Notes on Being Mr. Beef

The disguise was a neon hat and mirrored sunglasses. That's it. That's the whole disguise.

I walked into the airport and a security guard looked at me and said, "Boarding pass?" and I handed him a fish market receipt. He squinted at it. He squinted at me. He said, "Have a nice flight, Mr. Beef."

I don't know what to do with this information. Either airport security is worse than I thought, or I'm better at being a human than I expected. Neither option is comforting.

The plane seat was not designed for someone with my centre of gravity. I sat down and immediately slid forward. The woman next to me asked if I was comfortable and I said, "I'm a sheep on a plane, Sandra. Comfort left the building three chapters ago."

She didn't ask any more questions.