I’ve had bare minimum sleep. I’m late for work and I’m stuck on a train, in a tunnel. Disgustingly hot and sweaty. Pressed up against a stranger. What a Monday morning.
What’s worse is I know this is all bullshit. I received an update from my trainline at 00:02 explaining there are signalling issues for a specific train time – my specific train time. Yet all the trains before that time were fine. Not one delay. So what’s the deal? How did they know at midnight?
Fuck the deal. Who cares about the deal? I just want to get to work and get this over and done with. Don’t worry though, I kept myself in good spirits…
Whilst silently screaming “beam me up scotty!” to numerous planes through the window, I found myself deciding the plane’s destination – just in case I was beamed up.
Las Vegas.
I would be wearing my shades, soaking up rays in the Hard Rock Café balcony seating area, eating eggs benedict and drinking unlimited bloody Marys and tequila sunrises.
Around midday, I would take a short stroll to a fancy casino and lose all of my savings.
High on the pure oxygen pumped into my lungs from the casino, I would proceed to the Caesars Palace rooftop, where I would throw myself off and fall blissfully, contently before colliding with the ground… surrounding the swimming pool, because it’s hard stone and if by some curse I survive, It’s just a short crawl away to drown myself.
And THAT. Would be ten folds better than my morning.
Anyway, I think it’s time for some lunch.