Monday, March 20, 2006

Message in a Bottle

If you find this post, please let my family know my final thoughts are with them, and tell my oldest son to destroy my porno collection on the home computer's hard drive.

I am now entering into the fourth day of my meteorologically-enforced exile in Quaqtaq. Feeling like a member of the Franklin Expedition, I have an overpowering sense of doom, like Fate has thrown snake eyes and isn't even bothering to cast the dice again.

I went up to the today airport with a heart full of hope of finally getting home, the weather being passable. But the cloud ceiling soon fell and all I could hear was the drone of the engines passing overhead somewhere in the clouds.

To add to my woes, I have been turfed out of my hotel room since other guests magically appeared from another flight eventually heading to a different destination. They had the reservations for today, and I had none. So off to the couch in the common room I must needs repair, and try to pass yet another lonely night away from the bosom of my family and those I hold so dear.

Topping that, the sewage tank is full, so we have eight in the building with no functioning toilet. And the guy who drives the sewage removal truck is similiarly stuck, but in another town. I had a slash outside against the hotel wall last night, but as the sky is now brightening to a depressing grey, that option's now out.

I have just consulted today's weather forecast, and the winds will pick up in the afternoon just to coincide with the arrival of the next homeward bound flight. My spirits are sinking, and I feel strangely old.

But the last nail in the coffin was from two of my readers who were too callous to even buy me a drink, drawing some perverse delight in my suffering. To you I say: fuck right off you unfeeling bastards. Revenge will come when you least suspect it.

7 Comments:

Blogger amaruk-nanuk said...

Good Morning Nanuk
Reason for not buying you a drink is that you are in Quaqtaq, a place that is high and dry and very religious. I didn't want to see you burnt by the savages of that community for being under the influence. You soon should be home hopefully today as the weather is breaking and then you can drink til your heart is content. See you soon and the local pub in the near future.
Have a memoriable stay in Praise the lord land.

8:33 AM  
Blogger nanuk said...

Dear A.M.: I am beyond redemption at this point. I am getting on the next plane and I don't give a shit where it's going. I just know from deep experience that when the home weather improves it gets bad here. At least the alternative, Kuujjuaq, is there.

10:23 AM  
Blogger Fuff said...

Great read, very funnily written blog.

6:23 PM  
Anonymous the_posgene_kid said...

You can kill the caribou, then slit it open and climb inside the carcass to keep warm.

That sounds like a no-star hotel, what is the motif, early tar paper shack?

9:52 PM  
Blogger The Wrath of Dawn said...

I would gladly buy you a drink, but wouldn't it be a tad stale by the time you get out of Dodge?

Hope the weather clears soon and you get home. Life in the frozen North. It's not for the feint of heart.

10:16 PM  
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7:35 AM  
Anonymous terry said...

I think in the visual arts, the loss of Franklin's expedition inspired a number of paintings in both the United States and Britain
buy a term paper

10:28 AM  

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