(Colin)
On the morning of February 15th, 2011 AD, in the Julian Calendar of the west, the Sarcastic Four arose from a decent slumber. I myself did not enjoy the softness of the mattresses, as I am more of a firm mattress person, but I’m not one to complain about mattresses, so I shall continue. We ate at the hotel’s breakfast buffet for the third and final time, and enjoyed the music that they played, which was the exact same as they had played the two days before. Though consuming bad noodles to bad new age jazz is not something that one would consider ideal breakfast, we got more than a kick out of the massive contemporary wingbacks that we sat in, and the plethora of watermelon. Aching to get out of new age jazzland, we quickly went back to our rooms, and packed.
During packing, I had the interesting predicament of a gourd flute that I purchased in Lijiang, which I had dismantled the evening before in a fruitless attempt to repair it. My bags were full, by back was already straining under the thought of my backpack, and I hated this flute with the force of a thousand suns ...