Photon Essay

[mistah willies]

So where the hell is the rest of this tale?

I WANT MY MONEY BACK!

[booznik]

So where the hell is the rest of this tale?

I WANT MY MONEY BACK!

Very well, sir. The Urban Spaceman, Ltd. provides refunds in a number of currencies. You may choose from:

Austrian schillings
Belgian francs
Cypriot pounds
Dutch guilders
Estonian kroon
Finnish markka
French francs
Greek drachma
Irish pounds
Italian lira
Latvian lats
Luxembourgish francs
Maltese lira
Deutsche Marks
Monégasque francs
Portuguese escudos
Sammarinese lira
Slovak koruna
Slovenian tolar
Spanish Pesetas
Vatican lira

But since you are American, perhaps you'd prefer your refund be paid out in three-dollar bills?

For your convenience, we also offer checks, or cheques, made out of rubber.

Thank you for your patronage.

[Patchez]

If I have a refund coming, I'd prefer it in Spanish doubloons. If that is not possible I'll take it in full measure of my rum allotment.

[oettinger]

I`ll give you one hundred of these greek government securities

and you pay my next beer! Deal?

I mean, not running out of toilett paper is worth a drink or two

[booznik]

If I have a refund coming, I'd prefer it in Spanish doubloons. If that is not possible I'll take it in full measure of my rum allotment.

For you, Mr. Patchez, we'll open up the stash of dubloons. You'll find them in the chest over there. However, you'll have to lift 15 men off it to get to them.

Mr. Space, get back in here and write. This is costing your holding company money!

[The Urbane Spaceman]

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been intoxicated.

It’s true.

At each and every moment that has held any import at all, I’ve been intoxicated.

Not being a wealthy man, I have, however, found myself availed of the opportunity to imbibe at each step along the path. It is not luck, for simple luck is equivalent to winning a prize.

Instead, consider me to be a fortunate Drunkard. What this means is that I’ve truly never gone Thirsty, because an opportunity shows itself just when I’m down to my last dollar.

Perhaps that makes me an opportunist.

Now, before you Judge me, consider this: it takes elbow grease and brainpower, and no one gets hurt. I simply have to dance for my drink. And no, I am not a man whore.

Let’s go.








Travel in comfort, and a bit of style if you can afford it. Sweat pants and flip flops will not help the odds of you getting bumped up to first class. Some travel in suits, but those don’t travel well, especially when you have only one, and it smells of mothballs.

(I don’t really know how mothballs smell, because I’ve never been able to get their wee leg apart)

Pair of Levi’s and decent shoes will help. It’s the “Risky Business” look, from that 80’s flick. If you purchase a solid pair of dress shoes, I mean, ones that are made well enough to last more than a season, then good for you. If you wear them often, they could end up as comfortable as a pair of socks.









To protect them, get them professionally shined now and then. Tip very well. These guys will do a top notch job: it’s worth the small investment and it goes a long way.










Free drinks and larger seats await you if you know to get an ungrade without paying for it. There is a thread within this Tales forum of the mighty MDM website that will show you how. That’s not the purpose of this chapter. This one is about Drunkard traveling and drinking in style and comfort, at the expense of The Man.


Once through Insecurity, head to the nearest bar for a tall glass of Orange Juice. Belgium is lovely in the morning, so I’m told.








Make you calls as you will for the upgrades, do your work, but be mindful for a moment to chat with someone else who has the gonads (whether inside the belly or hanging low) to drink in the morning in an airport. We are all in this fight against the Drys together, and socializing in a pub offers great encouragement. But mind your boarding time.


Stay out of the cockpit. Especially if you are a pilot who has been drinking in the AM. MDM does not approve of operating a vehicle under the influence of any intoxicating substance. We endanger no one else with our pursuit, our past time, our pleasure, unless they want to purchase a round.









Find your seat, never place your carrion anywhere behind you, and await your next morning beverage.









(Ahem. This calls for a stiff drink. Be right back)




.

[booznik]

Well done, Sir Space. Perhaps the audience will stop calling for refunds now. A fine pictorally airportorial piece.

...Pair of Levi’s...

I have two pairs of Levi's that I've been wearing daily for probably a decade now, as a sort of blue jeans experiment. They started blue, and are now approaching the white end of the color spectrum. The store I bought them from went out of business in 2008. There are no other trousers with such a mix of comfort and durability. I may soon be forced to finally buy new ones, and I hope the quality has not suffered as much as I fear. Everything is made more cheaply these days.

never place your carrion anywhere behind you

This is sound advice. The vultures behind you will certainly covet your carrion.

[mistah willies]

Ayuh,

They making them 501's again. Now just need my Sperry Topsiders to go along with them. But them buttons, oh, them friggin buttons...

Now don't take friggin weeks to keep this going dude. Get it all out!


Jeez

[oettinger]

501s rule, quality still the same booz. Prices reaching new highs around here though.

Photon guy, my cowboy boots need a redo also, can`t be worn in the wet anymore.
Ever tried boarding with this fine leathering?

[The Urbane Spaceman]

Shoot 'em up, shoot them down,

and do shots of Ethyl.

Always.

Crimson Permanent Assurance building will carrion with billowing sails.



To wit:


The occasion to pour a drink should not be taken lightly. The nectar of the Gods is a blessing, indeed.

It is a luxury to sit in public and sip.


Such a privilege must never remain under-appreciated. Protect our privilege to imbibe in places outside of the man-cave, or woman-nest, as it may be.


However, To Drink is not a simple privilege.

To Drink is a gods-given human right, and such a thing must never be suppressed nor oppressed upon by any person, organization, or otherwise imposing bastard.

(Well, unless you are underage or are deemed to have become inebriated to the point of putting anyone in danger…)

We reserve the Right to Drink!

*sip*


(Ahhh. Nice burn there.)


Ok, let us sally forth, and doesn’t Sally look lovely tonight. I’ll take a sip of her as well tonight.


Ahem.


Next stop upon your path indicates more of the orange juice. Now, there are interesting bottles beyond your new lovely friend, but should you?









The answer is always YES.

However, two things:

One. Be mindful of your next leg/ boarding time. Unless you are the sort of traveler who has time to spare.

Two. Offer to purchase the bar tender a drink. In an airport, they can’t accept (fuck them cameras) but the offer is always appreciated. So, simply tip well.


Always tip well. Indeed.


Set your watch back in time as you pass across time zones in this almighty and also fucking huge country. Guess what?

You have moved back in time.

You have many more hours to drink. It was meant for you, by the power of them gods of booze.











Here is the end, with dark curtains. Always be mindful that travel day is the opportunity to drink across several time zones, and the day is long, but the night is short.

Now, before the end of this marvelous day, unpacked my only suit, moth-bitten as it might be, and then I received a telephone call to come join some Drunkards whom had been awaiting my arrival there, in the at the end of the country. The other end.

I make my home at the beginning, in the east.


This is what happened.

There were folks awaiting me upon my eventual arrival at the hotel that hosted our scientific conference. Sir Ashley had yet to arrive. What a damned shame. So I held court for his absence, and drank his share in tribute to my ole friend.

I was shown to the penthouse pub. I have no idea if this thing is a secret in all fine hotels, but perhaps them excellent hotels do, indeed, hold this close to their heart and their purse, or wallet, as it may be.



We made our own drinks.




Yes, we made our own drinks, until the sky glowed with the blue of “you need to get up in a few hours.

But first, here is a photonic image of the Martini I made

---get this---

without a proper martini glass.












Others had wine, some had neats on the rocks, and one held a chalice of pure Trace. Amen.


Now, a tasty beer is proper for the morning, and is a benevolent version of water, (between very strong drinks of almost pure booze). But it must be said that when you drink, why use a chaser? Savor the burn, yes indeed. It takes copious practice.










Do you see, we paid with honesty. We wrote our own tabs.


I don't even know how they ma---









Here is the Library of our intoxication. We had many good reads.








































Indeed, the sky began to turn that ugly color of blue, which means that them birds will chirp and them dogs will stare, barking, and you feel the dark Tea-Time of the Soul.


But, fuck daylight.



DRINK!











Until the daylight.









Thank the hotels for installing their heavy shades ofr your three hours of sleep in your hotel tomb.










Tomorrow is always another day to drink.





Tahoo






.

[booznik]

Fine images and advice there, Mr. Space. I could look at pictures of liquor all day. Extra points for Python reference.

What an urban spaceman might look like:

[mistah willies]

ARRRRRRRRRRR!



Gawdayam fine bottle there laddie









ARRRRRRRRRRR!