As far as I can tell I’m not an expert in personal relationships
Trillian raised her eyebrows.
I am, he added, one hell of a guy, I can do anything I want only I just don’t have the faintest idea what.
He paused.
One thing, he further added, has suddenly ceased to lead to another in contradiction of which he had another drink and slid gracelessly off his chair.
Whilst he slept it off, Trillian did a little research in the ship’s copy of The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It had some advice to offer on drunkenness.
Go to it, it said, and good luck.
It was cross-referenced to the entry concerning the size of the Universe and ways of coping with that.
Then she found the entry on Han Wavel, an exotic holiday planet, and one of the wonders of the Galaxy.
Han Wavel is a world which consists largely of fabulous ultraluxury hotels and casinos, all of which have been formed by the natural erosion of wind and rain. The chances of this happening are more or less one to infinity against. Little is known of how this came about because none of the geophysicists, probability statisticians, meteoranalysts or bizzarrologists who are so keen to research it can afford to stay there.
Terrific, thought Trillian to herself, and within a few hours the great white running-shoe ship was slowly powering down out of the sky beneath a hot brilliant sun towards a brightly coloured sandy spaceport. The ship was clearly causing a sensation on the ground, and Trillian was enjoying herself. She heard Zaphod moving around and whistling somewhere in the ship.
How are you? she said over the general intercom.
Fine, he said brightly, terribly well.
Where are you?
In the bathroom.
What are you doing?
Staying here.
After an hour or two it became plain that he meant it and the ship returned to the sky without having once opened its hatchway.
Heigh ho, said Eddie the Computer.
Trillian nodded patiently, tapped her fingers a couple of times and pushed the intercom switch.
I think that enforced fun is probably not what you need at this point.
Probably not, replied Zaphod from wherever he was.
I think a bit of physical challenge would help draw you out of yourself.
Whatever you think, I think, said Zaphod.
“Recreational Impossibilities” was a heading which caught Trillian’s eye when, a short while later, she sat down to flip through the Guide again, and as the Heart of Gold rushed at improbable speeds in an indeterminate direction, she sipped a cup of something undrinkable from the Nutrimatic Drink Dispenser and read about how to fly.
The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of flying.
There is an art, it says, or rather a knack to flying.
The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.
Pick a nice day, it suggests, and try it.
The first part is easy.