Switzerland

Zurich, 10h10 (local time)

15 January 2010

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. . . . . . The glass of wine in JFK was a classically dumb idea.* Though, it was delicious, and did help to relieve some of my NYC-separation anxiety before going through security, the following $9 tuna sandwich, $37 spent to buy a second bag to disperse the weight of my single suitcase, 7 1/2 hours in the air, 50 minutes with the handsome whiskey-tasting kiosk man in the Swiss airport (8:20-9:10 am local time), $200 flight change fee and the WAY pricey (seven-fucking-converted-dollar) coffee that was meant to make me feel better after paying the aforementioned you-missed-your-flight-you-fucking-asshole fee (and sober me up so that I didn't subsequently miss another), I have decided that the fifteen dollar treat at the very, very start of my trip was probably a bit of a premature splurge.

Or maybe somewhere I knew that it was going to get much, much worse before it got worse and needed to jump on the opportunity before the experience was tainted (or maybe the vague recollection of how god-forsaken and emotionally/physically/financially-draining my last trip to Paris was effected my decision to partake in the indulgence). Perhaps it is a sign that somehow I will two steps ahead of my experience, taking care to cushion my own falls before they occur. Or perhaps it is an omen of the drunken poverty that lay before me.**

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*Classic, here, referring to that before which one would pause for a moment and then say, "Oh, but Sam would do that."

**Not to worry though--as long as there rests room on my MC, I can always rearrange a flight back to the house of my parents (or close friend(s)) where I can curl up in a ball and spend what months it takes the negative experience to fade away in a deep, deep coma.***

***Convoluted though it may be, this is my glass-half-full.