Little Did He Know

12pm, Friday March 21st

A tattooed, tired man sits in a bar at the airport, waiting for his ride. He's wearing ratty old slacks and a t-shirt with a message that, if you understand it, is a good laugh (and one that's not worth explaining if you don't). In contrast, he's wearing a nice rabbit felt pork pie hat that is the height of fashion. Such the fashion that people around him don't get it and pass him strange glances. Or maybe those glares are due to the big bull ring looking steel piece in his nose...

Who knows really? Who cares.

He doesn't, he's content with immersing himself in the world of his small electronic device, in to which he is thumbing a message to the world. To be broadcast to all, but swallowed by the void. Immersing himself in that damned de-"vice"... and... and also his beer, of course. Of course. Yeah, of course. Well, to be fair, he is destined for Belgium after all.

Destined for Belgium. On a 12:30pm flight that was of course delayed 'till 1. "Or at least that's their story now," he thought, "the first delay is never the last..."