botox in your balls

get into seatac around one in the morning. two backpacks on, both chest and front covered. the airport is dead, no flights in or out until 5. go through security and down to our terminal.
find some armless black chairs hiding behind an abandoned shoe shine station, watch several episodes of 21 jump street well into 3:30 when we decide to attempt to sleep. sprawled out on a shoe polished-stained carpet under heavy fluorescent lights we attempt to sleep with shirts over our faces, but spend the time hearing enclosing beeps coming from a broken people-mover. Time passes, a flight that seems to be from the southeast or east-coast (based on the attire and the time difference- everyone was quite perky) and i watch from under the cover of my t-shirt cow-boy boots, flip flops, and slippers trot on through into the soundless abyss of empty waiting rooms.

Time lingers into the morning and crowds pour in, almost at once, most waiting for the doors to open at a starbucks, including a man whose physique is like that of a standing polar bear, only he was carting a flat of Tillamook cheese.

Got to our terminal along with 20 some odd other stand-by travelers wanting to snag a ticket on a sold-out flight. No more flights until the day after.

Downtown Seattle we end up on a bus darting through a subway tunnel under the depths of the city. A man drinking coffee, his jaw hanging open for the twenty minutes we were traveling, his head bobbing here and there from monday morning tiredness. tattoo'ed onto his knuckles "game over". Very confused and slightly delirious.

Find an amazing breakfast place called oddfellows in capital hill, good eats and a treasure trove of great artifacts. behind us a woman talking to herself, eventually gets herself thrown out.

finally make it to kansas city, after being awake for some 40 odd hours. wake up call for 445am for a continental breakfast of biscuits and gravy with orange juice. hands swabbed at the airport for god knows what.

new york is humid. our neighborhood sketchy. a woman with a nickel in her ear, little quantity of teeth, and 4 foot 8 was peering into the window as we ate egg and plantain sandwiches dripping in sweat.
pouring rain, totally impressed that I am functioning off that 4 hours of sleep in nearly 70 hours.

"botox in your balls will stop them from sweating" -overhead in Greenwich Village.