I am the Airport Fool

I am the airport fool.

I can’t figure out how to turn off my cell connection to America so they’re going to charge me

I never have any idea what time it is

I got on the wrong line then realized and slipped into the right line but let people cut me so it would look like I was the gentleman, not the cutter.

I spilled purple nail polish in my bag and realized it much later when I wondered why my fingers were purple and smelling of acetone. (acetone?)

The dutch flight attendant told me I couldn’t go down the aisle to the bathroom and that I had to put my bag up in the overhead even though I needed it. I’m sure I looked distraught. She came back and told me I could use the business class bathroom and that I could take my bag back now that they took off. I could tell she felt bad. She held a baby that had been crying until it stopped crying and told the baby’s mother that she would keep it and they would have to get a new baby. We had an enemies to friends arc.

I pressed a button in the airport that said deur open thinking it was door open but it was an emergency exit. It was green, which was misleading, green means go. The door started beeping very loudly and I could not make it stop.

A dutch man yelled at me in dutch and I kept saying I don’t know I don’t know I didn’t mean to I thought I thought I thought. I don’t know a single word in dutch.

Two dutch girls had to write down my passport number. I asked what was going on. They said I would be banned if I did it again. But they don’t think I’ll do it again.

I had a tennis ball in my throat so I went to the bathroom and tried to cry but couldn’t. My eyes were lined with red but the tears wouldn’t come out. I deep breathed them away.

I’m on line behind a Scottish lady. Sometimes she makes jokes I can’t understand because she’s so Scottish. I know to laugh because she’s laughing. She’s going with her husband to the Grand Prix.

Every guy here is hot and has a mustache. Really innumerable amounts of attractive men.

Dutch people all are hot and tall and aryan and sturdy. Real hitler youth looking. They think I’m one of them because I grew into my nose. They say to me: allo. I guess I know one Dutch word.

I’ve changed my mind. There are other Dutch people. There are nerdy teenagers and old hippies and girls with hot messy shocks of hair. There are girls with fake tans. There is a man with a tiny white spout of hair in a line under his lip, just that, that’s all for his facial hair.

An ad with a black female doctor reads: Empowering Africa.

I sat between a gay and a straight man on the plane. Both their arms touched me as I slept. Not because they meant to, because we were all so close together. I didn’t mind it. I liked it. It was warm and human. I tried to get us all to breathe at the same time. But they breathe fast. I breathe slow.

Writing this letter made me feel 100x better. Now my long bad day is a story and my back hurts and I get to tell someone about it. I read your letter in LAX. I publically cried and grasped my chest where my heart is. I hope I never forget the pain of the past so the joy of the now feels all the better. Lonely days are gone. Lonely days will never be as lonely as they used to be. Not when we have people we love to email and write plays with and we can say anything we want. We can discover new things we didn’t know yet that we wanted to say.

I really like the word Helsinki. It’s in Finland. I keep seeing it. Maybe I will go.

I have finally arrived at my hostel. I wandered lost around the streets of Nice for hours as my backpack broke my back. I need a sim card. I am tired.