Page 80 of Almost Not Quite Engaged

Somewhere

Pouting? Ego bruised, good. Don’t call women bitches! You know I’m right. Call your mother.

K

I lather on another round of lip balm and hand lotion. It’s dry as shit in this plane. Notification pops up.

Prague. Chicken Place.

K —

I apologized.

Z

(PS. Not calling that woman today)

Lounging

Z

I’m not mad anymore. Are you?

Tell me something stupid.

K

Prague

Dear KAT

Not mad, just stubborn. Post more photos. Despite my bad mood I do love Prague. (See photo of happy Zane in your Cure t-shirt. Here it is skipping across the St. Charles Bridge.) Tell me who your 3rd-grade teacher was and what was your go-to lunch. Mine was Mrs. Stefanek and turkey cheese rollups, no bread, and pudding.

I’m sick of looking at the same stupid faces on this plane. Oh dear Lord, get me off this plane. The dude next to me has the jimmy legs. I post the first thing that comes to mind.

Z —

Mrs. Hartzell and creamy peanut butter and grape jelly on rye bread with Milanos.

I’m in a weird place. My turn to bitch about things. Saddle up.

I hate the guy sitting next to me right now. He’s the worst man in the world.

K -

Go ahead. I’m here.

Z

I stop writing to yell at my seat mate in my head: STOP IT DUDE WHO DOESN’T SPEAK ENGLISH AND SMELLS LIKE CLOVES AND CABBAGE! I DIDN’T PAY FOR FIRST CLASS SO YOU COULD MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I’M ON SOME SHAKY WOODEN ROLLERCOASTER. I HATE YOU, CABBAGE AND CLOVE DUDE! IF YOU NEVER KNOW ANYTHING ELSE IN LIFE OR THE NEXT… KNOW THIS — I HATE YOU!

I have to go. I have to murder this guy next to me. He smells like cabbage.

K

New plan: I dig through my bag and whatever pill I pull out is the one I take. Could be Vicodin, could be fish oil, who knows. It’s pill roulette. Oh, thank God — Ambien! Please put me back to sleep, oh pharmaceutical miracle.

I wake up as we land in Dhaka. I’ve been to Singapore and Seoul. If only he’d seen that stupid tree in one of those countries, this ordeal would have been over like nine hours sooner. I take a cab to the heart of the city. I open my email and start typing.