Ever notice how ghosts are just hosts with a G? I’m gonna guess you haven’t.
My jet has a name. It is Daniela. Really. It’s written in big letters on the side of the plane.
I just read online that Michelle Bachman says we are looking at a spiritual hurricane. I can get that. Said no reasonable person ever. But in my current state, and for the 1st time ever I’ll give her some slack. OMG. What if I come back a conservative!
I love the uniforms the pilots and flight attendants wear in Mexico. So sixties. Great hats. They take the hats off during flight.
I’m the only gringo on the plane. I’m not even going to understand the safety talk. I wonder if I look like a gringo. I bet I could pass for Mexican if I could speak and understand the language. But that’s not gonna happen.
Pretty sure the male flight attendants are gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Fell asleep just as the plane took off. Looks like I slept for maybe 30 minutes. Only 4 more hours until my 5 hour layover in Guadalajara. Still not feeling in the spiritual groove.
I bought myself a Fresca at the airport. I haven’t seen one of those in many, maybe 30, years or more. Uh oh, here comes the flight attendant with the drink cart. What do I say? No thanks, I have a Fresca.
Look at it this way, no matter what happens with this psychic surgery, at least I’ll be answering the question for all of us. Imagine if it works. You will all be heading for Mexico City soon. You might want to wait to book your flight.
I’m gonna say nada, gracious. See if I can pass for Mexican. Damn. I said nada, thank you. I don’t think she bought it. I think they know now. Yep my cover is officially blown. She came back and asked me a question in Spanish and I answered with “huh?”
Keeping this journal is more fun than traveling with someone. No one but me to tell me how idiotic I am. Well, looking around it appears maybe more people than I are having that thought. At least they are thinking it in Spanish so I don’t understand.
The farthest south I’ve ever been is the Caribbean. Not sure if Mexico City is further(or is it farther) south.
It’s kind of disturbing to actually be aware of the thoughts I’m having. I wonder if they would be the same if I wasn’t writing them down.
Yep. They are the same. I’m funnier than I realized. Probably not as funny as I think though.
Here’s what I know about the process I’m embarking on. Tomorrow I go for a consultation. Then I rest, diet and drink herbal tea for a day. Thursday I come back for the “procedure”. Here’s an article I found online: http://www.realitysandwich.com/magic_act
Then I rest for 4 days, dieting and drinking herbal teas. I fly back home next Tuesday. After that I’m not supposed to drink, have sex or drive for 40 days. How in the hell am I not going to drive for that long!!!!
This is exactly who I’m going to see. Hermanito Cuauhtemoc. Most of the article is about his mother, Pachito. She died and Hermanito now runs the family operation. Convenient that he was able to start channeling the same entity. I’m still not too sure about this. We always joke that I need a spine transplant. Now I’m getting one. Hot damn.
There’s a little kid on the plane crying in Spanish. He’s having a Mexican meltdown. Annoying in any language.
Speaking of idiots. If you’ve read this far and you think I am one for going on this trip then you just don’t appreciate my desperation. It’s no fun going through life with this amount of chronic pain and without being able to do so many of the things I love. I miss skating and being able to play hockey with my son the most. I would give just about anything to get that back. So this trip may be quixotic and far fetched. But as i said, I would do just about anything. Desperate, hopeful. I’m not expecting much, but I’m pretty sure there’s an actual scalpel with my name on it somewhere north of the border. So I’ll give it a shot.
Sometimes I feel semi-normal. Then I catch my reflection in the glass or someone I know will happily let me know how stiff and in pain I look. Thanks for letting me know. I had no idea. I’m not happy about this aging thing. I think of myself as the hockey jock I was in college, then I move and I am reminded I’m no longer that.
Just two more hours to Guadalajara. I may have miscalculated. It looks like Guadalajara is at least one time zone ahead. Maybe two. Either that or we are crashing.
Well we didn’t crash. Not sure what happened but I landed 2 hours earlier than I thought. So now it’s a 7 hour layover.
I found my way to the American Express Centurion Club. Nice. A little VIP action. Free wifi. I’m camping out here for the time being.