Fog

It's weird getting back into the real world, where things like jobs and duties matter. If it wasn't for the pile of work waiting on my desk, I'd never have thought I'd left--like I'd just stepped into some parallel universe that allowed me to fire a gun my father brought back from Vietnam, watched my family crumble into broken sobs through my own tears, and drive and drive and drive.

I realize though, that once I get back on track and set into my old routine, things will feel a bit more normal and a bit less numb.

Here's to a good weekend.

Trip Pt. 4: Return to Vegas

That, my friends, is a urinal. Don't ask me why I had a camera in my pocket, but seeing as I did and no one else was in the the bathroom, I took a picture. And why shouldn't I have? This thing is bizarre. The only reason I even knew it was a urinal was from the small homemade sign next to it that said, "Urinal." Apparently this gas station wants its customers to piss in style.

There really isn't much else to report for the ride home. I was tired, we all were, yet I still stayed awake for the sake of my brother-in-law. (And for those of you rather tired of this trip report, don't worry, I'll finish up on Friday. More Gibberish tomorrow.)