On New Year’s Day, driving from Park City to Salt Lake, we saw a young woman on the side of the road, puking away the merriment from the night before.
At the airport, saw a man complaining to an employee that the kiosk for getting boarding passes was too long. There was only one person in front of him.
At security checkpoint, saw a young woman puking into one of those gray bins travelers use to put their accessories into.
On the plane, a child kept yelling, yes, yelling, BLOP. BLOP. BLOP. He had a nice rhythm going. He’d yell, BLOP. Then pause a beat, then yell BLOP again. All his mother could say was, “Shhhh, sweetie.” And her rhythm was not as consistent as his. The kid kept this up the entire trip. I overhead one woman say, “I wish she’d shut that motherf*&^#r up. Wait a second, that woman was me.
Of course, none of this matters because in Southeast Asia, over 120,000 people are dead and the survivors have lost everything.
Happy New Year.
