Sunday, August 13, 2006

In The Beginning

When each day blooms into maturity, this blog becomes an even more ominous leper sore on the mind of my conscience. When each day is cigarette packed full of events, people, places, museums, triumphs and moving experiences a days delay--no, an hour's delay easily provides for another sentence, another paragraph, another page--another imagined look inside someone's inner being. But tonight, 150 feet above the Cairo's bombastic streets and with the pyramids just faintly in view from my balcony window in I hope to delve through my scribbled journal notes and decipher the mess that makes the Rosetta Stone seem like an easy code to crack.

Like any good story, we must start at the beginning. Perhaps all writers are all liars and our stories are only lies, but we still must begin our lies at the proper starting point. The packing and getting ready was uneventful and so far I feel that I have had everything necessary for my sanguine journey. My mother and father, Neal (mi hermano) and his girlfriend, Brian (mi other hermano—wow it has been a long time since I have used my Spanish) and my girlfriend all blessed the beginning of my trip by acquiescing to provide their presence at my departure. (And now wasn’t that such a literary snobbish way of structuring that sentence?). We had a superstious moment when our order number at Atlanta bread company (they should pay me for even mentioning their name) was 666 or also known as the number of the devil which I am sure most of you will be wearing on your forehead someday soon (joke—plez) and the cash register was number 13, which I don’t think requires any introduction. But it was all ok.

We said our long goodbyes. We hugged and they each wished me a wonderful trip. How touching. And before I knew it I was shoeless, belt-less, watch-less and through the security line and on my way to Washington DC. And of course, I had my trusty body purse (which politely held my passport and visas and a few other similar trinkets of slight importance) practically glued to my body, because at least 4 or 5 times during the 45 minutes at the airport my mom was quick to admonish me with “You HAVE to keep that on you at all times! If you lose that your entire trip would be ruined and you entire chance of happiness and marriage and family and success would go down the tubes it.” (Slight exaggeration---thanks mom, of course I’m just joking, and yes I still do have all those things safely intact). The hour and twenty minute flight to DC was mundane at best, although I was able to enjoy a few songs and to read the beginning of a book which I have been meaning to read for quite some years, which I have now finished and feel fully satisfied with my sibling’s recommendations. I arrived at DC without any complications and within 20 minutes I was at my next gate, rushing to enjoy the three hour over layover which inevitably makes one want to blow their brains out from extreme boredom (I was nearly the only person silly enough to be that early, so I had the whole gate practically to my self—oh the power, not).

And then the people started arriving, which is when the trip started to get interesting.

(which is what my next post will incorporate.)

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

When I read this post...

I laughed. Out loud.

12:45 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

David:

Hope you can catch up on your blogging on your flight to Japan. I met you in Beijing and remembering my first trip to China 21 years ago, I regret not having written down everything I saw and did back then. Standing in the Forbidden City, I have only fuzzy recollections of that time. Write it down now. You'll be glad decades later to have somthing to jog the memory cells.

And good luck with the rest of the trip.

6:19 PM  

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