Sorry Sarah

Out of respect to D-Mo's special lady friend down in Oz, I'm gonna go ahead and clarify which of the events in my last post did not happen. The story about our cave adventure was a complete fabrication. Just kidding. No, we did not participate in the ping pong exhibition at the world famous SuperPussy in Bangkok, even though Frodini did swear on a certain matriarch's anal virginity that he would. So, glad we got that cleared up. We were good boys, for the most part.

So Long Carlos *sniff whimper*

Today I bid a fond farewell to my travelling companion of the past couple months, D-Mo, amidst a fitting torrential downpour in Bangkok. Hard to believe he was here for two months! Seems like just yesterday we were sharing a bedsheet back at my home in Surat Thani. In that time, we grueled it out together in a parched Surat; scaled the ancient steps of Angkor Wat; shared equally painful dental experiences (well, his was probably much worse, though mine is a work in progress); made equally embarrassing mistakes at several bars, harems, brothels, and other establishments of ill-fame; lolled in psychadelic-bliss on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world (maybe only one of us was induced); played ping-pong at SuperPussy in Bangkok; faced our inner and outer most demons in a subterranean nightmarish spelunk; serenaded the streets of Chiang Mai with a little water and a whole lotta handsome beard in the belly of a Burmese Army Jeep; and generally had an internationally awesome good time. Ok, a couple of those things were a little embellished, but I'll let y'all use your imaginations as to which. Needless to say, I'm a little misty-eyed to see my Colombian and newly-Castro-bearded friend leave, but I happen to think I'll see him again a lot sooner than expected. But I'll let him break that news to you on his own time. Take care, Carlos. We did good.

The Brevity Thing

In the vein of the Twitter boom, I think I'm going to start leaving much shorter posts with more frequency. I still have a few big stories to tell, but there's a lot of little happenings that are falling through the cracks. For instance, right now I'm really worried about my bottom left wisdom tooth. It's rearing its unwelcome head in such a manner that the gum surrounding it has been mangled to the point where there's a flap of flesh dangling in a very annoying and inconvenient fashion, interfering with all kinds of chewing. And my jaw is kinda sore from all the tooth movement. I just arrived in Bangkok this morning, so I might take a visit to the dentist to check it out, but knowing me, probably not (don't tell mom, sis). I only have about 3 1/2 more months left, so I'm hoping I can just ride it out.

So yeah, a couple of days in BKK, meeting back up with D-Mo, and then back to Surat for the home stretch. A month of sight-seeing and debauchery is enough and starting to wear on the soul. I can't wait to get back to work!

Songkran! or How To Get Water Into Every Orifice

Even if you've never been apart of New Years Eve in a big city, or a huge festive citywide celebration like, say, Mardi Gras, you've probably seen pictures or heard friends' stories of debaucherized revelry that would make Dionysus himself proud. So, imagine a scene like that, people swarming the streets, traffic backed up for miles down every street, music blasting, booze flowing, laughter and smiles abound. Now, imagine that scene taking place in a country whose national countenance, for the most part, could be called reserved or diffident at best. Now, imagine experiencing this festive scene from the cockpit of a 1969 Burmese Army Jeep, right-side steering wheel, left-side gear-stick, customized stereo system, no windshield, and all kinds of personality. Now, imagine this 3 DAY!! holiday scene with buckets upon buckets upon water-guns upon bottles upon hoses upon buckets of water coming at you non-stop from every which way, with every man, woman, child, monk, police-officer a fair target (no one is safe!), and you've just imagined my new favorite holiday: Songkran, the Thai New Year. If there's one thing I bring home from this trip, it will be the water-throwing ways of this crazy-ass holiday. America was made for this shit, what with our love of giant water-parks and slip-and-slides, and July 4th seems like the perfect holiday to add aquatic silliness into the mix. So, next 4th of July, if you get a bucket of ice-cold water down your previously dry backside, it's all out of love!

Scott and Dave in a Cave!

Although the Ginny Springs-like Vang Vieng is known for it's river tubing and happy mushroom shakes, it's the panoramic view of huge, dollopy limestone mountains, like giant green, jungle-covered gumdrops, overlooking a wide open Mekong river valley that you'll remember of this place. The town is full of falang (Laos' version of farang) -catering bars showing endless episodes of Friends, Family Guy, and the Simpsons. But once you get past these annoying reminders of home, the country-side offers a breath-stealing landscape riddled with caves and cool mountain springs. It was one such cave that Modini and I almost didn't make it out of. We came upon this obscure cavern by chance, biking up a pebbly country-road on ill-equipped beach cruisers, following a jankity old sign that advertised the cave, a large Buddha statue and "a great adventure, and pointed to China. After an hour of bone-jarring bike-pedaling, we found the cave situated in a tangle of forest just off the rocky road. There was a small lean-to hut tucked into the thicket surrounding the cave’s entrance, where a woman and her two children were whiling away the day. It didn’t seem likely that they would be out here in the middle of the jungle, several kilometers away from town waiting for visitors to happen by, but sure enough there was a hand-painted sign perched on a pole that read, “Cave Crossing 10,000 Kip.” The cave must’ve had an average of two visitors a week, and we had just filled their quota. We assumed the 10,000 kip just an entrance fee and happily gave the woman our money, but we soon found out that entrance to the cave was free and we had just purchased the company of her teenage son as our minimal English-speaking tour guide. He gave me his name, which I had difficulty making out, but it sounded similar to Haha, so that's what I'll call him. His initially unwelcome accompaniment turned out quite necessary, as we had neglected to bring flashlights.

The cave entrance was deceptively modest, appearing at first glance as just a shallow pocket in the side of a hill. I expected to wander a few meters into a cool shelter of stone, take a few snapshots of a weathered Buddha statue, and then move on down the road. However, much to the chagrin of my flip-flops, we soon found ourselves descending a very steep and slippery slope through a hole to Hades. Very early on in our spelunk, we realized that both of our flashlights were absolute crap, and would provide just enough light to show us the sides of a bottomless pit on our way down, or the low-hanging stalactite only after the damage was done; shit, the stars in my eyes after hitting my head on just such a stalactite provided more light. Our best bet was to stick as close to our pint-sized tour-guide as possible, who seemed to need no light at all. After only a few minutes of pitch-black stumbling, our fearless leader told me to stop, turned my torso towards what I imagined was a wall, and told me to take a picture. I eagerly did as I was told, suddenly remembering the flash on my camera and the spatial enlightenment it would bring. As the first flickering of my camera commenced, I became immediately aware of large phantasmic toes not a few feet in front of me, and the ghostly statue of Buddha, carved right out of the cave wall, was revealed. I have to admit that it startled the shit out of me, as you’ll notice in my pictures that in the first one I took I dropped the camera. Just imagine seeing absolute pitch blackness, then all of a sudden, “Whoop, there’s God!”

Now that we had seen the Statue, and had been without light for several minutes now, I presumed that our journey was close to an end. We would soon find out that there was much more cave to not-see. On and on the cave went, twisting and turning, or for all I knew we were walking around the same stalagmite over and over; it was that dark. Not until we reached the darkest recesses of this hole-way to Hell did Haha reveal to us his sense of humor. We were led to one side of the “path”, as Dave and I lifted the weak beams of our flashlights to a rocky shelf where dwelt some cave spiders. Amazed that Haha knew exactly where to look for these arachnids, I was about to ask him if they were poisonous when his true intention in showing us the little beasts came to deafening realization. Our backs to him, distracted by the spiders, Haha came up behind us and began pounding on a nearby stalactite with a large loose rock. The reverberating clang sounded as if he'd struck a cast-iron pot with fire-place poker. I felt like we’d just stepped under the Liberty Bell and my brain had cracked open. Then Haha haha’d and continued on his way, with us biting the dust. I couldn’t blame him for taking advantage of a couple falang, but neither could I blame myself for wanting to wring his little neck.


After a few more minutes of sightless groping, we came upon a narrow passageway that required us to shuffle along side-step at a forty-five degree angle. It was at this point that Dave turned to me and said, “I don’t know about you man, but I’m starting to reach my limit.” Despite Haha's hijinx, I was doing fine, having visited caves in New Mexico, Arizona, and the Appalachian States that required much more of me. I was just a little perturbed at the sorry state of our torches, and that the only signs of human passage were an ancient statue that we'd passed eons ago and one or two hand-painted arrows on the wall that seemed to be leading us to America. However, I could soon hear the cave-gods laughing up at us from their subterranean realm as if to say, “Fuck your limits, Dave.” After our forty-five degree dance, Haha was suddenly nowhere to be found. After a few seconds of blind panic, his voice returned to us from somewhere around our ankles, beckoning to us to get on our bellies and follow him through a hole that was just wide enough to admit our beer-buoyed bellies. In fact, if we weren’t lubed up in nerve-induced sweat, we might not have been able to squeeze through. But down we went, sliding inch by inch on a combination of perspiration, cave-mud, and a healthy fear of dark, enclosed places. Judging from D-Mo’s heavy breathing, he was having a rough time, and I was proud and shocked at every second he soldiered on, with just a few encouraging words from me. I can’t possibly convey how claustrophobic this tunnel would make even the most diehard agoraphobe feel, but let’s just say we were reenacting that movie The Descent, minus the pigment-lacking, flesh-eating mutants, of course. At one point, he would tell me later after the whole ordeal had ended, Dave just wanted to stop crawling and take a nap, exhausted with fear, hoping that in his slumber Haha and I would just drag him out to freedom. After what seemed like an hour, Haha’s now angelic voice told us we had to endure only one-minute more of this hellish scrape through the bowels of the Earth. I started to count the seconds, Dave picked up his pace, and sure enough, 57 seconds later, we were able to stand on our knees. Having felt like we’d just crawled through the entrails of Beelzebub himself, we collapsed on a couple of rocks, wiped the sweat and grime from our faces and clothes, and took a well-deserved breather. After a few seconds, I looked over at D-Mo and offered him a hearty guffaw which he still wasn’t in the mood to return. So, I gave him a minute’s peace and clambered back down to the hole to take a few snapshots of our would-be tomb. Can’t wait to show them to you, though they won’t do a bit of justice to what we actually went through.

Lovely Laos

Just a quick update on my whereabouts. If you were to tell me a year ago that I’d be visiting a Communist country, and that it would hold some of the most beautiful sights I would ever lay peepers on (and I ain’t just talking the landscape), and that that country wouldn’t be China or Vietnam, but a lesser known third world called Laos, I’d say, “Get the fuck outta here. What the fuck is a la-ow?” Alright, I’d heard of Laos, but only so much that its capital had a French sounding name, and that our government carpet-bombed the shit out of it in the late 60’s, and that it was wedged somewhere between Vietnam and the rest of Asia. But I tell ya, ever since I crossed that Friendship Bridge, from Nong Khai to Vientiane, and strolled down those tree-lined streets, and breathed that somewhat sweeter-smelling Laotian air, and wasn’t manhandled by the more laid-back Laotian lady-boys, I’ve got a new favorite special place.

Come to Laos! The old capital of Luong Prabang is the only place I’ve visited since I arrived in Bangkok over six months ago where I’ve seriously considered scrapping my current contract and starting over in a new location, but that’s just stupid-talk. Part of the tri-fecta of must-see cities along with Vientiane (for the history) and Vang Vieng (for the tubing and spelunking), Luong Prabang is a charming little town nestled at the bottom of the Nam Khan and Mekong river valley. The banks of the rivers and streets are peppered with frangipanis and scarlet-flowered trees, and the fragrance of coffee and spice permeates the air as you wander the handicraft and produce markets. Its outskirts are laced with caves and waterfalls, which I plan on checking out tomorrow, so can't wait to get back to y'all on those. It lacks the touristy turnoff of Vang Vieng, and the hustle and bustle of Vientiane. So far, possibly the most relaxing place I've ever had the privilege to visit.


As some of y’all have heard, I’ve run into a little hiccup involving my visa. Any time one of us English teachers plans on leaving Thailand, we’re required to pickup a reentry permit, so that our work permit isn’t dissolved and we have to apply for another one once we return. Well, I picked up the reentry permit once D-Mo and I left Thailand the first time; however we were forced to backtrack to Bangkok from Siem Reap for a small emergency, and upon returning I completely forgot to pick up a second reentry permit once we departed for Laos. Maybe I thought my first permit would still work, or maybe I just had a brain-fart and didn’t even think about it. Either way, I have much drama to look forward to once I fly into Chiang Mai and go through immigration this Friday. I expect my charming skills to be put to the ultimate test; I might even have to shave this bird’s nest of a beard I’ve acquired since school got out, and I was even thinking of showing the immigration official pictures of me and my kids, to show them that I’m really here for an admirable cause and not just to drink their beer and steal their women. So, everyone keep your fingers and toes crossed for ol’ Scooty Boot; otherwise, I might see you sooner then planned.

Thai Nuggets !!!

Thai people use straws for everything: bottled water, coffee, booze. Any conveniance store you convene in will give you at least four straws for any one beverage you purchase; they insist.


One American snack they have plenty of in T-land is Lay's Potato Chips and Pringles, both of which are dominating the SE Asian chip market. They love them shits over here. But the flavors are just a tad different. The only three we have in common are Original, Sour Cream & Onion, and BBQ, although BBQ is actually Mexican BBQ over here. From there the flavors just get freaky: Nori Seaweed, Spicy Seafood, Squid Chili Paste, Garlic and Soft-Shell Crab, and my personal fave Double Cheese Pork Burger. Doritos are almost considered a luxury; you can only find them in big cities or at the movie theatre.


Swimming is a funny business in Thailand. Thais aren't big on exposure for two reasons. They hate being tan, and they also believe it's disrespectul to show skin. So, when most Thais go swimming, they're usually covered head to foot, even at the beach. All women, Thai and farang alike, must wear a swim cap. It's kind of adorable.


Fashion is an equally funny business. While there are certainly some fashionably savvy people in Thailand, the two most popular clothing styles are Playboy and a line of garments with a marijuana motif. I've seen 5 and 6-year olds running around with huge pot-leafs gregariously gracing their t-shirts and the Playboy Bunny prominently displayed on their baseball caps. Also, the length of clothing Thais generally wear is fever-inducing. In the middle of debilitating heat, just a cartographical inch from the equator, these people walk around in jeans, long-sleeve flannels, and head-wraps to keep out the sun, and hardly a bead of sweat to be found.

They don't really use chop-sticks in Thailand, as you might expect, or maybe you don't. The only time I ever see Thais use chop-sticks is when they're eating noodle soup. Thais use a fork and a spoon for almost every meal; no knives. However, the fork is not used to spear your food; it replaces the knife, and is then used to scoop your food onto the spoon. Weird.

Now a little Laos nugget. Laotians lack a certain spatial awareness. It's pretty common to see a Laotian catching a nap on some stranger's shoulder during a long bus-ride, slumber-slobber and all.

sorry for the history lesson

Just a final thought on that last post, and the reason why I wanted to tell you about it in the first place. I remember sitting in a restaurant in Surat Thani watching the horrible events of Mumbai unfold on a television screen, when I struck up a conversation with a Thai woman sitting at the bar who looked particularly somber about the attack. I came to find out that she had some relatives living and working in Mumbai, and they were trying to get back home to Thailand but were unable to do so because of the PAD shutdowns of both BKK airports. India didn't have any other flights to Thai cities, though the Thai and Indian governments were trying to orchestrate something to fix this.

I then asked this woman, who I'll call Pui, what she thought about what was going on in her nation's capital, aside from the obvious effects it was having on her family.
"At first, I like what the PAD is trying to do. That they have the Royal Family's best interest in mind. But now that this business in India has been happening for three day's now, and they won't open up the airports to help their fellow Thais, it makes me feel as though they have only their best interests in mind." (This isn't verbatim, of course. I polished up the broken English for you)

Those were the same sentiments I was beginning to have. It was hard at first not to pull for a group that called themselves the People's Alliance for Democracy. But the more I found out about these people, the more I realized they were just a group with a large middle- and upper- class following that didn't have the power, and wanted to do so for mostly financial reasons.
"The thing that worries me the most is that they don't have a plan for government in case their mission succeeds," Pui told me.
This was clearly evident to most people, Thai and farang alike. The PAD knew who they wanted in the Prime Minister's office, but they had not told their countrymen how Thailand would be better off if their plans came to fruition.

After witnessing so much friction between the PPP and the PAD, what interests me most is how this country is going to survive once, Buddha forbid, the King is no longer with us (I mean, he's like 83 years old and has had some very recent health problems). I hope to all that is holy that such a thing does not come to pass during my stay in this country. I remember one week at school when every single normal routine came to a halt to honor the passing of the King's sister, and my school, Thidamaeprat, convened SOP a lot sooner than most schools and businesses, and this was only in honoring the sister's cremation (she had passed away a few months before my arrival). I truly believe this nation will be lost without their patriarchal figurehead. His son is widely regarded as an adulterating nimbus, and I'm not confident that the heads of state will allow his Queen or daughters to hold much sway in his absence, respected though they may be.

Sorry, I didn't mean to give anyone an international relations lecture, nor did I presume that anyone would really be interested. But I just wanted to let y'all know, because I hear about this shit every day, and it's so hard to relate to people who not only refuse to talk to me about it, but also refuse to try and better their country's future in the face of such imminent chaos.

Like I said, happier stories to follow, including scuba in Koh Tao and schooling in Surat.

Not All Smiles In The Land Of Smiles

So it’s time to talk about the political atmosphere here before it becomes irrelevant. I became aware of a certain level of strife in Thailand not before I had decided to teach English abroad, not before I had narrowed my destinations down to Thailand and Croatia, not while researching what to expect once I got to Thailand (beyond what I already knew of the border skirmishes near Malaysia and Cambodia), not when I talked to my friend Noland in the few weeks leading up to my departure and arrival. Through my ignorance, not until reading a copy of the The Nation upon boarding my fourth plane on the way to Chiang Mai did I become aware of the alleged corruption and subsequent upheaval emanating from and directed at seats of power in Thailand, respectively.

For those of you who don’t know, as I didn’t: Thailand’s government is a constitutional monarchy, meaning that the King is head of state (the world’s longest reigning monarch), a figurehead with very little direct power, but one that commands the undying love and respect of the whole nation. The Prime Minister is the head of government.

The front page of The Nation, Friday 25 September, 2008, announced that recently elected Prime Minister Somchai Wongsawat of the People’s Power Party would be appointing his cabinet positions that day, many of which were publicly criticized, not unexpectedly, by the Democratic Party and the PAD, the People’s Alliance for Democracy. The PAD, or the Yellow-Shirts (yellow being the official color of the King), are not a political party, but more of a highly-coordinated group of protesters, originally formed in 2006 specifically to speak out against former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, who was exiled amidst allegations of corruption, treason, authoritarianism, and above all else, lese majeste, which was the PAD’s chief concern with Thaksin and his proxies; that they were trying to undermine the power of the King himself. The group has the support of some highly respected members of the Democratic Party, including co-leader and media-mogul Sondhi Limthongkul. Sondhi opposed Somchai, who happens to be Thaksin’s brother-in-law, in the recent elections, which only took place because another former Prime Minister Samak Sundaravej, Thaksin’s replacement, resigned after being found guilty by the Constitutional Court for “conflict of interest” after he hosted a cooking show without the Court’s permission. A cooking show.

So that’s what I was flying into, unbeknownst to me until it was too late. Government House had been usurped months ago by the PAD, who were now using it as their own base of operations, forcing the new PM to hole up in a vacant VIP lounge in the middle of an undisclosed airport, from which the executive decisions of the country were now being handed down. Most of the drama was limited to Bangkok, so I wasn’t too worried about my trip being affected, as I was to be living several hundred miles north of the unrest. Little did I know.

Those of you that have already read one of my earlier posts on my first couple of days in CM know that my trip was indeed affected by the political protesting and the government’s lashing out in response, though somewhat indirectly (see Afternoon Uprising…). But the incident in the park only intrigued me further, and prompted me to begin asking questions; questions that made a lot of people very uncomfortable. Questions like, “Who did you vote for?” or “Who do you support, the PPP or PAD?” While a lot of the locals were very forthcoming when it came to talking about issues of sex, sexual orientation, drugs, money, or the current affairs of just about anywhere other than Thailand, they got down-right spooked when I asked for their perspective on what was going on down south, to the point where more than one person walked away from me in the middle of a conversation. I attributed this to the proximity these discussions had to the Royal Family, and understood people’s unwillingness to take sides when it was so unclear which side had the monarchy’s best interests in mind, or that the ruling PPP was popular in the north region of Thailand, of which Chiang Mai was a part. Granted, the PAD’s primary criticism of all three of the former PMs (Thaksin, Samak, and Somchai) and the ruling political party, the PPP, was that they were becoming dangerously insubordinate to the King, their actions resembling those of a presidency, and a president in effect would replace the monarchy, heretical even to think about. However, one had to keep in mind that the main voice behind the PAD, Sondhi, could be considered the Rupert Murdoch of Thailand; all the press about both the PAD and PPP, positive and negative, went through him like a sieve. I’m not even sure if the King himself knows how loyal the PAD actually is, or if he’s just being used as the Father of all political tools. Sondhi and his media conglomerate have been under financial scrutiny long before Thaksin ever took office; nevertheless he’s been very successful in recruiting the middle- and upper-class to his cause, along with several highly respected Buddhist monks.

After several fruitless conversations (even Burm didn’t want to talk about it), I gave up on my inquiries and reluctantly relied on the media for news of any progress. Then, on the 7th of October, there was blood spilled in Bangkok. Thousands of PAD protesters filled the streets of the nation’s capital, attempting to shut-down the planned reopening of parliament. PM Somchai, who was already at parliament before the protesters formed en masse, was forced to escape via helicopter after climbing over a fence on the rear grounds of the building. The demonstration continued all day, prompting the police to use riot-gear and tear-gas, a force that resulted in two dead and 400 injured, and the whole nation would know. There was no rose-colored lens. The next day, newspaper photos and video-footage streamed unfiltered images of blood and dismemberment; carnage the likes of which you have never seen on a FOX newscast, no doubt due to the journalistic affiliations of the PAD. The coverage was effective. Later that week, the Police Commissioner in BKK, whose name I can’t recall, publicly refused to follow a direct order from PM Somchai, to use deadlier force for any future demonstrations; a decisive statement that made clear who the Commissioner’s sympathies sided with. “That is it!” I remember thinking to myself, after seeing the news finally hit CNN and the BBC, “I have got to get down to Bangkok!” The excitement was beyond palpable. The sights, sounds and smell of revolution, whether right or wrong, were unmistakable.

Two days after the riots, I decided to make my way to the train station for a quick jaunt down south. “If anything,” I thought to myself, “I could do a little job-hunting; as the pickings seemed a little slim in CM.” I talked to the house-mother of Santitham about arranging a ride over to the station, and she seemed aghast at my request.
“No, no, no!! You cannot go to train today!”
“Why not? What’s wrong?”
“Uhh, they…They mopping streets. Mopping streets!”
“They’re mopping the streets? Oh. Well, uh, when can I go?”
“Not today. Uh, I think not this week. Maybe next week.”
“Oh. Ok. Thanks, Nung.”
Something wasn’t right. Maybe it was the look of sheer terror that street-cleaning brought to Nung’s face, but something told me I didn’t quite understand what house-mom was trying to tell me. I needed to talk to someone else about this, and Berm wasn’t around, so I left Santitham for some lunch and a fresh interpretation.

As I walked around the neighborhood, there was a noticeable absence of street vendors. Several businesses were closed, including most of the restaurants I often visited for lunch. There were very few tuk-tuks and motorbikes about, shit even the dogs seemed to have disappeared. When I finally tracked Berm down later that afternoon, he told me that thousands of people all over the city were departing CM for Bangkok to either join in the protests or to visit family members they were concerned about. This is why house-mom had spurned me from the train-station. Not because they were mopping the streets, but because there were mobs in the streets. The trains, planes, and automobiles were making a mass exodus to BKK, so much so that many people were stranded in CM and had decided to hold there own demonstrations right there on the spot.

Events transpired against my leaving for BKK, and for weeks after the October violence, negotiation and compromise between the two warring factions hit a wall. Somchai did not back down, even after facing criticism within his own administration. Not until I had moved 700 miles south to Surat Thani about a month later did I give much thought to the matter; not until the PAD had effectively shut-down the entire country by cutting it off from the rest of the world, taking over both Bangkok airports and stemming the flow of the nation’s chief source of income, tourism (losses were estimated in the billions). Unfortunately, the PAD decided to launch their assault just days before the tragically infamous incident in Mumbai. I watched the news as several Thais, stranded in India after a nightmarish affair, having lost friends or family in the attacks on the Oberoi Trident, Taj Mahal and other Mumbai sites, trying to return home to Thailand, only to be thwarted by the now seemingly petty actions of the PAD, all flights home having been cut-off. I remember this day more vividly than any other that I’ve spent in SE Asia before or since. This was a day that I lived closer to a reality beyond my comprehension or control than any other day in my life. So, I suppose this story serves no better purpose than to show how little I know of the world I just recently began to live in, and how frustrating it can be to even try and figure it out.

Happier notes to come.