Buy a beer for that man who travels. It doesn’t need to be a craft beer. Maybe the same brand as he wears on that singlet under his old plaid shirt.
Buy a beer for that man who treasure experiences over gadgets. A hand-made bracelet over a Rolex. Chup-shish over truffles, and Efes over a Bordeaux. Quick, buy a beer for that man who’s already packing when he hears the words ‘vacation’, ‘travel fair’, or ‘resort’.
The seat belt sign lighted. A disembodied voice, fighting roaring engine, announced a turbulent ahead. I belt-up. And for no reason, snippets of Mr. Mister’s ‘Broken Wings’ played in my head.
I was on Mandala’s morning half-past-ten flight to Denpasar airport, Bali, Indonesia.
Above: The Jokhang Temple in Tibet.
It takes you at night. Or it takes you early in the morning.
It takes you from your birthday party. Tells you to leave your candles at your cake.
It takes you without warning, or it gives you fifteen minutes to say goodbye.
It takes you with your family’s blessing. It takes you unwilling. And it might take you alone. Read the rest of this entry »