If I remember correctly, I was in a cinnamon scented bathroom when I realized I was really fucked. I laughed at the urinal, cackling like some maniac- luckily I had the shitter to myself, elsewise I could have had my ass committed. 

To be honest, it wasn’t that I was totally fucked, or even partially fucked at that particular moment. That moment was pretty great to be honest. I was in a nice bar with good beer and a stunning view of the sun setting over the Patagonian Andes. More it was the sinking feeling that the course of my life was starting to move beyond my control. I had become caught in a current that was bearing me straight and true into a tempest. I knew it was coming, I knew that ‘fucked’ would be my fate in no time, but the die seemed to be cast. 

I laughed in that menical way knowing that I had gotten myself into this shit storm entirely knowing that it would be a shit storm. No one had hoodwinked me, no one had sold me some silky line of shit that I’d bought and ended up down the river sans a paddle. No. The exact contrary. I knew at every step of the way, in each decision both micro and macro that this was a bad idea, and I’d walked, with a shit eating smirk, straight into a shitty situation. 

I’d been living in Patagonia for the last bit and had come to love the mountains. The endless sky and the glorious pinks and purples on the mountain side that greeted me in the morning and shared a beer with me when the sun retreated west. The cool, crisp air suited me- much to my surprise. Small town life had long seemed to me to be roughly akin to drowning in molasses. I’d never even considered it, but pandemics change the variables on life’s equations and I gave it a gamble. 

As much as I’d come to enjoy my moments here, I, like an idiot, decided to leave my job, give up my abode and set my feet upon the road of adventure. Now this was one of my great loves, and something that I’m sure I’d come to view as a great idea years hence when the struggles had been fought and the whole event could be viewed with the rose tinted glasses of nostalgia, but in that moment I couldn’t help but laugh. 

Maybe it was because the shitter smelled like Big Red, or maybe it was because I knew that I was potentially giving up a good deal for the chance to ride the adrelinan pony for another lap, I can’t really be sure. Either way it’s moments like that when life seems to spin around you, when the events seem to be out of control, when everything that seemed like a halfway decent idea is cast in new light and seems batshit crazy. All I could do was shake the drops off my cock, flush and wash my hands. If I’ve scheduled my ass a pony ride, might as well saddle up, spur that son of bitch on and ride. 

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