A Man, a Girl, a Deserted Island - - A Crazy Epic Love Saga

Episode 10: The Fatties Won't Leave Me Alone

I'm at the airport, and for the second time, I've got both kidneys with me. I'm such a lucky guy!

Ana didn't warn me that her younger sister is as big as a tractor. Somehow I managed to escape the room and run down the stairs without fracturing any bones. Now that's what I call quick thinking!

I carefully examine the departure and arrival board.

Frankfurt?

Bleah! No, thank you. 

Germans are such cold people; you feel like your balls are freezing when you talk to them. Well, I don't personally know any Germans, but I don't need to. I'm informed! I've seen tons of documentaries about the Second World War. Frankfurt sucks!

Palermo?

Mmm... I don't know, maybe? It's a wonderful idea, but... not right now. Maybe some other time. If it weren't December, who knows...

Anyway, Italian women are fiery. I know that for sure. I once saw an Italian porn movie, and it was 'solid.'

Plus, the Italians in the south have some pretty cool orange plantations. Yummy! And there are also yachts and wonderful coves with crystal-clear waters and probably boats with rowers softly singing O Sole Mio in your ear.

Two years ago, I saw an art film. It was shot right in southern Italy, and it was superb!

Wait a minute, Tiberiu... that movie ended badly. Remember!

 There was a scene where a positive character gets hit on the head with a negative oar, then has an anchor tied to his feet and is thrown overboard.

How can you be so reckless, man? No, no! It's out of the question to go to Italy!

Where's Dubai on this board?

Stop, Tiberiu, stop! But why on earth are you looking for Dubai? Why? Because Ana told you to?

Don't you know that women's advice should always be applied inversely? When a woman tells you to go to Dubai, that means you should run in the exact opposite direction. It's as clear as day.

Half an hour later, I have a one-way ticket to Thailand in my pocket. 

Oh, yes, to Thailand!

My ticket is only for one way. I'd be crazy to ever want to come back.

I'm calm.

I'm at peace with the idea of my definitive and irreversible departure. In fact, I have a never-ending peace within me. I feel like a monk who, after fifty years of fasting and prayers, has received the grace of the Holy Spirit.

Now that I've seen my ticket in my pocket, I don't know if it's because of Ana's pills, but everything moves slowly through the airport. It's like a replay. In slow motion. People, suitcases, even the announcements from the speakers move like honey in a barrel.

I raise my hand and look at it. Wooow! I didn't know my hand was so interesting. Such delicate fingers!

I analyze it for minutes on end or hours or weeks. I think I could analyze it a lot more, but right now a voice from above tells me that I need to head to the boarding area.

And things start moving much faster. I encounter a chubby customs officer who questions me. She seems upset because she has nothing to check on me.

"How so?" she asks for I don't know how many times. "You don't have any luggage?"

"No," I reply calmly.