A cacophony of retching
The days before jumping on a plane bound for parts unknown make up some of my favourites.
There’s nothing quite like wrapping up projects (or pretending to, at least), squeezing in a training session, and sipping on an espresso while knowing in 24-36 hours I’ll be “waking up” on the other side of the planet.
Air travel is truly one of humanities most powerful developments, and I hope—perhaps using the teachings inside the Sorcerers Guild—you’ll be able to take full advantage of our ability to rattle around in a tin can for a few hours, and throw yourself into new environments.
With that said, helllllloooooo from Barcelona, Spain.
The trip here ended up being a bit of a disaster where nothing went quite right, nor as anticipated.
On our flight to Toronto, their was a kid in the row in front of us who tossed his cookies for most of the flight (as evidenced by some insensitive dweeb who commented, “Wow, you really filled that bag up. You must be empty!”)
When we landed in Toronto to catch our connection to Barcelona, we found out it had been delayed an hour.
The flight across the pond was smooth, we had a row to ourselves, and alternated between reading, talking, and sleeping.
We made it—our bag did not.
Fortunately, we had backpacks with the essentials—laptops, books, wallet, passport, etc—everything you really need when dropped into a new city.
Between Retchy McPukerson, delays, broken airplane sleep, and our bag not showing up, we had a host of viable reasons to lose our shit, and dissolve into misery.
Except we didn’t, because there’s zero benefit to doing so.
There was no controlling the poor kid’s stomach.
Flying a plane on time is well outside my scope of practice.
And unless I want to fly back to Toronto, locate my bag, and personally escort it back to Barcelona…it’s in the hands of the airline.
Sure, none of this is ideal, nor would I *hope* for it to happen…but there’s sweet fuck-all to be done about any of it.
Aside from taking a moment to breath, be appreciative for being in such a situation (none of it would have happened if I couldn’t travel on a whim), and use it as practice in being Unfuckwithable.
It’s funny how unfortunate events become barely a blip on the radar when you can keep your cool, hold control, and go laugh about it over tapas.
Speaking of tapas, let’s wrap this up. It’s about time to go track down whatever you eat for breakfast in Spain,
Since I’ve still got my laptop, the bulk of my “working time” on this trip is going to be spent putting the final pieces of the Sorcerers Guild print newsletter together.
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