Among Those Fleeing Judeo Christian Satanism

[Istanbul, 6/29/25]

Leaving Vung Tau, I took a minibus that left no margin for delay, so as we crawled along on certain stretches, I had a real fear of missing my flight. It was with great relief, then, to finally be strapped to that economy class seat to Istanbul.

9/11 made flying more unpleasant. Each passenger is treated as a potential terrorist ready to blow up the plane with his bottle of water, mouthwash or top-shelf red wine. Mothers with baby formula are possibly suicide bombers willing to sacrifice her newborn also. Security officers can nudge your balls to make sure they’re not hand grenades.

Online bookings had airlines competing for the lowest fares possible, so service deteriorated. Cheap enough fares have allowed more people to fly, though, so on this ten-hour trip, I heard a baby crying hysterically, an old guy coughing for minutes at a time, and my seatmate using the wet wipe to clean his armpits. The food served by Turkish Airlines were pretty good, though. I even treated myself to a glass of red wine. This helped me to sleep some.

A Vietnamese passenger was returning to Norway after six weeks in Vietnam. He had escaped by boat from Vung Tau in 1982. His Norwegian was functional, he said, but he couldn’t have deep or intimate conversations with the native born. Winter lasting half a year increased his isolation, but still, he wasn’t tempted to return to Vietnam for good. Decades of life as an often bewildered outsider had made such an existence normal. This world is overrun by refugees.