In the light of day, this place doesn’t look so festive. The wedding party has gone. The happy couple are tucked away in their bridal suite, sleeping off their delirium.
I argue with the guy a little over the bill. Maybe he could give me a discount on account of the Internet being so crap. “We have high speed Internet here,” he keeps repeating patiently. As if I’m a child.
No, my friend. This is not high speed Internet. We won’t even call it high speed in Bowie. Meanwhile, in Iceland, it’s a part of your human rights package: the right to have high speed internet. They are raising the bar over there.
