I just spent a costly hour in a hotel in Vlissingen writing a carefully edited post on whiteness and privilege and my complicated feelings about being a white guy who doesn't quite look white. But this goddamn computer took it away from me, and now I am owed ten Euros and one pretty fine piece of writing. I'm dispirited and disgusted. No, I'm just fucking angry. Everything on the road when you're travelling outside North America or inside South Dakota is pure hassle and nickle-and-dimery, an endless string of gas station attendants, phone operators and concierges smiling helplessly and saying Sorry in any one of six different languages. Arggggh.