This was my original brain blast show up in my head and write it quick post that popped brilliant when I decided it was time to jet West:
I know it’s a country/city comparison, but who cares. I’m speaking in terms of where I am and where I’m going to be, population size is but a detail:
Thailand – You can be close friends with someone for years before you find out they have two kids.
Detroit – The guy standing behind you in line at White Castle will tell you about is ex-wife’s nipple piercings.
Windsor, Ontario, Canada, my final destination is a more subtle version of the latter.
I’m looking forward to dipping in for awhile.
Post writing the above, I went searching for plane tickets. I then realized it was actually cheaper to land in Los Angeles, hang out with my big brodder in the semi near vicinity, then head out to Detroit. So tickets are booked.
Plane lands within the week in LAX.
What am I going to do? Nothing is one hundred percent right now, other than finding myself a salad. I almost don’t care what type it is, as long as it’s dark, leafy and there’s no mayonaise in it. Or corn.
I also suspect I may have some decompression, aka what am I doing around so many Caucasians under the age of sixty back to North America weirdness.
Either way, here’s what will be sounding off in my head as I disembark from the plane and inhale that California air jet fuel cocktail.
Read the next memoir, Re-Entry Shock- Feeling Like A Foreigner In Your Native Country, here.
Read the previous memoir, Blackmail And The Illusion Of Sex, here.
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