Culture Shock

Where am I? I've been transported by Warbelow's in 65 minutes to another world. One where you need cash, a car and a cell phone.

When I got home last night, the drunk who rode behind me from Ft. Yukon staggered out and told anyone who would listen, "I just got here. I got no money but I'm hungry. I should get my PFD check soon". I might have had a more sympathetic ear had he not laughed hysterically from behind me for about half of the trip delivering his aura and attacking my senses over my prepaid seat.

I walked from the VocEd building to the airport last night so I could get some fresh air before the long ride and after the long day. The kids flew home and I cleaned up the room and packed up. I arrived at the airport at 6:10 but the door was locked. I pounded on it and it was opened by the agent who said, "Who are you?" followed by "the plane will be here in 5 minutes". Then he proceeded to lock himself out of the terminal. Deb brought my bags in time though and I got on. A young mother of twins got off. The proud Grandma told me that it was the third set of twins in 2 years in Ft. Yukon, a statistic I found amazing.

It's about 45 degrees and slippery outside. I grocery shopped (I said yes to veggies), did some banking and went to the library. I deposited a check that didn't quite cover my losses from the stock market this week. It took me 10 days to earn what I lost in 4. I intend to go for a long walk and maybe take in a play tonight. It's good to be home.