Athens Airport, August 26th
At three o’clock in the morning, the Athens airport looks about the same as any given Athens street: littered with strays. Everyone is folded up on a bench or sprawled on the floor. People-puppy-piles rest on backpacks, friend curled into friend. This is the best time to travel, before the rush, before the slog, before the delays. This is when the mighty, they who power through the night and fly into the morning, stake their claim to destiny and a window seat.
Monte Carlo, or the art of manifesting daydreams
It was easy to justify the cost of my travels in the summer of 2022. See, I’d spent six years saving for a post-grad adventure (it should have been four years, but COVID decided to give me extra time), and I was adamant that I would achieve the trip of my dreams on a budget.
I still dropped a hearty sum on that month of my life. The simple act of jumping the Atlantic was enough to drain my coffers and the blood from my young, rosy cheeks. But I had a comfort that stood above all my worries and what-if’s.
I would simply win in Monte Carlo.