The plan was for yours truly to fly into New York City tomorrow night, where Gordon and I would join forces and promptly BLACK THE FUCK OUT before meeting Sam in Rock Hill on Saturday. But then yours truly somehow screwed up his flight reservation, so the plan was altered. I was going to fly in tonight instead, where Gordon and I would join forces and promptly BLACK THE FUCK OUT TWICE before meeting Sam in Rock Hill on Saturday.
Then Delta effed everything up.
I'll spare everyone the grisly details -- all the readers need to know is that I'm writing this post in Pittsburgh. The end result is that I canceled my flights, and I'm driving to New York tomorrow morning instead.
Le Trois will not be stopped.
I anticipate the trip ending up something like this:
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I've yet to make the trip home, but in terms of getting here, it was almost the same minus the garbage.
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