Jetlag Blues, Vol. 1:
It is 1:58 a.m. and I just shot awake. I flicked the TV on and there seems to be nothing on but shows about two shrill men screaming at groups of bikini-clad women who are eating. Then there’s the channel that’s nothing but a school girl reading a book, and then looking over to a computer-animated space dinosaur in a cape (or it could just be a series of extra sleeves, it’s hard to tell), punching him when she’s seemingly had enough with it. Every once in a while a pink flying squirrels dance in the background of alternating images of women in bikinis or photographs of food. If I’m really lucky, occasionally, there’s a shot of a bikini-clad woman holding food. My head is throbbing.
The rain has stopped, but I remembered a weird hallucination I had before sleeping. Um, is there a reason hotels would allow doctors and nurses to scan you with lasers while you sleep? I’m pretty sure this isn’t an accommodation offered by any hotel imaginable, but I still played it cool and pretended to sleep through it while I swore I was very much awake. (The lasers tickled my eyes and skin.) That’s when the distant sounds of frogs starting pulsing through different parts of my hotel room in surround sound. That’s it. I’m going back to sleep.
