Location: Mumbai Airport
After my success with the airlines and a flight less than 24 hours off I got to work, writing like a mad man until I couldn’t fight the hunger anymore. On my way down I decided to get a quick massage from the hotel before dinner, figuring I had earned it. I was bummed it was closed but the porter sent me 100 meters down the road and said there was a nice place down the road. I asked if it was clean? He said “yes yes clean clean.” I wasn’t looking for a handjob, just wanted to relax, I walked in the dark and almost got flattened by every car that drove by. Christmas in Sri Lanka is more like the 4th of July in America. Everyone is wasted and blowing shit up, fireworks booming and kids running around with sparklers. I found the first massage sign and assumed it would be the only one on the road in the pitch black, which in retrospect should have figured out.
2500 rupee and I was handed a towel and told to shower. I did, the place was dark and the girls were pretty cute. Too late now I thought, I was gonna see if I could control my erection and just enjoy the massage. I laid down and the towel immediately came off and my ass was being massage and the girls fingernails were lightly brushing up against my balls. I just kind of giggled and tried to do math in my head to resist, and for the first 30 minutes I held true and by doing multiplication in my head keeping my dick from getting hard.
She flipped me over and as I tried to covered myself she slapped my hand and said no. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as I answered and said “im fine, thank you.” She laughed at me, knowing no man could resist. And in the end she won and honestly it was the best handjob I’ve probably had next to this girl named Liz that gave me a world class dry handjob in the back seat of a car in middle school on the way to the movies. Anyway, the villain came out, I don’t pay for sex, but every now and again, I think a handjob is probably fair game as long as the ladies aren’t slaves.
After my disappointing lack of restraint, I wrote until my vision went blurry and finally fucking caught up with all the mad shit that happened while in Sri Lanka. This was the garden of Eden, yeah I went biblical there, fuck the bible, every last bit of it, but it’s the only way to illustrate how wonderful this place is. Food that makes you want to never eat again because it will never be as good. People that cant help but smile, kind people, helpful people. Green country, gorgeous beaches and nothing but possibilities. around every corner. I found two brothers in Milinda and Nirmal, I have added them to the insane world network of people I consider my family, my heart spanning continents with no borders. No visa required.
Christmas night for me was nothing special, except that I got to call home to speak with my family, most special was talking to my niece, I was amazed that since only October she was forming full sentences and able to communicate with me, asking me where I was and all the wonderful things Santa had brought her in her stocking. She said she loved me, she said rock n roll and all I could think about it how the fuck I was gonna afford all the music lessons she was going to need and how difficult it has been so far to be away from this special part of her life.
Morning I woke up with the sun and to messages from one of my best friends Cinderella Sandra, her boyfriend had broken up with her on fucking Christmas day, so I put in the call and did the Saintly pep talk and got her back to sounding like herself and not balling her poor eyes out. She was so fucked up about it she didn’t even go to her family Christmas (which is like a 30 people deep and a huge deal to their family) we spoke for a couple hours, until she needed to sleep and I had to get my shit going, I couldn’t let this time waste.
I went to the beach in Negombo, which was a completely different experience from the beaches in the south and the beach near Mount Lavinia. I hired a tuk tuk and shot into town, with my bags still at the airport all I literally had was smart airline dress. I bought shorts that were too small and a ridiculous tank top and rolled out looking like a proper tourist minus the sunburn and stumbling & idiocracy. I felt pretty guilty once I got to the beach, I didn’t tell the boys I was still in Sri Lanka, but it was the opportunity I needed to catch up on all this writing and madness and the blog plus another few projects I have on the books at the moment. So I just wandered the beach for a while, had a bout 100 locals ask for photos with me and I obliged of course, they absolutely go nuts for my tattoos. Some even holding their little kids up in the photos with me. Shit makes me laugh, and they almost always they do it respectfully, sometimes you can tell theyre talking shit in their language but I just smile I appreciate how shitty it must be to be famous.
Back at the hotel, I extended my stay until 4 pm check out, took a Provigil and a valium with my tea and started furiously working. The words were flowing from my fingers like a fucking rapper…like RA the fucking Rugged Man, words blasting out from my brain like an anti gravity heat seeking space bazooka, crushing my blog crushing my emails it was like I was one of the Hindu or Buddhist Gods that had so many hands. I started to actually see the end of it where mother fuckers can actually read all this mad shit I dedicate my time to spilling on these pages. Soon the TravelVillain.com Beta version will be up and running.
I smoked by the pool for a bit of some sun, then back at it and continued until 4, when I took my shit from my room, went to the restaurant where I continued to work and ordered dinner and more caffeine. My fingers moving like fucking lightning bolts and I was getting the ideas and experience of everything it is that I do down on paper. Which is basically just talking shit in writing. My mom always says that my writing always gets me in the most trouble. I adore writing and getting the opportunity to put fantastic ideas out there, usually writing in exotic places and the magic of this spinning rock in space and all the wild chemical imbalances in my brain that make my views worth reading about.
My food came and I typed and worked until my fingers hurt and I was pushing the limits on making it to the airport on time in order to take advantage of the executive lounge. Finally after being told my driver twice I packed up and wished to the Gods that I didn’t pay all that money for this emergency visa and have it be a fucking hustle or some shit. Which wouldn’t be a bad idea for a dishonest person. I had to pass security 2 more times, hustle my tattoo machines through which was probably the easiest its ever been, in fact the security guard asked me if I had time to tattoo him then and there. Then, finally, I made it to buy some Marlboros at the duty free, got into the lounge, bashed back a couple teas, then a fucking cocktail or 3 with a couple handfuls of Provigil and Diazapam before heading to fucking gate security for a 3rd time to actually board the aircraft. With so much speed in my system I couldn’t shut the fuck up and was probably friends with near every person in the waiting room before they called for the premiere passengers to board.
Finally on board my seat was lovely and the attendants didn’t disappoint, gorgeous, dark yet fair skinned Indian ladies that one could marry in a beat of the heart. Dressed in that brightly colored fashion that let just a little bit of their ribs show. They had a cold towel and a glass of wine in my hand so fast my head spun and I was in fucking love. My computer was out and I was writing again, taking handfuls of more pills with my wine, this shit was gonna be fun.
Still a total mess with no sleep, but in first class, no one seem to pay any mind.
It was a shame really that the flight was so short, only 3 hours to enjoy the first class and keep writing with such enthusiasm then get shell shocked when I would have to pick up my bags in Mumbai, enter through customs in India, check my bags back in and spend the entire night layover in the (hopefully) wonderful executive lounge in Mumbai.
We took off and next to me sat a nice young lady name Dinisha from Mumbai who was kind enough to fill me with advice, foods to try and some great basic knowledge and tips for traveling in India. She also told me about an Indian adventure about a river in the north that freezes over and you hike down the frozen river and sleep on blankets on the river. Sounds fucking bonkers, and horribly cold, maybe that little bit of knowledge was the only reason that my flight from the day before had been so fucked up. Foolishly, I thought my troubles were all over and my coming travel would be easy breezy. We landed so shortly after and i was in India, finally.