I just stole a pack of fig newtons from a news stand minimart in the Tampa Florida airport.

To be honest, this is the most fun thing that has happened today… I ate those fuckers hidden next to this big tropical Florida plant by my gate all fast-like and I looked like a diabetic kid sneakin’ sweets at camp. The Newtons were so crumbly and dry! (Cough!) And no stolen beverage! I need to steal my ass some nantucket nectar!

Guys! Dont call the fuzz! I’ve got a record! (public urination) I’m a perp! And besides, they’ve been stealing from me all day. When I say they…I mean airports etc..not the chaps that work at this chain newsstand. The guy who just checked me out at the counter looked like a Portuguese Kanye West… (I’m assuming Portuguese here…Who cares, he was somethin’ hot anyway! Am I right ladies!)

Honestly I probably would have made out with that cashier guy…If I had a few Chilis Mucho Margaritas in me. Not because I’m into guys…really….But more because I’ve been in this airport all fucking day and I’m gettin’ all weird from boredom and such…It’s probably why I Winona’d those fig newtons.

Portuguese Yeezy cashed me out because I bought Pretzels to cover up the stench of my crime. Rule number one for stealing stuff from airport minimart news stands is that you have to divert attention from the crime with a purchase…This is the third time I’ve stolen from airports so I’m pretty much the Clyde Barrow of airport snack theft, I just need a gun moll.

Serge can sum it up better than most.

Oh, did I mention I am gonna go get shitfaced on margaritas in the Tampa Chilis after I’m done typing this? ( It’s actually a Chilis Too…What the fuck is that?)

I’ve been in Tampa since noon, after my Charlotte flight came in late and forced me to miss my Miami flight, which linked to my Aruba flight that I’m now missing. The end game was  Paramaribo at midnight, my final destination, and where my hotel reservations etc…lie. That’s all over now though.

Now, I’m waiting for a 9 pm flight to Miami, where I stay the night and then fly to Port Of Spain, Trinidad to wait 12 hours before giving Paramaribo another shot tomorrow night. I’ve been charged baggage fees three times and now, since my bags are being checked all the way to Paramaribo and because the route is loopy and strange and riddled with huge gaps in time, my bags very well may get lost somewhere. This will be a disaster of which I can’t even fathom…So I’m trying not to think about it.

So I stole some Fig Newtons….And it wasn’t right, or even the right people to steal from, but it felt damned good. I’d do it again in a minute.

It’s best to stay positive, instead of complaining about stupid things that aren’t real problems. There are kids on the street who’d love some stolen Fig Newtons!

Fischerspooner’s playing in Miami Beach tonight and I called this club and somehow got on the guest list which seemed hilarious and much too easy.

Here’s how the conversation went:

Me: Hi there, ___ _____ here, I’m a music blogger (Meh…Sorta?) for a website called Drunken Suitcase. I was wondering if it wouldn’t be too late to get on the press list for Fischerspooner tonight?

Woman on phone: It’s too late to get on the press list, but we could just put you on the guest list.

Me: Ummm That’ll work..

Woman on phone: OK you’re on +1.

It’s fun to have no journalistic ethics! Who wants to go?!

Anyway, I have never been to Miami before and I don’t know how to get to this club but I’ll probably still go and just stay up all night…Even though I’m wearing these running shoes…And brown jeans… (I don’t know about clothes…stuff) and so I probably look pretty goofy. Everyone else my age in this airport have shirts that look like tribal tattoos and faux-hawks and frosted tips or something like that.

FASHION!

But I’ve been listening to this Fischerspooner song called “Emerge” that I remember loving when I was younger and things feel pretty good. I’ll drop my things off at some hotel and then I’ll unravel out into the humid night. Trinidad is my favorite country in the world and so tomorrow I will stuff my bags in a locker and take a maxi-bus into the capital and I’ll look out at the ocean and at the tin shack barbecues and I’ll eat chicken and drink Caribbean beer for a few hours before returning to the airport to blast back out into the dark and finally land in the strange wonder of Paramaribo.

It’s Friday and it’s carnaval no matter where you are. That’s a special thing.