Dallas fancies we can busk in the airport. Post Denver International Airport special ops clown terrorist squad run-ins, I’m not so sure. The six hour bus adventure through winding vines in wine country has corroded my excitement, with five hours before the impending twenty hour flight.
No! Twenty meters in to San Francisco International Airport and we’ve been made! Duck and weave! Evasive maneuver under a thirty pound backpack easier thought than accomplished.
Ahhh, yes. I sense, by the presence of additional neon circus toys and baggy tie dyed trousers, these may in fact be comrades in arms. Dallas makes contact and discovers we are all Bali bound, dispersing between the first annual Indonesian Juggling Convention, the Pirates Juggling Convention, Divine Playground Circus Free School, and Sacred Circularities Hoop Immersion. Bust out the props and start the pre-baggage check spin jam.
Glad to get the circus vibes flowing before a cute and confused China Airlines stewardess stares at the stack of hula hoops twenty thick, giggling that she has no way of dealing with this. Dallas is occupied with designing a security clear-able approach to dangling six bags off her body and making them appear as one. I find a man who wraps the props with a three mile stretch of cellophane. These hoops may never be round again.
The next check point is twenty agents deep. Our effort to dress “normal” is neutralized as we draw all eyes when Dallas decides we must opt out of the radio-active bomb box to avoid cellular level mutation. We are marked as rebels. Reporting for frisking and our bags have been pulled, both jars of nut butter removed and deemed criminally gelatinous. Dallas pulls multiple prescriptions from hidden pockets and speaks to the horrors of airline food. Almond butter surrendered, sunflower seed butter granted passage post vapor test.
Our plane leads the sunrise, no telling how many days have passed, sucking recycled air as we sit among small asian children with ear infections. Bali is a breath of fresh, thick, humid air. Tracy is at the airport to rescue us from transit madness, waiting with a car to take us from Denpasar to Ubud. Stories two months in Thailand long and more energy than I can imagine ever having again. At least until the jet lag wears off.
Thank you Sujatya for the general directions to Jalan Bisma, and the Hibiscus Inn. Three pairs of bare feet for the honeymoon suite.