Perambulant

I'm baaaaack. About 32 hours of travel. Lots of time to read. Finished my book, started another. Lots of time to buy coffee. Starbucks was happy to see me finally. I got skinny lattes at JFK and in Atlanta. Also got mugs to commemorate. The latte in Salt Lake however went uncommemorated. They didn't have the SLC mugs there. No reason. They just didn't.

I also had lots of time to write. So I did.

I looked like a lost vagabond. What was acceptable dress in a third world country became noticeably apparent once I arrived back in the US. I had on jeans that needed to be washed. Badly. I didn't send them in to be cleaned before I left because circumstances dictated otherwise. So I wore dirty jeans, maroon fleece, sandals with socks and Alcatraz. One of the pilots on one of the flights asked me as I was deplaning if I was going back.

Dress was only a part of the weary, spent traveller image I was projecting however. I had an official business-like black shoulder satchel that carried my iPod, noise-cancelling earphones, books, money, snacks, etc. But this seemed strangely out of place with what I was wearing. It didn't fit with any of the other items I was carrying either.

I had the small guitar I had purchased in Mumbai before my 10 day northern cross country excursion via trains, planes and scary buses. Add to this a large bag that looked like something a carpet bagger would be carrying his shifty wares around in. And it was full. I had some fragile food items coming back with me in this bag, Chaat mix. The Bux mugs, my hats and sunglasses. Hawaiian shirt (took place of the fleece at JFK). Chicki toffee (Indian candy) and Muckwas mix (Indian breath freshener). I had bought this HUGE bag of cashews way back in Varanasi. It was a magic bag. It never ran out. It never even got low. I ate all the cashews my poor body could manage but the bag didn't change. It just stayed the same. HUGE. So eventually I took this bag out of the satchel where I had to wrestle it for dominance every time I wanted my iPod. I was put it in the carpet bag instead. I couldn't have cared less if it made every other thing in it's baggy kingdom subservient. So long as I didn't have to see it again. For a long time.

All of this being hauled around with me from one airport to the next. In SLC I walked from one end of the terminal to the other in search for the Bux mug that wasn't there. Before I discovered it wasn't there. There were three Bux and I had too see them all with my own two eyes. But I had 6 hours to chill so why not? I had the BEST Stromboli from SLC Airport Sbarro however, so I forgive them for lack of the SLC Bux the mug.

All the while I had this stuff with me. I got some stares. The further away I got from the international flights, the more interested (or afraid perhaps?) people became.

Frankly I was just too tired to care.