Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Sudetenland Tales

Page 168

menu that week: tacos, sliders, donuts, chicken sticks, chicken wings, wattymelon slices, whatever, etc.

I was sitting next to an old brownie guy. After his seniority concluded his participation in the perennial joo war, he worked for twenty years as a fisherman in Seattle. He kept showing me pictures on his phone of like every fish he’d ever caught and all of his friends’ cars, and started the whole ‘When you come to Seattle, we get seafood’ thing, and I really didn’t want to exchange phone numbers with him and start getting random texts every time he had a Facebook question or a ‘new’ fish picture.

The airport is fairly insane, gigantic. Every gate is basically a sponsored lounge of some sort, themed or filled with ‘up and coming’ artwork done by the cutting edge of ‘Deviant Art.’ Like it’s not just gate C7, it’s a Hello Kitty themed Sanrio lounge. It’s also got a duty free supermall in the middle of it. For whatever reason, I went to the McDonald’s to eat. They do not have their act together there for some reason. Everything tasted way off. I don’t know where they get their meat, but it’s wrong. I only ate maybe a third of my burger and threw the rest out. ............... Oh, no! When I checked my pocket, I found that the old brownie fisherman guy had stuffed his newspaper there. Curious, I read it.