It’s the last day of my 20s. The title of this blog has been unashamedly borrowed from Douglas Adams and here I’m going to borrow another of his deliciously pithy phrases: Don’t Panic.
The day starts properly when Chandler, goofing around, cuts his face on the salt of his giant pretzel and bleeds on it. The first injury of the day — and there will be many.
You know what a really great dating app would do? It would scan your Google search history for all your weird musings and secret questions then match you with someone who’s been equally curious about the same things. Or, if not possible, at least match you with someone who is at essentially the same level of weirdness as you.
A not-particularly-coherent and a little messy post from Emirates airline seats over the Indian Ocean and Saudi. Consider skipping this post and waiting for the next one, which will be set in Jordan and probably quite funny.
Some helpful tips, from my smug and wise 2014 self, to my 2015 self.