eric stepped out of the plane, onto the threadbare jetway carpet, and was immideately assaulted.
he had to blink at least five times before the electrical impulses now being recieved by his brain could put the sensations into words he could understand.
thicker? thinner? WTF? hot....wearing a pea coat, of all things....why am i wearing this get up, in this weather?.....F$#%, my hat. well now there was no chance of not looking stupid. might as well put on the happy face and trudge back. here he was, on a journey to escape the utter stupidity, no, the
vapidly excesive idiocy of his half spent youth, and this was how he started it.
leaving his @*&^$%^#$@#& hat in the @(^$#&($%$#%^# overhead storage compartment of Indian Airways flight # 286, London Heathrow to Mumbai International, before he had even seen so much as a @#%&*%^#*
rickshaw.
He didn't even want to
think about it. it was 5 days later, and he shook his head and arched his eyebrows at the empty room he was in, such was the self loathing he felt about the way he acted during the first 25 minutes of his pilgrimage into.....
What?he suddenly sat on the bed and began wondering what it was, exactly, he was doing in this strange land. the first thing he thought of was the self hatred he really felt for himself that he had come to escape. well, it wasn't as if he was doing anything special in pittsburgh. drinking Iron City every night, smoking half a pack of American Spirts, no, a full pack it had been right before he left. shit, he had even been smoking grass, even though it made him feel like everything was going to crash down on his head. well, at least it was a far cry from the state of his mind 2 years ago, before God decided to have a talk with him and literaly took all the enjoyment out of recreational drug use, such that whenever he smoked a bowl he thought he was....
going....to....die....Yes, that's what it was. the God thing.
If it even was God....he was so high that night he couldn't pass out, which is what he always did.
no, he had to go outside and have a smoke by himself, and there it was, or there He was, or It.....or....
Maybe it was a $%&^$%*& space alien, for all he knew!....one thing was for sure....
it was
Something, and this....
Something had made it Impossible for him to revel in the excesses of American Youth in the 21st century. Which to Eric meant smoking lots and lots and lots and lots of pot.
And here he was, in India of all places, at the house of a very nice working class family his friend Jim had set him up with. Jim was the only one in the whole group who had managed to step away from the constant lung anihilation and had traveled all over asia looking to "enhance his world view" as it was called. Shit, all he wanted to do was escape the sick sad Potface scene, and when he came back he had a full beard, had grown 2 inches due to standing up straight, and could actually talk to non pot heads without saying "Dude...." or "Whatever" or any of 200 cliche phrases his so called friends had claimed for themselves. This cat practicly
glowed, Eric thought. So now here he was, escaping the Vapidly Excessive Idiocy of his former cronies, and with a side order of "Hello God it's Me Eric.....
Now what??"
