I’m a stinking, festering mess as I try to exist in the international phone booth. A shadow of a shadow. A nonentity bothering the human race by breathing good air.
I’ve slept little. My head and heart too troubled from another epic fail. I feel like I’ve got cotton wool wrapped around my face. And no; I don’t really know what that’s like either.
I manage to get my cards cancelled and begin the process of having new ones sent through. I don’t think I’ll be leaving San Juan any time soon. The voice on the end of the line cannot even humour me with a time frame, but I am informed that some little scumbag has used my credit card four times this morning. In Rivas. I’m guessing a local, most likely driving; two of the transactions were at a petrol station. He’s possibly a regular in San Juan at the weekend, praying on young drunks. I’m betting he makes a killing.
I’m suddenly overtaken by wild delusions of grandeur. I’m going to track this guy down and cut his hands off. And then eat him. Actually that last part is a lie and just because I’m hungry. I’m also totally bemused as to how a dark skinned Latino man used my credit card with the name ‘Stuart Andrew Jameson’ on the front. I become aware my voice is raised and I’m taking it out on the Indian call centre guy. Eventually I come back to earth. And eat a taco. With cheese. And pork. Mmmmmmm.
Ok enough of this entry. I’m off to get a cheesy pork taco.
Delusions of grandeur
I’m a stinking, festering mess as I try to exist in the international phone booth. A shadow of a shadow. A nonentity bothering the human race by breathing good air.
I’ve slept little. My head and heart too troubled from another epic fail. I feel like I’ve got cotton wool wrapped around my face. And no; I don’t really know what that’s like either.
I manage to get my cards cancelled and begin the process of having new ones sent through. I don’t think I’ll be leaving San Juan any time soon. The voice on the end of the line cannot even humour me with a time frame, but I am informed that some little scumbag has used my credit card four times this morning. In Rivas. I’m guessing a local, most likely driving; two of the transactions were at a petrol station. He’s possibly a regular in San Juan at the weekend, praying on young drunks. I’m betting he makes a killing.
I’m suddenly overtaken by wild delusions of grandeur. I’m going to track this guy down and cut his hands off. And then eat him. Actually that last part is a lie and just because I’m hungry. I’m also totally bemused as to how a dark skinned Latino man used my credit card with the name ‘Stuart Andrew Jameson’ on the front. I become aware my voice is raised and I’m taking it out on the Indian call centre guy. Eventually I come back to earth. And eat a taco. With cheese. And pork. Mmmmmmm.
Ok enough of this entry. I’m off to get a cheesy pork taco.