string of bad luck

My unabated string of bad luck seems to have followed me all weekend long. So much for road trips and cryptic notes from the highway of life which is looking a lot more like the “Highway to Hell.” I was sitting in an airport departure lounge yesterday afternoon, and thoroughly distraught female sits down next to me, bursts into tears, and all I can think is, “Why break a string of bad luck with anything else?” For the astrological note of the day, she was a Gemini, and her Pisces boyfriend abandoned her in Las Vegas. Stranded her with no ticket, no purse, no money. The departure lounge folks — we all did what we could, but I was glad to get on a plane. Of course, no string of bad luck should ever get a chance to slow down, and the relentless pressure was only worse by the time I got home, I spent as much time waiting on my ride home as I spent on the last airplane flight. Next adventure? I’m not sure I’m up for any more adventures like this last weekend. The high point was getting to talk about literature and some of the genre lit.