Upon landing in sayulita, mx’s international surfport for new years 08/09 and clearing a sleeping customs canine, @AverageCabbage and I had twin parallel urges to explore the airfield until the other 1/2 of our galactic retinue arrived on a later flight. So we devised a plan to avoid security (i.e., gave our assigned driver a nudie) and slipped off behind the terminal.
We first came to an annex building, a 15×15 foot shed with a single window and a screen door. Notebooks climbed to the ceiling, the air was dark and the light dank. Flight logs and maintenance records were strewn everywhere and covered in old-vine cobwebs. A dust, colored like Mrs. Dash, aerosoled in the vacuum release of our opening the door.
We found nothing seductive, so we continued on and absconded behind the shed through some brush that required the use of Adam’s machete. We came to a clearing. On the far end were two wrecked planes. The near one was in better shape, at least for touching (you know, no snakes). I snapped this shot of him on the wing of the plane using his iPhoney 1.0 for his lake-roohm blogge:
His lake roohm one day will be part of the MOMA’s permanent collection and will also be on an iPad next to Archie Bunker’s chair in the Smithsonian. I did a fake lake roohm response to his Lake Roohm, too, for some megameta-dissonance. And thus we live.