40,000ft: shrimp and wine


Day one in Germany was spent trying to stay outside and occupied during daylight hours to stave off jetlag. After picking up our rental (BMW 318i convertible, gotta love Germany), we headed straight from the airport into downtown Munich, where we parked at a Marriot (for familiarity sake, not our hotel) and asked the concierge for “stuff to do.” We planned to take the subway into city center, get some beer and ‘wurst, and watch the Glockenspiel do its thing. After that, we pushed a planned visit to Dachau off until Friday, as time was short. Checked in at the hotel, grabbed some coffee to try and keep the eyes open, and am now taking the pre-dinner downtime to pen this entry. If all goes well, tomorrow’s entry will include a gallery update from Germany and also an 8-week update to Keaton’s gallery (lofty goals while on a business trip, I know). But… for now… this is it.

Sometimes I wonder about the clientele they’ll book in business class these days. Take for example this kid: iPod hardwired to his ear canals, a ratty, pea-green knit shirt tucked into baggy khakis (the kind with the “cargo” pockets on the thighs), and a pair of overworn brown shoes.. He’s got those scuffed shoes off – I can see him curling his toes within his brown socks, and his drink order was a simple “I’ll have the ‘cab,’” as if he comes from money.. I’d peg him in his early thirties, his thinning crown says not much younger, if any. Exuding a lack of polish: stuffing gobs of lettuce into his mouth from the salad bowl, occasionally re-positioning his crotch with his hand when he thinks no one is looking, picking asparagus out of his teeth with his fingernail. How can this kid fly business class? How can he afford to rub elbows with us, think himself on-par with us?

I’ll tell you how, bitch. I’m that kid in the green shirt, I like it because it’s loose and not “scratchy.”. Oh, and those khakis, they’re comfortable and I can put my passport and iPod in those “cargo” pockets. I’m the change of the guard, motherfucker, and me and an army of kids just like me are taking over. We’re coming to take your job, take your money and your glory. We’ll push you out of your office and into an assisted living facility where you can reminisce about the days of US Steel. We’d punch you in your wrinkled face, but we don’t have a free hand for adjusting our huge balls. Get used to it; we’ll see you on the next flight to Munich, when we look back on you from 1st class. We are the new.

Until tomorrow, auf wiedersehen.


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