"The world is not a lodging-house at Brighton, which we are to leave because it is miserable. It is the fortress of our family, with the flag flying on the turret, and the more miserable it is the less we should leave it."
-G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy
This here blog is a glimpse or two or three at the condition of the 'fortress of our family' through the eyes Timothy Goddard, a Christian writer with an unhealthy interest in politics living in the Puget Sound area.
From "Chicks Dig Scars" And now for something completely different, as they say. Continuing Bright Orange Sweater-Coat month, I bring you an excerpt from the short story "Chicks Dig Scars," possibly the most purely entertaining piece in the whole book.
Chicks Dig Scars
“If nothing else,” I muttered to no one in particular (certainly not to the comatose drunk below me who kept muttering Spanish curse words in his sleep), “when this is all over I’ll be able to say that I spent the night in a Mexican jail.” To be honest, that was little comfort. It was, on the other hand, more comfort than the cobblestone walkway masquerading as a mattress on which I had slept that night. I use the term “slept” very loosely. The worst part was, I still had six days of spring break left.
I had, at one point, been planning to go to Florida for spring break. But since starting school at my Christian liberal arts college that fall, I had been feeling a lot closer to God and whatnot, so I figured that Florida might not be the best environment to put myself in. Somehow, though, Mexico seemed more acceptable? Have you ever had those times when you just want to go back in time and slap yourself upside the head? The time on the cobblestone mattress was one of those times.
Though admittedly, I did at least have grounds for thinking a trip to Mexico would be more responsible, if nothing else. Shaky grounds, mind you, but grounds. The grounds originally came in the form of a flyer in my campus mailbox one winter morning. “$1755 and a free trip to Mexico!” it advertised loudly. “Great résumé builder! Meet fun people! More money than a campus job!” it added. An obscure hotmail email address was the only contact information. Really, the shady nature of the flyer itself should have clued me in to the fact that something was a little odd, but no. Again,one of those times. At that point, I would have just settled for meeting someone fun. Paco, my incredibly smelly cellmate, might have been fun the night before, but now he was just smelly.