Well, guys. I did it. I talked to Fetch.
This is not a confession. To be entirely clear: This is not a confession. I went down there yesterday, I said my piece, and the fact I’m now blogging to you from an undisclosed location adjacent to an international border is irrelevant to what transpired between myself and the representative of my mortal enemy/package delivery service and also some guy who happens to be keep his diet coke in the fridge in our building’s “poolside lounge.” Will you ever see me again? No. But not because I did anything outside the accepted legal bounds of self-defense.
Where am I going? Not telling you that. Am I traveling by land? By sea? I won’t answer that either, but rest assured: I’m aware that stretches of the Panamanian isthmus are impassable by known roads. By the time you read this, I will have vanished, gone to lands where I don’t know what the most significant sport is but all odds say it’s soccer or buzkashi. This is the end for us, so let me say it once and for all: It has been an honor being your NIT blogger.
Farewell, and now, as it shall be forever:
Bark.
