Back to Reality

The office is in the process of getting remodeled and there’s a bunch of workers here that don’t speak English. It’s like I never even left. I’m not sure if it’s the slightly hallucinatory inducing stench of carpet glue or the fact that for the last 10 days I’d be drunk by now but I can’t force myself to tackle my daunting to-do list. I’m pretty sure the only reason I woke up this morning was to try the espresso I bought in Costa Rica.

The trip was truly fucking fantastic.

San Jose is basically the equivalent of smashing together New Orleans, Spain, a noise band, and an amusement park. Thankfully we only stayed for the night.

The next day we took our first domestic flight to Arenal. The airport had no running water BUT there was a baptism taking place. Seriously. Holy water or no water.

I’ve done some pretty stupid shit with the pretense of experiencing life to the fullest, but a 45-minute flight in this shanty fucking plane took the cake. 10 seats, 2 engines, a pilot that looked like Lou Reed, and constant bone shattering turbulence. Quinne would have shit her pants. I’m seriously surprised there weren’t crates of chicken in the cargo area and/or Indiana Jones racing down the runway to hitch a ride. It was totally worth it though. Arenal is fucking gorgeous.

I will write more about it tonight because if I don’t get out of my office in the next 5 minutes I might go all Allison the Huffer.