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The thirty kilometer hostage situation

I don't like car travel. Motion sickness is my constant companion, and 30 kilometers is exactly 29 kilometers too many. But it was my brother Angamba’s wedding reception. "It's once in a lifetime," my sister-in-law said. (Emotional blackmail works. Every time.) "You have to be there," my mother insisted. So, I went. 0 Minutes in: I arrive at the resort. My head is spinning. I see a caricature artist. A "free of cost" sign is basically a dinner bell for a crowd. They swarmed him like it was the last drawing on earth. I didn't want a drawing; I wanted a pillow. Hour 1: I find a quiet corner. I take a nap. There is some truly about a power nap. The ultimate shortcut to feeling alive again. Hour 2: My cousin Akash and his brother arrive. Energy returns. We see the swimming pool. There is a fence. I decided to jump it. Rrrrip. My kurta pyjama decided it was time to become two separate pieces of fabric. Note to self: Formal wear is not for parkour. ...
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