That was a bad one boy.
A term that Lu and I have recognized over the years as Vern’s way of announcing that indeed, an incident of collateral damage, or mass proportion has occurred. Like, for example, the time we were loading a moving truck and he fell with one leg between the lift gate, and the other up in the air. Or practically any time he “fixes” or “repairs” something, look out, pain will ensue. Maybe for him, maybe for all of us. You never can tell.
Alas, the outlook was fair skies for my 50th gala birthday celebration to visit my bestie. What could possibly go awry? Hermine, shermine. Bah on hurricanes, says me. You know those ominous warnings we humans get from time to time? On a few occasions, I’ve been lucky, or in tune enough to heed them. Not this time. Nothing was stopping me from going to Turkey. Well, except the first day of flight cancellations. No worries! Soldier on! I’ve dealt with way worse, who cares if I spend my 50th at JFK? When my flight was canceled the second and third time, that’s when I should’ve smartened up. But nope. I’m gonna ram my will down the throats of fate, come hell or high water. Fate rams back, peeps.
My trip to Istanbul was cut major short due to unforeseen circumstances that I should’ve really seen. I’m not sure why I think I’m special, or different, or exempt from certain outcomes when human flaws present themselves. I have always felt as though I could touch anyone deeply if only I made the attempt.
I left Istanbul after three days. I spent the next several weeks unraveling to my core. I got to the end and am beginning to roll myself up again. The next time fate presents a challenge to my itinerary, perhaps my spidey senses will tingle. Perhaps not. One thing is for certain, that was a bad one boy.
It’ll leave a mark.