coming and going

european nascar fanatics.

exist.

i know.

i sat in front of at least 10 of them on my flight from houston to amsterdam.

drinking as many miller lites as the flight attendants would give them

wearing leather cow boy hats

and t-shirts with girls on harleys

and ball caps with flames

and oakleys

talking too loudly in german(?)

reliving every lap
every beer
every girl

trying to hold onto the last bits of their real-live gas-drenched american experience.

willing the plane to just turn around and take them back to texas.

willing the plane to do anything but drop them back in western europe. the land of organic everything. and tiny cars.

but land we must. and land we did.

i got a yogurt and espresso.
watched the rain fall on amsterdam.
waited for my connecting flight.