I arrive in Prague at 11 a.m on Saturday, having left Philadelphia at 5:45 the evening before. I can’t sleep on flights, so by the time I arrive home an hour later, after about 18 hours in transit, I am shaky as a character in a Burroughs story. I think there’s a dragon following me too.
Even if I were one to sleep on flights, the circumstances were against me. I couldn’t get comfortable temperature or position-wise. There were three – count ’em, three – babies in my section, and they offered constant, shrill, vocal reminders of their unhappiness. In counterpoint, and in different tones. Nobody in my section didn’t despise babies for at least 12 hours after landing.
Normally I would retreat to the solace of light comedies, but the audio wasn’t working. I was lucky in that the seat next to me was free, so I timed my chosen program on each computer and synced the soundtrack. By the time we were over the Atlantic, my proficiency was such that I could get a new job. But there’s nothing that fully keeps out baby.
Add to all of this the beginning symptoms of a head and chest cold, and you’ve got yourself one uncomfortable and exhausted hombre.
Nevertheless, I am home.
Fast forward past the 80 minute hallucination-peppered nap (damn dragon), through the realization that my toilet isn’t working, through the other realization that since my insides are as packed tight as concrete no toilet doesn’t matter. Past the cat who celebrates my arrival by shitting on the floor (ironically) and covering me in a stringy layer of hair. Past immediately dealing with bills and rent.
Fast forward right to my local pub.
I arrive at my local to meet a (human) friend and two liquid ones. It is a ritual to make myself stay awake until a reasonable bed time and then beg the sleep deities to allow me to sleep til daytime.
I hate leaving my family at the end of the summer, but there is nothing as good as getting home after a long trip. When you can unpack your bags, make your bed, and fill your fridge. Even if the aggravations, realities, and responsibilities of real life come tumbling in on you, at least you’re dealing with them at home.
I hold up OK this evening, all things considered. I keep my eyes open for quite a while and say only a few completely inane nonsensical things. I see a few dragons. Upon returning to the flat, I knock a drink over into my computer (writing this on my tablet), which is good because the one email I managed to shoot off beforehand reads like Pink Floyd lyrics minus the spellcheck.
I’ll worry about it all tomorrow, after sleep, unpacking, buying food, feeding the cat, and slaying that damn dragon.