Back to Bras

Its amazing the stench you acquire after marinating on a plane for 13 hours in the same clothes and a hangover. My eyelids look glossy and greasy and my hair is matted in Bangkok smog. The wine I ordered on the flight from Tokyo to compliment my Ambien spills down my white jeans. Now I sit amongst business people I assume, on the connecting flight from Seattle to San Diego and I’m wondering how horribly I wreak to the nicely dressed woman next to me. My leather beaded bracelets and tan weathered hands look awkward next to her silver ones accentuating her nicely manicured fingers. I sense I’m returning to reality. I haven’t been surrounded by this many Americans in 25 days. Although its refreshing knowing I’m able to have a full on conversation with anyone around me , it twinges a feeling from deep inside somewhere. A empty sort of feeling, the feeling of being part of the crowd again, the feeling of normalcy. 15 or so hours ago I was drinking Singha in a Thai strip club. Sleeping before a flight is overrated anyway right? Especially when it leaves at 3 in the morning. Now I’m hours from San Diego. And the flight attendant asks me if I would like ice in my glass.

Surreal.

A sunrise looks amazing from the sky. Its going to be a beautiful day.

I'm going to miss:

Buying fresh Papaya from the street vendors.

The sound of the school children across from my hotel on Soi 8

Black sesame soymilk and Genmai green tea from 711

The challenge of turning each hotel room into a gym

Techno music and seafood dinner on Leela’s Beach