6:44 AM – Halifax International Airport
After hugging my father goodbye, I’d headed for the bar; little did I know he’d waited and watched.
The bar is closed; the bar is fucking closed!
A grander travesty and injustice, at this very instant, I cannot fathom.
I turned around as he laughed, “You can’t be doing that shit while you’re flying.”
“How else would one fly?” I thought.
In reality – I’m escaping the monotony of familiar human interaction; the mundane, day-to-day grind of a former risk-taker and current technical support person for a small technology company. I want to be temporarily invisible; lacking schedules and responsibilities. It’s really the first international non-work-related trip I’ve taken as an adult.
Well deserved, I dare say.
The truth of my destination; the reality of it; is one of debauchery and manufactured privilege.
Middle-class debutants travelling to all-inclusive Caribbean resorts in search of bottomless bar tabs; cheap women; or tans. Some for one; some for two; a few for all three.
What about me?
None of the above.
I’m seeking only anonymity. The rare gift of walking as a ghost is priceless and timeless. To be a peaceful shadow weaving oneself into the personal legend of another soul is the work of the Universe.
Many of the people that travel to these resorts appear to me as uneducated and uncultured; no comprehension or care for the cultural depth that lies beyond the walls of their all inclusive Arcadian fortresses.
To the sun with these swine; the whole lot of them.