As though being flung through the air in a steel tube were not already a grave matter for a rational person, one must necessarily arrive at an airport, a zone altogether hostile to the operation of the mind. Forever fixed in a twilight state, everyone is either running as fast as they can (see encumbrance rules), or they are shambling mindlessly in search of brains. When taking advantage of San Diego's restroom facilities, I saw that coins up to a dime had been dropped into it, so many that they nearly reached the water level. What a grim, I thought, what a grisly locale that its urinals and its wishing wells are synonymous.
