Death Race 2000, Sri Lanka

  Dec 25, 2016   Edmond

Location: Negombo Sri Lanka

Midnight came and went, before I knew it it was 230 and I had to go pack the rest of my shit, completely fucking sideways, cocaine still dripping, shirtless after giving my Mid Pacific tattoo shirt to Milinda. I was hustling my fucking ass off to get to my room, I had no rupee after spending it all on the coke and had no way to pay the fucking cabby. I threw on my freshly (and first time washed) Naked and Famous Jeans and threw on my tie and shirt and started jumping on my luggage to get it to shut. Nirmal was waiting still, wasted off his fucking tits and helped me grab my tattoo shit from the shop and off we went. I was trying desperately to sober up worried that they wouldn’t let me board the plane if I couldn’t walk straight. Maybe I had one or two too many diazepam and codeine along with everything else we were doing I was hell bent to make it a Christmas eve to remember. Fucking rock n roll man.

I pulled out a few of my Professor Edmond Harvard U. Cards for the just in case they jammed me for being so loaded as we raced through the streets of Colombo to the airport that was an hour away. While we did I put myself together, tied my fucking tie and all of a sudden I was that gang member Professor that was unstoppable…or so I thought. How fucking ominious, I wonder what could happen next?, would the fucking chimera come and fucking possess our hero?? Would he turn to ether and evaporate up to heaven and become the next disciple to worship??? Or would he finally fully become the fucking villain, and like a monstrous beast rise to destroy the earth and all its pathetic inhabitants?

Racing towards the airport getting dressed in the back of the cab.

With the attitude of the last son of Apollo the God that strikes from afar, I strutted high as fuck into that airport like I owned the fucking place, hustled my way through 3 checkpoints and gave my card to 3 different flight attendants that were hotter than any girl I’ve ever seen in any girlie magazine. I could hardly see straight. Wearing sun glasses inside at 4am in the airport, I didn't look suspicious at all but the tie and black shirt fooled them all.

I got to the Etihad counter and weighed my bags, handed over my passport and they welcomed me with smiles saying “good morning Professor Lovecraft.” I smiled and tried not to lean to far in any direction. I stood their for a while and they asked for my phone to see my codes and shit, then asked for my E-visa for India. I handed it over and the lady looked at me with the oh fuck eyes. Her oh fuck made my heart drop a little, here it came: “Im so sorry Professor Lovecraft but your visa entry date expired yesterday and we cannot let you fly to India. I blankly stared through my fucking Maui Jims, and stood silent, the chimera, the last son of Apollo, the holy Saint Edmond reduced to fucking ash over bureaucratic fucking nonsense. I asked what I could do in the least slurred speech I could muster, while I simultaneously reached for a handful of diazepam and started chewing them while the lady at the desk looked at me like I was the Sarlacc from Star Wars, if it had eyes anyway. She told me a million different ways I was fucked. It was Christmas, everything was closed, embassies, visa offices, anyone anywhere no one could help me. India was gone from me, I was so close I could swim there. I would have been screaming and pealing my own skin off if it wasn’t for all the chemical restraints. I tried for a few hours at the airport my hangover turning into being even more fucked up on pills.

I changed money for a horrible rate at the airport and grabbed a cab and found a little hotel close to the airport, it was super plush and an expense I couldn’t really afford knowing Id have to change flights, buy another flight and do whatever it was to keep moving, I spun the globe a few times and thought, wait. Don’t give in yet, don’t be a bitch Edmond, you’ve got a silver tongue forged by the gods. We can do this shit.

24 hours without sleep, high as all fuck on pill cocktails and on the phone from 5am all the way until about 4 in the afternoon. Finally I found a expedited Indian visa service and for the last $300 I had left on my card I made the gamble. Back in the clutch, where I have traveled so frequently. That place where it’s a barbers razor between horrible failure and fucking glory. I got on the phone with Etihad and started that hustle all over again. No money left on the card, no way to pay the fine for missing my flight I was told I could go and pay in cash at the airport. I jumped a tuk tuk and jammed back to the now fucking packed and jamming Christmas airport, snuck passed all the lines for security by spinning my yarns to one of the security officers.

I found my way to a locked door where the offices were for the airlines. Asked around and they said no one from Eithad would be back until 645. It was 445. Another handful of xanax and just sat there, waiting for this magical door to open.

I can’t wait for September to come, that time where everything seems to work right, that month I came into existence. The seasons begin to change and that wanderlust hits me like some neck breaking poisonous gas. I cannot wait to be home for that single month until October when my rockstar of a niece will turn three. Alone at the airport these are the things I think about when im not destroying my body dragging around all this tattoo bullshit and sweating through my fancy dress.

Finally a man came, an engineer who was no help, but kind enough to call a manager for me at his home to see if he could assist. He couldn’t, and in fact told me my whole trip to the airport was a waste of my time and money and advised me to just go and enjoy the Christmas fireworks. I thanked him and head hanging left the airport and ventured back to get on the phone.

I transferred some of my precious Bitcoin to my fathers bank account after waking him up on Christmas morning at like 3 am his time, I felt so guilty but my father, my hero, the God of my life greeted his son with kindness and compassion and said you know theres no time or no thing I wouldn’t do for you son. Fucking tears man. Every day I worry I will lose my Mom and Dad while I’m out here trying to do this shit. The horrible part about it? They understand what I’m doing better than I do and that divine understanding is something I will never be able to live up to. I’ll never be the parents they are, ill never be half the humans they are. I’ll never have as much of Apollo’s blood in me as my father, or his father before him. Edmond Lovecraft, Saint and the last son of Apollo, a shadow of his ancestors.

Credit card details in hand I got on the phone yet again with Etihad. This time my silver tongue had been sharpened after more diazepam and about twenty cups of the strong Sri Lankan tea. I booked the flight, and for pennies on the dollar and all my troubles and notes for how many minutes I had actually spent working on this shit the guilt trip paid off and I was upgraded to business class. Kiss kiss bang fucking bang.