Dirty Travel Guide - or - How Not to Live Your Life.

It has been a long time. To be honest with you, I don't know where I have been. Time keeps going on by, but I don't know where it goes.. It is all a blur.

Sunday Funday. I do remember that. It was unintentional at best. Since I was flying out of Detroit Metro early on Monday, I figured it was appropriate to pay Mr. AZ a visit. This is not because I haven't seen him in a while. We enjoyed a tantalizing lunch at El Azteco a bit earlier in the day.

I haven't gotten to spend too much time with AZ since I have returned, sanz the wedding and wedding related festivities. So we had some catching up to do.

The scene was a little place called Malarky's in the Gate. The time was 7:30. The bar was empty, but gave off the ambiance that some shit could go down there when it was not empty. The waitresses were scantily clad at best. It didn't work for 90% of them. Oh well, I suppose it is a crap shoot. The burger was good. I ate slowly. AZ did his best EKG impression, polishing off the burger in an impressive fashion. We had some beers, joked with the lovely Lisa, placed bets on when cheezy songs originated, and listened to some awful karaoke renditions of even more cheezy songs. We taught the bartender the signals and the differences between the 30-second time out and the full time out. We also schooled her in the etiquitte of using these signals. AZ then attempted to Jessie Spano the evening, (I am not exactly sure what this means thinking back, It was hilarious at the time) by telling a ridiculous story about how since he was a little boy he wanted to mow lawns and had the dream of one day mowing the lawn at Tigers Stadium. He went on to explain that his current fake employment situation is allowing him to live out that dream. Brilliant. We certainly made a favorable impression. I was lucky, because I drank a slew of water as I drank. AZ didn't listen to me when I suggested he do the same.

I wanted to go ahead to Monday morning, but that would skip over half of AZ's body falling into a six foot hole, an afterhours search for keys, and the most epic and amusing voicemail ever going to the proud recipient, Emily.

I awoke on Monday at 4:25. I decided a shower wasn't in order. I washed my hair, because it looked stupid and slapped some deodorant on. I had my dress clothes all out, but realized I didn't need to wear them, since I would be able to freshen up at my hotel before my 2:00 appointment. I decided not to unpack my whole suitcase just to be comfortable on the plane. I made a last minute effort to find the missing keys. I was a failure. Off to the airport I went.

I don't think I was too stinky, but I was a little tired and there was some alcohol seeping from my pores. I sat at the airport and waited. They were going to bump me, since the flight was full. I could use a free ticket, so I waited longer. Finally two minutes before take off I was told they didn't need my seat. So I was the last person on the plane. Low and behold, someone was in my window seat. I had two choices. I could make a huge scene and take back my rightful ownership of the seat, or I could bite the bullet and sit in the middle seat. I looked at the girl who took my seat, and decided to take the middle seat.

Immediately, I regretted my decision not to shower and make myself presentable. Then I decided it didn't matter. She was hot. Even better than that, she smelled so so good. As I waivered in and out of naps, the smell tantalized my thoughts, but not too much.

Anyways, the moral of this long long story is that if you are on an airplane right after the person you love leaves you for another 7 months, you should not listen to certain Elliott Smith songs over and over. Doing so really fucks up your head.