A NETFLIX OVERDOSE

I was kidnapped in Hongkong.

We were vacationing there (and Macau) in 2013 when someone Cooking on High for Burning Bright Production struck a conversation and offered a cod cake with girl scout cookies.

Everything was a blur after that until Schenzen's Futian Railway Station where it was announced during a dinner of medicated quinoa, black bean puree and potato gnocchi with sausage that I am a guest in Joanna Lumley's Trans-Siberia Adventure, the ensuing THC rush propelling the G72 bullet train 2,372 kilometers to Beijing in a 10-minute time warp where hallucinogenic forces aligned China's Hidden Wonders along the train track for a magical show, the pristine lakes of Jiuzhaigou Valley cascading in slow motion through the stone pinnacles of Zhangjiajie and Mount Huangshan, the ancient cities of Shanghai and Wuzhen fusing with Shangri-La like melted Tibetan yak butter.

That was May but August in Beijing as infused French onion soup, voodo shrimp and pan-fried corn bread from the Kang Ming Hotel breakfast buffet recreated Typhoon Maring during the changing of the guards at Tiananmen Square as a thousand ghosts of the Forbidden City's concubines lured me with a lunch of fortified ganja-mole salad shrimph a la diabla that teleported me to Datong instead of Balading for a tour of the Great Wall, totally stoned until a Mongolian shaman exorcised the euphoria of tetrahydrocannabinol with an offering of feremented mare's milk and a lulaby from Ulaan Bataar's throath singers.

We crossed into Russia through Ulan Ude and met with Dr. Augustine Lofthouse under The Midnight Sky of Siberia to inquire if Joanna will be able to lubricate on board the Aether or in Jupiter's habitable moon but she is as menopausal as Irkutsk's frozen Lake Baikal despite the wild mushrooms and pomegranate from Kranorask although doing pennance at Yekaterinburg's Holy Trinity Cathdral, a ballet lesson in Perm and solitary confinement at Moscow's Bunker 42 might help. 

In Bakal 2, the Thursday Club get high on beer, soju and roasted chicken during a quarantined Holiday in the Wild with Kate and Derek and their Zambian elephant son but those who wear funny caps were like Seventeen and virgins, not like Hector and Ismael who had a hit during their Cantabrian mischief that was just enough for Manolo to push Ramon through the last 100 Meters of mutating into a Spanish ironman. 

Our psychedelic trip then U-turned to 2006 in Japan with Sue Perkins where Tokyo's stout female sumo wrestlers sparred with demure male geishas of Kyoto and the venerable  non-binary ama divers from Ishe-Sima for the prize of bringing home a harassed salaryman who aspired of becoming a pop idol, the crowd at the Ryogoku Kokugikan sedated by pots of cannabis tea being dispensed by a maid cafe waitress whose solo wedding was officiated by the forest bathing shinto spirits of the Kii Mountains as cosplay pushed fantasy further into renting-a-family and speed dating. 

I am the Phantom Biker and I stand with Elizabeth Butler, Frances O'Flaherty and May Lacy in Season 1 of a Rebelion against the oppressors of the Irish people, 170.7 kilometers of solidarity stringed across 7 days, overdosing on Netflix and imagining a Covid-free fictional world.