"I'm going to Vegas!"

Man, I miss it up north! Luckily, I'll be heading there at the end of the week. And then again at the end of next week. Because I plan vacations real well.

I miss that cottage and that lake. But most of all, I think I miss being able to breathe easier, which is not something that is happening this week. I'm yawning just to get a complete gulp of air in me, which can't be good for the economy (but what can be these days? Hah-hah-hah).

Today a young spoiled looking gent with greasy-ish hair came in for a passport. While he and his mother waited, he kept saying things like "Vegas!", or "I'm going to Vegas! Yeah!" as I ignored him. He reminded me of a snot of a former friend of mine who had never worked a day in his life yet managed to spend all his family riches on ... jesus, I don't know, fancy belt buckles or something, and so I didn't want this replica to start talking to me about his stupid Vegas trip that I thought surely his daddy was paying for.

Then I made the mistake of trying to lighten things up while they stood in line by saying to his mother who looked at me directly, "Looks like you picked the busiest time to come in," to which the son replied "No worries, I've got til September..." and his mother chimed in, "Yeah! He's going to Vegas!" Shit.

So then I engaged in a million years-long conversation about how he was going to Vegas for free and how he makes $20/hour and how he fears for his liver during this Vegas trip, all of which he felt comfortable telling me within the first few seconds after I made the mistake of engaging in conversation with his mother.

Oi vey. At least afterward there was a more entertaining guy who ran into both the entrance and the exit doors.