Wow. It’s already 9:30 am. Where did the time go. For some strange reason I have Internet. Please god don’t let me find out I’m paying roaming charges. I hoping it’s wifi at the airport but I don’t appear to be on a network.
I should probably start acting like I’m on on a spiritual quest like in the middle of a Carlos Castaneda novel rather than a tourist but I’m not feeling it.
This is the first flight that I can remember that doesn’t involve me going to watch Max play hockey. I’d rather watch hockey. Unless of course this actually works. My kids are scratching their heads. I poo poo the dumb ghost hunter reality show they are so fascinated with. It’s about the stupidest thing on TV next to Snooki, the Kardashisns and my fav, Honey Boo Boo. I do not believe in haunted houses and ghosts. I crack up at how serious the hosts of the show are. And yet I’m willing to entertain the possibility that a shaman in Mexico City can be a medium for an “entity”(ghost?) of an ancient Aztec spirit and might be able to do something about my pain. Nah. I don’t believe that either. And yet here I am.
Boarding in 15 minutes. Going in to spiritual mode. I see Don Juan. See ya on the other side.