please pay me like you want me

i went to beantown yesterday. it started as a disaster and ended on a pier with an ice-cream cone in hand. the purpose of this visit was to interview with a man with a monotone voice to see if i was a most suitable candidate to manage his newspaper in cambodia. i was.
the day started in the imperial capital at an early hour in a beltless costume on the metro in foggy bottom (a stop at which both the illustrious orange and blues lines pay frequent visits). i had forgotten that different color 'tro lines had a habit of wandering off in diverging directions- and needless to say i entered a train on the wrong line. luckily i recognized the error of my ways at the penultimate stop on the blue line which advertises some destination known as franco-springphonia. i can't imagine what is out there. the suburbs have always filled me with a sense of horror. so i doubled back to rosslyn (similarly frightening) and waited for the orange line to whisk me off to West Falls Church. I left the comfort of the urban 'tro with sincere regret and great speed as to make a bus to the airport which was scheduled to leave at precisely one minute before i arrived. i didn't make it and i found myself in what can only be described as a developer's dream and a citizen's nightmare. a quick reminder that dc and its surroundings are revoltingly hot during the summer months. humidity causes sweat to pore from one's brow, back and shins (yeah, even shins) like a beading mint julep on an alabama porch. the developers of west falls church had clearly taken this into account and decided to plant a tree here and there, after having demolished the forests which had stood there since the mesozoic era. so there were three trees. and a hell of a lot of sun. unfortunately for me, none of the three trees was over four feet tall and my bus wasn't scheduled to arrive for another half hour. so i stood and i sweated.
the bus did come. but i was late and i missed my flight (security). i had to stand spread eagle and have some sort of sonar device caress my body for 10 minutes, while my plane was boarded, the doors were shut and the safety measures read aloud. i got on a flight 2 hours later and sat next to a lady with a penchant towards violently flipping pages of her in-flight magazine towards my face for the one hour and twelve minutes we were in-flight. i considered my patience (e.g. not grabbing the fucking thing and beating the hell out of her with it) a sign of maturity. we landed in beantown and i went to meet the man with the monotone voice to discuss our future together. he was a nice man. an interesting man. and i pretended to be so as well. we hit it off and began to discuss specifics. "i hate to ask such a question," i ventured in, "but , can you give me an idea as to how much i can expect to earn?" my face betrayed a look as if it wasn't something i was particularly concerned about, but felt i had to ask in case my girlfriend brought it up. "$1300." he said with a straight face. hmm. surely this would include transportation to and from, what my father recently referred to as the nebrahhska of asia... no. well, surely this would include room and board... no. surely i could make some money on the side doing freelance work... no. we would share it. he sensed my concern. "well," he knitted his brow, "as long as you don't waste it all away on beer, then you should be okay." FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!
damn right i will waste it all away on beer. and vodka. and grass. and ... well... you know. i'll need a girlfriend.
fuck.
so, if i end up in cambodia in a few months, please send beer, vodka, grass and girls. cuz i will be eating rice, drinking moonshine and once again considering girls with downy upper lips.