if i end up sitting beside of one of those ****ing americans who just can't shut their mouths for trying, i have my story all planned out. it's the kelly story: i'm the illegitimate love child of a vietnamese prostitute off to america with a faded twenty-dollar bill in my pocket to look for my long-lost identical twin. using this story has two conceivable benefits over the truth. one, my seatmate may actually shut up in bewilderment. two, s/he may be a dot com billionaire and shower me with riches unimaginable.

time for a nap.