Tiptoe on the Misty Mountain Tops

Another night, another flight. The familial connections strike gold once more as the airfare out West totals $19 as opposed to $620. Glorious.

The last trip from here to there occurred on the memorable and historic 060504. Now I must see off Gongshow to his marital end in style, ye olde Ship and Anchor at your service, and also to breathe in the majestic air of the Banff moutains in walks among the clouds.

MARK ANTONY
Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish;
A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air:
thou hast seen these signs;
They are black vesper's pageants.

EROS
Ay, my lord,

MARK ANTONY
That which is now a horse, even with a thought
The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct,
As water is in water.

EROS
It does, my lord.

MARK ANTONY
My good knave Eros, now thy captain is
Even such a body: here I am Antony:
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt: and the queen,
--Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine;
Which whilst it was mine had annex'd unto't
A million more, now lost,--she, Eros, has
Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-play'd my glory
Unto an enemy's triumph.
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
Ourselves to end ourselves.

Ah yes - to be lost amidst clouds fickle and insubstantial. On a TFI at that. Yes. For, like Paris, is not our favorite festive day a moveable feast? See you tonight old man. My first rum and coke shall be at 35,000 ft above the prairies.