewhat expect to find yourself at the bar, still eating that mutated Mexican burger. It's the lack of time and the excess of distances that puts you in these odd moods. Why leave this stopover when I'll be back here again as another stopover?
It's the quitter's point of view, the pitiful plead of those that get bored with the routine, whatever the routine might be.
But the travel brings you those odd moments as well. When you find yourself wandering through someone else's personal history. Driving down their streets, staring at the same landmarks, years removed and miles away. To put it all plain like...
IM IN UR SkOOLS, INSTALLIN MAH FILTHY PRINTR!!!11
It's the Tequileria! Not fatal in viewing until you remember that last Friday at 3:30pm (you know this because you still have the receipt) you were there, hunched over some kind of modified Latino hamburger, stuck inbetween Lexington, KY and Providence, RI. Then you walked to your gate and flew 683 miles.
And yet here we all are again 72 hours and 1366 miles later, in the same damn place, stuck between Providence, RI and Memphis, TN pondering a hamburger reunion (just for old times' sake!). You somewhat expect to find yourself at the bar, still eating that mutated Mexican burger. It's the lack of time and the excess of distances that puts you in these odd moods. Why leave this stopover when I'll be back here again as another stopover?
It's the quitter's point of view, the pitiful plead of those that get bored with the routine, whatever the routine might be.
But the travel brings you those odd moments as well. When you find yourself wandering through someone else's personal history. Driving down their streets, staring at the same landmarks, years removed and miles away. To put it all plain like...
IM IN UR SkOOLS, INSTALLIN MAH FILTHY PRINTR!!!11