My hotel room in Ft. Worth.

12-15-2009
Sitting in the SeaTac airport writing this. There is nothing else I can do to get ready. It’s happening, really happening. This is all so exciting, I feel guilty I am leaving so much work for my wife, but I am looking forward to the challenge ahead. I already miss Finn! It’s been a little rocky already; the itinerary they sent me said I could bring one checked bag (no more than 50lbs). But when I got to the counter they charged me for my bag. What the eff?
On the plane and Bob Dylan is the best traveling music. It’s sad and rough and full of an inevitable joy and bitterness. I have always thought of tattoos as a test of my own character, can I endure, will I endure? I never know until the needle sinks in the first stroke. It feels hot and slow, like a knife that you know won’t go deep but will cut you. That’s kind of what this plane ride feels like, the first stroke. I know it will change me forever, but in what ways?
I landed in Dallas/Ft. Worth and am at the hotel now. I was the third and last stop on the super shuttles route. It took about an hour and a half to drop the other couple out in the subburbs and some businessman at his hotel down town. They made awkward small talk with each other the whole time then the driver waited for it to just be the two of us and told me that in Africa he did all kinds of construction and how much was I going to make? How could he get a construction job in Afghanistan?
I am about to go to bed. I have the heat turned up and blowing right on me, fantastic.