{May 18, 2012}   MIA

Miami, not even in the City of Skin and already such a change, the airport itself is a hotbed of materialism and commercialism, a virtual Rodeo Drive or should I say Coconut Grove right here in the seashell flecked terminal streets. It’s 6:30am here, 3:30am PST meaning no one on Skype. I’ve already wandered about 2 miles of shops, bars, restaurants, even glowing club like lounges with disinterest. Too early for booze, too early to eat and definitely too early for neo-esque lounges.

This would be far more fun with a cohort but I always seem to end up in Miami alone, which isnt a negative when you’re outside of the runways, but within the airport walls it’s rather drab even with the blue haired (blue, like Katie Perry blue) 70 year old white man with a ponytail, yellow crocs and batik pants, not to mention the new fad of wearing your blow up neck pillow around your neck while walking the airport.

I had the misfortune to sit next to a nice looking man who hadn’t discovered deodorant on flight A. On flight B if I wasn’t in the Artic, it was Greenland, as I pulled every scrap of clothing I had on and then played tent with the blanket to look like a big red mountain of polyester strapped into a seat next to the large Russian man that played children’s games on his Blackberry all night. Yes, I did pull the blanket over my head and huddle into a fetal position in public. It was freezing. Flight C should hold a new wealth of wonders in 2 hours. I also have to admit to eating Doritos at 1am in the morning which are now fixed firmly to my thighs in anticipation of my bikini.

The sound system is on awfully loud at 7am.

I hope D shows up with the boat, I don’t have a phone and getting stranded in STT and having to catch the ferry to Tola is not high on my list of to-dos after the red eye. Pretty excited about lunch in STT and an island hop back to VG. Hopefully D will not hammer down per usual so I need to Hold on to my teeth and breasts for fear they may disengage from my body and become shark food.

Once I’m on VG the anxiety can start once people realize I’m home and wonder why I pulled a genie and disappeared 6 months ago without a single good bye. I have a 3 hour flight to formulate that response. It will be great to see the broad smiles and happy faces, get into my beater of a car, have a margarita at LDB, Pinot at Jumbies, sleeeeeeeeep, and see my friendly fish and turtle in front of the house. Might even hit the Rock for some piano bar and Dockside to see the locals play heated dominoes. I feel better already.

Wish someone would get up and get on Skype. Haven’t spoken to anyone since 4pm. My eyes are dry, I finished my book, and saving the magazines for flight C.

Some ingesting things I have learned sitting here:
Man catches 68lb striped bass caught in Arkansas. Largest freshwater fish caught in America.
Alexandria, VG buys the most romance novels in North America
Cambridge, Massachusetts most well read city
Worst of all rainy and windy here!

Bon voyage.

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et cetera
A Forgetful Traveler

Remembering the world one blog post at a time

Life after BPD

Life after Borderline Personality Disorder; making a life worth living through love, laughter, positivity and Dialectical Behaviour Therapy

Bi-polar parenting

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