A Rorscharch Couch
From an airport hotel in Canada. I see my mom…Freud…my mom….a train…my mom.
From an airport hotel in Canada. I see my mom…Freud…my mom….a train…my mom.
This is an out-of-the-ordinary post for us. This is from a guy with COVID who is in quarantine at a govt “Domestic Preparedness” facility. (He’s there on work) He described it as an “Army dorm but without the glitz.)
But apparently noses do. Run, that is. From an “inn” hotel in Wichita where the guest asks, “Snot or Not?”
From a woman who works in the Canadian film industry who was flying back to Vancouver from a wedding in Brazil and got bumped in Houston and put in some very very classy lodgings by the airline.
From a traveler in EXTREME northern Minnesota who couldn’t decide whether this was blood, barbecue sauce or urine from a seriously dehydrated guest.
This would explain why channels 4 through 209 were kind of fuzzy.
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