There are many ways to “Trip”

I trip on a shoelace, and fall down the stairs

I trip when I take drugs (not recreationally, because I’m a Christian)—

to some, God is a drug.

I trip, when I go on a trip. Everything goes wrong.

It might be

the bad luck of my travelling buddies.

I trip, when our flight is delayed

and we miss our connecting flight. My Indian friend restrains his anger

but the demon inside of him

is pressing-up against his good-looking face

and he asks our receptionist

with untold grace

“Mam—are there no other options?”

“This voucher is good for a hotel, but because of the blizzard, all hotels are booked within a 2-hour radius.”

He glares at her, through smiling white teeth, and says, “Thank you, mam,” in enunciated Oxford English.

“Here are some food vouchers for you.”

I take them, gratefully.

My Indian friend is dressed in a pea coat.

He would’ve done his business right there, but he has too many manners and too many patents, elsewhere.

He restrains himself, and uses the bathroom, instead.

We have to sleep in the airport.

The floor is harder than our camping trip in the woods.

I don’t sleep, but my Indian friend takes my picture three times

with my eyes closed

as photographic evidence that I did.

“Just because my eyes are closed, doesn’t mean I slept,” I said.

“You were snoring,” he laughed, gleefully.

It turns out, that our chain reaction of bad luck


because of a poorly planned bit of business in an on-flight restroom.

We were told this

by an elegant black man

in a service uniform.

“Our sanitation service can’t get rid of the smell,” he said.

His nostrils twitched, like he had sniffed something sour.

There was this blond girl in butt-tight pants and a sports bra


back and forth, in the airport.

“Does she want attention?” I asked my friends.

“She wants power,” my Indian friend said.

“It could’ve been her, who bombed the bathroom,” I suggested.

After 30 straight hours of no sleep, no service, and no sanitation

I shaved

in the restroom

with Occam’s razor.

My face was gray

4 flights were rerouted


thousands of dollars in flight vouchers were given away.

How could one person create so much chaos? I wondered.

“Whoever bombed that bathroom was a terrorist,” I said.

The simplest explanation is always the best.


3 thoughts on “I shave with Occam’s Razor

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