Joe looks relieved as they weigh in just below the magic 20 kilos. The girl behind the counter takes his ticket and passport, beams with her standard,...practiced, "designer" smile and goes through the whole "Did you pack this yourself?" routine. Joe, with a patience born of a hundred flights over the last few years, smiles and nods at the appropriate points; happy at the end of it all simply to have succeeded in gaining his boarding card although worried as ever, by his disappearing baggage. He. The brown wrapper reveals nothing. I nod and smile at the older man at the desk and follow the bellman up to my room. Thankfully, he doesn’t make conversation. I want to lay down on a soft bed, naked, and relax. The flight was brutal. The anticipation of getting here had been maddening. Frankly, I’d worked even harder than usual in November to feel like I deserved the month of December to myself. But first, the package. Bags on the bed, a tip discreetly given, and finally, I’m alone. Curiosity. More

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