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Muchbetter than our domestic airlines. After eating I realized how wet mydiaper felt and decided to go change. I grabbed a spare diaper out of mycarry -on and tried to hide it as best I could and headed for therestroom. As I passed the flight attendants station I'm certain I saw aknowing glance and and a bit of a smirk from the crew. But this storyisn't about the flight. We landed at 8:30 a.m. local time. I gathered mybags, cleared customs and was met at the gate by a driver from theClinic. There was another woman on the way to the clinic as well. Wemade a bit of smalltalk during the half hour ride. Her name was Lois andshe was from Dayton Ohio, going to get some cosmetic work done. Wewished each other good luck and each went to check in. The lobby for the guestrooms was separate from the clinic. I introducedmyself at the desk as Mr Matt Bradley, from the USA. The desk clerkgreeted me warmly and the check-in went smoothly. I was given directionsto my room and a few informational. “Fostering community” was the bullshit slogan for the city’s program to give community groups the use of classrooms not needed for instruction.Well, Ed mused, Southern Tradition was fostering community, in a sense. A community of real Americans, not like the current occupants of the White House. Like anyone other than a white American should live there. It was a crime to watch that man and his family act as though they had a right to be in that building.Getting to that imposter in the White House was impossible, Ed knew that, unless someone wanted to try a suicide mission, but suicide missions were for fucking ragheads, not real Americans. Or maybe not, given the right circumstances. The daughters, however, there were some possibilities there. Vladimir was right, they could be a distraction. Maybe just enough, and it might be worth a sacrifice, anyway.“Report, Jones.”Jones stood up.“Goddam n...”Ed interrupted.“Fuck that shit, Jones. We know what they are. No need to repeat. Tell us.
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