Imagine you stayed in a medium-priced hotel, somewhere financially-conservative people between 40-70 stay. The grandmas do their hair before leaving their room. It’s almost 09:00 and you decide to go downstairs and see just how shitty the free breakfast is. Now wave at me—that’s where I am. Cheap-ass tablecloths and all.

I am eating yogurt and muesli, listening to the radio, trying to come up with a joke to express how disgusting I find Adele’s music…until suddenly I find myself bobbing my head. Now I’m embarrassed and probably blushing though I’m the only one in the room.

There’s a sign (framed piece of computer paper) on the walls between each floor that has a traffic light on it. The traffic light somehow signifies the calm, normal and rush hour of the hotel’s breakfast lounge. It is rush hour and I am the only one indulging in hard-boiled eggs and sliced tomatoes. According to the sign, there was a chance I might’ve had to wait to even get a table. I guess I’m just a lucky guy in general.

When I imagine hell I envision the opposite of the traditional Christian eternal flames. I envision an infinite winter, chilly winds and wearing a scarf that covers all but one portion of my neck, that tiny segment constantly stinging with each gust of brittle air. This is similar to what it’s been like since I arrived in on my grand European adventure. I thought I might find somewhere I would like to live but I could never live in a country that oppresses its people by allowing such a dismal climate. From looking at weather reports it seems the European Union is failing to reign in Mother Nature and control the weather for the comfort of it’s citizens. That is probably why everybody on the subway coughs and plays with nose tissues all day. Thankfully I am from America where the streets are made of gold, everyone knows Kobe Bryant (and every movie star, president and pop singer) and we encourage global warming. Warm people are happy people.

The Final Countdown just ended and it has been followed by a song with a flamenco intro. I believe this radio station’s premise is playing no two songs in a row that 1) were recorded in consecutive decades, 2) touch remotely on a scale of genres. If that is their goal then they are an excellent radio station.

I catch myself glancing at my watch though I really don’t care what time it is—I never have anywhere to be. I live in a quasi-dream world, doing everything I think seems cool, finding out that about three-fourths of things I think will work turn out to be nightmares. Generally these are very expensive and embarrassing lessons. Maybe that’s what I’m passionate about. Anyway, I don’t care what time it is. I wear the watch because one of my best friends gave it to me and it reminds me of her and of my time in China, how small things eventually come around and can fill my life with amazing experiences. The one-fourth pushes me to be hopeful despite the crushing weight of my former great ideas.

This hotel has an elevator. I never would’ve guessed that. I don’t think the owners of this place think of things that make their hotel worth visiting, but if they did I believe their strategy to draw people in and distract them from the actual price-to-performance ratio of the hotel would be to advertise the rooms come with slippers, the stairwell on the second floor has an automatic shoe shiner and there is an elevator. As a staff, they score 6.5 in the looks department ((7+5+5+5)/4), featuring one cute and three acceptable-looking girls. Those rankings have been defined in my new e-book The Objectification of Women: A Qualitative Analysis Via the Point System, Volume I. If you are interested in purchasing it, please contact me. It is the first part of a more technical follow-up to my earlier work Women Are Objects: Arrow, Daggers and Passionate Misery Manifested.

I realize some of my friends probably won’t think that was funny.

Well, I find myself swirling this cup of tea around, watching the sediment be carried in circle. I’m going to go before I get too philosophical. Time for another big day of wandering aimlessly around, hoping to get hit by a train, oblivious while listening to a peaceful tune by American recording artist James Taylor.

Ciao!!