lucyoncolorado

In which I try to go to the beach with the British royal family...

Prince William texts me that he'd like to spend the day at the beach. He sends me the address, and R enters it into his phone to get directions. We are led to a narrow island and are eventually driving down what appears to be nothing more than a sandbar. The sand is thick and dry, but we carry on because the phone tells us to. I argue with R that he's being foolish, but he claims that the phone would not send him down this far if we aren't supposed to drive here. Of course, we eventually get stuck in the sand. The tide is rising, and the car will soon be swallowed by the sea. I use this moment to tell R how much his reliance on his cell phone annoys me, then I slam the door and start off back towards the mainland on foot.

I'm struggling to walk in the sand. Each step I take feels like I'm pulling my foot out of concrete, and my breathing is labored. I'm short of breath, dizzy and nauseous. R asks what's wrong, and I explain that we drove so fast out on the beach that we didn't have time to acclimate, and now we'll have altitude sickness. He argues that we are at sea level.

I stop. I look around. He's right. I couldn't possibly be any more at sea level than this. When the tide comes in, it pulls sand out from under my feet. Something is wrong. Something is not right.

R tells me to hurry along. The royal family is waiting for us. I start walking again. Now I can breathe freely and no longer feel nauseous, but still I struggle to pull my feet out of the sand after every step. I look ahead towards land and see that, at this rate, it will take us hours to cross the beach. We will miss our appointment for sure.

Now I'm having trouble walking at all. My knees keep going weak and I keep falling over. I try to crawl, but even that seems impossible. I complain to R that I hate walking on sand. It's so difficult!

But then I stop again. That's not right. Since when do I hate walking on sand? I love walking on the beach. I walk for miles on the beach. And this close to the shore, where the sand is firm and wet, I even jog on the beach. Why in the world can't I walk normally now?

I think to myself, I've felt this before. This has happened to me before- that my legs have gone limp and I've been unable to walk. Normally, I think, this happens when someone is chasing me.

I look behind me, but there is no one there.

Then, suddenly, we are back in town. We are walking a long the seawall, and a film crew is up ahead filming Prince William and Queen Elizabeth as they take one of the little kids for a stroll along the beach. It's crowded, and people sit around under umbrellas watching the royals.

I approach William to apologize, and I ask him how late I am. He responds by showing me his watch, but I notice that it is a vortex manipulator bound to his wrist with a thick leather strap. All three of them have one on their wrists. Oh, I tell him. If you can time travel, then I guess it doesn't matter if I'm late. He looks at me as if I'm crazy. I look at their wrists again and see that actually they are all wearing fit bits.

Prince William explains that they are all ready to go to another beach as this one is too crowded. He asks me if I will bring the car around to pick him up, and I agree. I walk back to the seawall, and I see that there is bumper to bumper traffic ahead. It will be hours before we can get to the next beach. If we keep moving about like this, I'll never get to swim or enjoy myself.

I think to myself that this is just like club-hopping with M when I was in high school. She'd demand that we visit so many different clubs or attempt to meet up with so many different people that we never actually got to hang out in any one place and enjoy ourselves; we were always moving on to the next thing.

In which Snowden leaks reveal G's secret identity...

The most recent Snowden report reveals that the NSA is monitoring G due to his alleged involvement in terrorist activities. I consider canceling our trip to Kazakhstan to visit him. The scoundrel! He has a double life!

But I decide instead to warn him that he's being monitored and to express my disapproval. We Skype with him, but he is laughing, drinking and holding his baby daughter who coos cutely and tries to grab our noses through the computer screen. I tell G that I feel like a fool. We've always known he keeps some of his life private, but we feel foolish for thinking he was our fun-loving friend when really he is a hardened criminal. I know people are complex, but it makes me feel very naive. Lately, I've been feeling that there are very few ethical people in the world.

G is adamant that his behavior has been in the service of goodness, and when I respond that working for the secret police does no good for anyone except for powerful regimes that want absolute control, he looks baffled. Then he laughs and explains that the "terrorism" that he is involved with is actually just guerrilla style Facebook posts. He terrorizes our Facebook newsfeeds with the ugly facts about the violence to animals done in factory farms. Oh.