mad_andy

I write to my dear friends and readers from the safety of the Sheraton at Charlotte, near the airport. yes folks, Mad Andy is Stateside.

MAKE THE BLOODY MOST OF IT BECAUSE IT AIN'T NEVER HAPPENING AGAIN!!!!

I am NOT putting myself through that... that... ridiculous palaver again. And i even dressed like a sodding grownup to avoid hassle. Well, as far as the eagle-eyed, crew-cut, All-American Homeboy behind the desk at Homeland Security went then yeah, it worked. I just lurked behind Slay, gave him my fingerprints and tried to look harmless on camera and we got through in record time.

But the rest of it. Jesus. I swear, one day I'm going through security stark bollock naked and save myself a lot of bloody hassle.

Tell me, what am i going to hide in my boots? The New Rocks, yes. You could hide a lot of shit in those. Thick soles, mysterious metal bits...

But my boxer boots? They're sodding well skin tight!

The truth is that we've lost. We have lost the battle against fear, and it shows in every move you make. Don't smoke in here - you're in the middle of one of the most polluted cities anywhere in London, and people are worried about cigarettes? - don't do this, take this off, let me x ray you, are you up to no good...?

Bah.

But no, we can't x ray you BECAUSE YOU MIGHT GET CANCER--

FFS.

Fat chick with bright red boots. Stare. She looks different, should we be afraid? (Let me take this jacket off, really give you something to stare at.) OMG, look away from the big guy, look awaaaaay!

This time they let me through with my lighters, but examined my belt buckle (plain brass) and my nicotine gum very closely. I was tempted to set light to something just to annoy them.

But no, I was a good girl. I did what i was told, endured the cattle-truck of economy air travel, kept my head down, baaaaah. We're sheep. We let ourselves be intimidated and threatened until we lose what little freedom we had just to extend our miserable lives just a little longer. For what purpose? To cower in our foxholes in terror of the next attack? Bah. Sheep.

But the love I have for flying hasn't diminished; there is nothing like the feeling of looking down onto the clouds, feeling the winds vibrate the metal tube you're riding, look over the horizon and want to point the nose of the aircraft for that cloud formation there and see what's on the other side of it...

As the Road calls to rathenar, the Sky calls to me.

*Sigh*

I spent the last few hours of the trip stalking around swearing 'never again', but I guess the next three weeks will give me the answer as to whether all the sheepery and blind, ignorant obedience is worth all the hassle.

Oh, and remind me to tell you about Sam The Bastard's latest escapade. *Groan*

Still, I brought plenty of tea bags and it's only ten bucks for 24 hours 'net access from the hotel. Which reminds me--

In the bar after dinner (nice burger, had a good laugh with the waiter too) the conversation turned to tattoos. Unsurprisingly, considering the guy on the stool next to mine had eyes on stalks. Anyway.

Turns out it's illegal in South Carolina to get a tattoo.

Why?

Oh, America....