To Alex from Mexico... Almost

Never have I imagined myself eulogizing a postcard, but I was preparing to eulogize this very postcard because I thought I lost it. For starters, it wasn't mailed... it was put on my desk at work in an envelope. So, not great. But I was appreciative of the postcard and said so to Gabe. Then it went missing! Enter the guilt. In drafting this eulogy, I would draw upon my brief memory of the postcard - and tell of its contents with cinematic detail:

We open with our protagonist, Gabriel, a geospatial spatial professor and conservationist adventurer, perched high on the steps of an ancient, vine-covered edifice ensconced in the lush backdrop of Mexico's tropical rainforest. The professor blinks against the blinding rays of an epic sunset while he composes a postcard set atop his leather-bound travel journal. He writes of regret for a missed connection in the ruins of Chiapas and laments the brevity of this journey to the jungle. With this imminent departure, he thinks that should he miss his departure - if only there were more time. The professor looks up from his thoughts at a sky ablaze with the last breath of the sinking sun. His eyes swell with emotion. And... scene.

So, that's what I had in mind. The church is not in a jungle, and there are no ruins. But I thought I lost the postcard after reading it once and really romanticized it. In actuality, Gabe had stolen it back from me because he didn't appreciate my compliment sandwich, apparently. Or in his words, "shit sandwich." According to Luke Trayser, a compliment sandwich is a misnomer, it's a criticism sandwich... But I digress. Thanks, Gabe. I got your postcard.

Get there!