Snowden inspired by airport soup, changes life direction

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Snowden, prior to life-changing encounter with Russian pho.

Today, Edward Snowden begrudgingly accepted asylum in Russia. The world’s current favorite traitor/hero (depending on where you’re standing) finally left the transit zone of the Moscow Airport after over one month of hiding out. We caught up with him a few miles outside the airport, in a Vladimir Putin-shaped limo, as he was en route to a locale we must keep undisclosed so as not to incur the wrath of frigid Russian gods. As it turns out, the poor chap was leaving more behind at the Moscow Airport than any of us knew.

Hair of the Dog: You must feel such an extraordinary sense of freedom right now, you haven’t breathed fresh air for over a month.

Snowden: (sniffles)

HoftheD: Ed? You okay?

Snowden: You want to know something? Something secret?

HoftheD: Yes. We do.

Snowden: The only reason I took this fucking asylum is because there was nothing better.

HoftheD: What?

Snowden: Yeah, thanks for the offer Venezuela, but what am I even going to eat there? Crocodiles? Twizzlers?

HoftheD: I don’t think they have any of those things. Also, you’ve been in an airport.  We thought you’d be relieved to leave.

Snowden: You don’t understand. I’ve been great. I’d be relieved if I wasn’t running away from the only thing I ever loved.

HoftheD: Girlfriend.

Snowden: Please. Have you ever tasted pierogi pho?

HoftheD: That sounds disgusting.

Snowden: You’re disgusting!

HoftheD: Please, continue. Pierogi pho.

Snowden: (fighting back tears). My whole life, I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I knew what’s right then BAM!

HoftheD: You’re exiled?

Snowden: No. Then BAM, you walk into this shitty looking spot in Terminal E when you think your life is over, that calls itself Viet-Russian fusion and you have the best fucking meal of your life. You watch that pudgy island of pierogi getting all soggy in that broth and you can’t help thinking about how we’re all really islands, you know? Every man is an island.

HoftheD: I’ve heard that before.

Even better than terminal E is terminal F

Even better than terminal E is terminal F

Snowden: Shut up. So, yeah. These dumplings, man. After a week of eating nothing but stale fuckin’ duty-free Toblerones, you put one of these silky blobs on your tongue and you swear you’ve gone to fuckin’ heaven. The brisket just disappears on your tongue. I wish I could do that. Just vanish, melt. Change into another kind of matter entirely. You pick up a noodle and watch that beefy broth sweat down the sides and you slurp it up. Snag a basil leaf and and tuck into the folds of the pierogis, squeeze some lime into it and eat it with your eyes closed and you can see the future. And then you think, why, why would I ever leave this place.

HoftheD: The airport?

Snowden: Yeah. Terminal E.

HoftheD: That’s why you didn’t leave sooner? The soup?

Snowden: Fusion is genius! Why isn’t this shit everywhere? I dug a tunnel, man. I dug a tunnel with these lasers I got from a Japanese dude and I could have been out of here and home free weeks ago. You know the real reason I didn’t jump on the plane to Bolivia or Venezuela? They practically took my hand and walked me in the door. But I said, do you have fusion? Do you have Chinese-Nigerian fusion? Polish sushi? Honestly, all I want is baklava sashimi. I’ve never even tasted it but I think it’s genius. I’m a fucking genius. Everyone’s a genius. Except Obama. He’s a dumbo.

HoftheD: I don’t know what that means.

Snowden: It doesn’t matter. Anyway, this soup changed everything. The first time that broth trickled down my throat I realized, I’ve got to change the world.

HoftheD: Wasn’t that your intention from the beginning? By releasing the documents?

Snowden: That’s not going to change anything. You can’t eat documents. The only things that change anything are things you can eat.

HoftheD: Ok, so…

Snowden: I’m starting a Cajun/Swedish fusion place. It’s gonna be great. I’ve got this whole futuristic thing planned out. We’re gonna have reindeer meat beignets and stuff. It’s perfect. I’ve never felt more like myself. You know? Releasing all the intel was really a cry for help. I wanted someone to witness my pain, so share the stark, existential loneliness you encounter when you realized you’ve devoted your life to a machine that doesn’t know your name. To a government that flips the switch on you like you’re a rabid dog. It’s dehumanizing.

HoftheDog: That’s heavy.

Snowden: Whatever. Reindeer beignets! Fuck yeah!

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