In Craig Thompson's Carnet de Voyage (which I read in a sitting on the night that I woke up and vomited for a couple of hours, but I'm 99% sure that had nothing to do with the book), there's this part where he gets homesick and splurges on an expensive hotel that's supposed to make him feel like a rockstar. (Leonard Cohen has stayed there, I guess.) He ends up crying himself to sleep, but the point of the story is that I'm a big fan of splurges in those rare instances where it turns out that money can, in fact, buy happiness. (Maybe it's because Let's Go turned me into a die-hard budget traveler who's loathe to spend $5 on a meal, but it's true.)
Anyway, after walking across town, shopping at a labyrinthine market for two and a half hours, and spending an hour searching fruitlessly on 5 de Mayo for a copy of the weekend International Herald Tribune (thanks for nothing and I'll see you in hell for that tip, Rough Guide), I bought myself a good-job Java Chip Frappucino and I'm not going to apologize because it was delicious and magical and even though it cost more than the four-course comidas corridas that I've been having for lunch most days, it was entirely worth it. I'm either reinvigorated or jacked on caffeine, but either way, I'm intrigued by this consumerist self-medication thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment