There’s always one day on a trip where the wheels come off. Not dramatically. Not in a blaze of glory. Just… quietly. Like your dignity slipping out the back door while you’re face down in a pillow, bargaining with your own liver. Yesterday was that day. I’d love to tell you I was out soaking…
Let me start with an apology. Not a polite, British “sorry”—one of those real apologies where you acknowledge you’ve made choices, and those choices are now writing the blog for you. I am, at present, pickled. Not gently infused. Not delicately marinated. I am a full-blown raki preservation project. Somewhere between glass seven and “who’s…
There’s a very specific kind of arrogance that sets in when a flight is going well. You’ve boarded without incident. No one has argued about overhead luggage. No one has removed their shoes and committed crimes against humanity. You’ve got a drink in hand and, in a moment of wildly misplaced optimism, you start a…