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Uggh. It's too early to get up for Day 2. Must go back to sleep.
Okay, in retrospect, I probably should gotten dinner. I guess this is the part of trying to sleep off the depression that comes back to bite you. Or at least one of the parts.
Okay, maybe it's like five, or something. I'll just get an early breakfast. No biggie.
Hrmm. I see. Well, that's pretty early. Maybe I can get up, go get some food, and then come back and get another round of sleep.
I stepped out the door of my cheap motel room, an unexpected replacement for the super-double-oversold site hotel that's only sort of a site hotel now that there's no platinum hotel. The cool desert air was refreshing, despite the waft of stale cigarette-laden air from the alley and nearby park.
Why does the empty park smell so much like stale cigarettes, anyway?
I had brought my phone, but at the moment, I just couldn't bring myself to open it. What would I search for?
What if anyone had messaged me?
What if no one had?
Two blocks in a random direction later, I was knee-deep in what appeared to be a very Southwestern bar district. Police walked down the middle of the street, traveling in packs of three. The establishments blurred together, their patrons spilling over into the streets, with no synergy and no regard for signals, the draft well on its way to a complete trainwreck.
As I approached, I could tell something was wrong. Metal bars? What sort of a 7-Eleven was this?
It looked sort of closed, but in a fashion that appeared only mostly closed.
Maybe they were closing soon?
When I reached the door, the sign read "Open 24 Hours," but the lights were off, the door locked, not a soul in sight. At least not inside this empty husk.
I debated for a moment the prospect of using a phone, but the same ominous questions lingered. No good could come of that. It's not the most satisfying of all the ignorant blisses, but like not knowing when you will die, it's easier than the alternative.
A few more blocks and I caught myself.
How long had I been falling into that abyss?
Is it even fair to describe as falling, when the torment is so indulgent?
Homeless people. Breakdancers. Drunks wandering into traffic.
+1: Revealing the top card…
Okay, I can handle pizza. Now.
Two slices, each the sizes of clown shoes, and I struggled to keep my mind on track. Day 2 of the Pro Tour, tomorrow!
As I began my trek back in the general direction I had wandered from, my mind turned to the deck I had played in the Pro Tour, W/R Approach.