The Cat Spot

Flying internationally with China Southern was a bare minimum experience and a reminder of how terrible airplane food was back in early 90's, late 80's and beyond. First stop was Guanghan, China. I couldn't wait to get off and eat something that didn't smell as if it could survive chemical warfare. There was one shop open close to my terminal. I ordered a breakfast sandwich and coffee. After waiting 19 minutes thinking the process would only take 10 I feared I might miss my flight. I asked for a premade sandwhich in the front. Another five minutes goes by until two bags of premade sandwiches are handed to me. Before anything I was gently shoved out and then I ran. When I got to my seat I found four egg and tomato sandwiches. Not what I ordered but defiantly beat anything China Southern was serving. The flight was filled with snoring and heat. I always wondered "Who are these people that order stuff from sky mall or whatever magazine the airline has where you

(Flashback to Nepal January 2014) Kathmandu was a sweet surrender of a mother fucker. Reeling from the beautiful brutal Beirut I wandered the streets with a repelling sadness. Ready to combust and turn to dust. Walking past people in a haze replaying unchangeable moments.  Out of the noise and chaos in my head and in the street a voice asked, “Are you American?” I walked past for a spilt second and stopped. His voice resonated in me. His tone, his certainty. I turned around and looked at him almost getting knocked over by others passing by. He pulled me up onto his store front platform out of the rain and looked into my eyes, “I can feel your sadness.” I took a deep breath to hold it all in but the tears streamed down. I hated myself for being weak and vulnerable and letting my guard down instantly in front of this stranger while at the same time it felt so good to finally release. He felt familiar and safe.  He brought me out a milk tea. We chatted more and got me crack