Am at the Hilton. Feeling oh-so-pretentious.
I don't belong here. I'm a barbarian. A swamp rat.
And I'm coming down with bronchitis and the flu. Coughing up blood into their expensive foot-long paper napkins. Accumulating a pile of soggy catering napkins to my left.
I asked for the softer serviettes. My nose is red enough as it is, that I fear some deluded evangelists or Mormons might strap me to a sleigh or something.
I asked for tea. Hot, and by the pot. My sinus is blocked and to pay for the buffet would be a waste.
Throat burning. Eyes watery. And I got my feet up.
Wearing rubber sandals. And shorts.
Hmmm. My feet - the skin is molting. Peeling, actually. Molting would suggest that I'm a dragon or something.
Ahh...the tea's arrived. Earl Grey. I press the hot cup to my throat.
Feels like I need to take my lungs out and hang them to dry for a while.
Only smoked one measly cigarette in the past hour. To keep from coughing my lungs out.
Need to get me some bernadryl...soon.
