*Brody*
Snow surrounded us on every side. There was no time when those f*****g flakes stopped flying through the air, making every mode of transport, even the one on four legs, difficult for us. When I boarded the plane my colleagues had rented using my credit card, which they designed to emphasize every time they sipped another bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal champagne without sharing a drop with me, I went to the small bathroom and took a deep cleansing shower. By deep, I mean deep. I not only used the fluids hidden in our specialist medicine cabinets to induce vomiting but also the laxatives remembered from childhood that worked as if at the snap of the fingers. I threw up, shat, and washed off everything that meant a drunk drowning his sorrows in glasses of vodka. Wiping off the stea
