The Star Spangled Detour
Last night, I ate spicy Chongqing hotpot in Beijing.
This morning, I ate pita with feta and hummus in Istanbul.
It’s now lunch time, and I am sitting in a sticky booth at a McDonald’s in downtown Brooklyn, weeping nostalgically over a mountain of French fries and listening to the portly, Latino cashier girls drop F-bombs in front of customers.
No, Backpackology is not finished. This abrupt and obligatory detour to America is only brief—and for the sake of full disclosure, for legal purposes.
That’s right, I needed to come back to appear in court, or some bullshit. Because, in case you haven’t heard, I’m a total renegade.
All this shall be explained in good time though; all shall be told. But there’s a lot of stories to catch up on before then, so sit tight.
In the meanwhile, allow me this moment to revel in the greasy Americana goodness, to bask in the porcelain glory of western flush toilets, and to sing sweet poetry to an inexhaustible supply of clean underwear that doesn’t stick to walls.
New stories coming soon. Stay tuned.