A Texan Goes to Nirvana / audiobook narration
Description
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Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (South West - Texas)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Welcome to Louisville International Airport for your convenience. This airport is a smoke free zone. Please refrain from smoking except in outside designated areas. Oh, crap. Thought Wendy taped. I'm in the frickin fatherland of smokers and you can't even light up in Kentucky anymore. After collecting her new Navy blue suitcase with the white leather piping from baggage claim, Wendy headed straight for the outside designated smoking area. Her new luggage made her feel like Holly go lightly from breakfast at Tiffany's. She was off on another adventure, like Holly and following the character closely. She was afraid that she was running away. Justus Holly had done when things seemed too much for her. Wendy had caught an earlier flight from Boston, so she had plenty of time before her escort was to arrive to take her to the Ashram. The late summer breeze felt good on her skin. She had time to smoke and time to go back over the conversation she'd had in Boston with the death psychiatrist Dr Monique Maple er, a plump brunette with the PhD and thick, bushy eyebrows. Well, Wendy, tell me a little bit about why you came to me to her surprise. Wendy's chin began to quiver as she replied, Well, Dr Maple, er uh, I'm sorry, but I can't hear you. Said the doctor. Well, Dr Maple, or I haven't really started yet. I'm sorry. Did you say you haven't parted your bet? You'll have to excuse me, but I'm hard of hearing, so you'll have to speak clearly, slowly and loudly. If you don't mind, Said the doctor. I'm miserable. My marriage is in big trouble. Can you hear me? Yes. Thank you. Wendy replied. Doctor May pillar. Is this your first marriage, dear? Um well, not exactly. So you were married once before? Correct? Actually, once before, the one before this one. I see said Dr Michler. Wendy had heard every psychiatrist in any movie whose theme was dysfunction. Say that same thing. Two little words filled with judgment and suspicion. It wasn't Wendy's fault that her third husband had carried on a flagrant affair with a co worker and left an evidence trail as long as a wagon track on an endless dirt road. When he thought she'd learned everything there was to know about relationships. When Mr Three came along, she was 30 years old a tall, striking West Texas beauty. He was a tall, dark, handsome and successful young man. He was supposed to be the perfect yang, too. Her yin, everyone said. So he had married her and moved her to Boston, which might as well have been Mars to a native Texan. If Wendy had given herself more than 15 minutes to decide that her entire future would be intimately intertwined with his, she might have taken pause. Instead, she chose to ignore his affinity for blonde twentysomethings in short, tight skirts. Her outwardly perfect match with Mr Three had lasted 10 years, leaving Wendy a full decade older and wanting out. She realized that the days of running back to her mother and sister had played themselves out long ago with Mr One and Mr To. Besides, she learned most of her dysfunctional behavior from her family, and they weren't any smarter or better off than she Waas. Please refrain from smoking within 15 feet of any entrance or exit. Wendy wanted to tell the Kentucky airport message narrator to go **** herself, but she lit up a Winston instead, visually counting the 22 approximate steps to the entrance the day was lovely. The sun was shining and she was in the beautiful state of Kentucky. And Wendy already wanted to kill someone.