masklinu-blog

[masklinu-blog]

Story time.

Last night, because of reasons I won't bother you with, I had to spend the night in the ER. While waiting for my blood test results, I was laying on one of the beds there, with my greedy body devouring a perfusion. I was the only person there, and the atmosphere, as funny (and weird) as it may sound, was quite pleasant. The whole silence was broken at one point by the sudden arrival of a new person in the ER. The man, around 27, was highly agitated and went straight in the doctor's office. Finding nobody there, he went to the nurse's desk and started yelling at her: "Where's the doctor? I need the doctor! I'm dying!" "I called him already, sir. He should be here any moment. Just wait for him in his office, sir" So he ran again to the office and, finding nobody there yet, started yelling across the room at the nurse: "How long does he need? What is this bullcrap? Can't you see I'm dying?!" I couldn't hear her answer, but I just want to specify that all this happened in literally less than a minute since his arrival in the ER. The Doctor came in, took him in his office and couldn't hear them anymore. Well, aside from the guy yelling a few times "I might have brain hemorrhage!" and again and again "I'm dying!!!" The doctor patiently (man, these guys are extremely patient!) told him over and over to sit down in the waiting area while he does some blood tests, and tried to convince him that he isn't actually dying. Being left alone in the waiting area, the guy went back to the nurse and yelled at her across the counter: "What is this crap? I'm dying here, and nobody cares! I need your help, nurse! The doctor doesn't care about me!" "Sir, just sit down in the waiting area. You just have to have a little patience. You can lay down on the beds over there, if you would like" I cringed. Don't send him next to me! I like my own little quiet space... But the dying man has just seen a passing nurse and started chasing her down the corridor: "Nurse! Nurse! I'm dying! I need your help!" 2 minutes of silence while the guy was chasing down nurses around the hospital, and then he showed up in the ER again. This time he went straight to the beds and, to my despair, laid down on the bed next to mine. He looked at me, looked at my perfusion and asked: "Yo! Man! You ok?" Noooo...let's not do this! Am I being antisocial if I don't want this chit-chat?   "Yeah, I'm fine. Just....chilling" "Well...what's wrong?" I'm not doing this. I won't tell you my whole story. It's none of your business! "Yeaaah, nothing much. Just feeling a little under the weather" And then, I hesitated. Social protocol forces me to do this, but I really don't want to. I really really don't want to. But it's protocol. So I have to. So, regretting even before opening my mouth, I ask: "What about you?" "I'm dying, man. I'm dying and this bastards don't give a crap about me!" "Well...how do you know? I mean..what's wrong?" "My whole head hurts, it feels really hot and my ear went numb. That's clearly a sign of brain hemorrhage, right?" No. No, it's not. "I don't know, I'm not a doctor. But do you have fever?" "I think so. But the bastard said I don't." Well maybe you should listen to him. "What was your temperature?" "37 Degrees." "Then he's right. That's not a fever." "No, for me it is. I was always at around 33-34 degrees." What are you, a polar bear? "Mhm...I don't know.." And then, for a few magical seconds, silence. I could feel his eyes on me, but I stubbornly kept staring at the ceiling, avoiding his gaze. "Dude, can I ask you something?" his tone was all of a sudden serious and calm, with not a single trace of the nervousness before. "Mhm?" "So...you know...when I sit down on the street, because I don't have a place of my own" this takes a rather not expected turn "asking for 20-30 eurocents, struggling to get the 30 Euros I need for drugs" AAAAAAAAAH. Ok, well this might explain a few of the symptoms and your behavior "do you think...do you think it matters?" What? What are you talking about? "To whom? To you, or to those giving you the money?" "Those giving me the money. Does it matter to them that I spend them on drugs?" Wow. How can you tell someone that nobody cares about him? "No. I don't think it matters to them." "Good. 'Cause you know, I don't want to let them down...." Wow. Now you have some deep issues there, son. You need professional help, which, unfortunately, I can't offer you. I'm sure Freud would love to have you on his couch. So I just said nothing. He saw another nurse down the corridor and, with a quick jump out of the bed, started running after her, all the time yelling "Nurse! Nurse!"   He came back holding a can of red bull (why not drink that while feeling sick, right?), grabbed his jacket and left. Didn't stay for the results of his test. Hours later, while curled up in my bed, even though I was extremely tired, I just couldn't fall asleep. I kept thinking about his question: "Does it matter?" Well...does it? Do we care? That's a real mind breaker...

[masklinu-blog]

The train ride.

The train was filled with THEM. Given the limited number of seats, they filled the corridors as well. Entire families, with young children, the mother holding a baby while the father was carrying all their possessions in a tiny backpack. They were all sitting together, looking nervous and scared, but yet hopeful. Hopeful they will escape, hopeful they will finally get the peaceful life they deserved. I found myself a place on the corridor next to a window and leaned against it, trying to make myself as comfortable as possible while not getting too intimate with those around me invading my personal space. It’s going to be a long 3-hours ride back home. They didn’t talk much. From time to time, one of the babies would start crying triggering soothing whispers from their parents, but other than that, the whole railway car was pretty quiet. I’m guessing they were too nervous to talk, and I can totally understand them: we were approaching the border. In the last major city before the border, the police was waiting for THEM on the platform. As soon as the train stopped, 3 police officers got on each end of the car. And just as they got in, they announced in a booming voice: “Pass control!” THEY had a look of desperation in their eyes. THEY knew everything was lost. Slowly, the police was escorting those at the ends out of the train, while the OTHERS were trying to squeeze towards the middle, hoping THEY will somehow escape this way. I was trying my best to stay out of their way and found myself standing next to two women each holding a baby tight to their chest. The police officer came next to them, looked at them and asked: “Pass?” No answer. The women were looking straight forward, ignoring him, baby in their arms. “Passport?!” No answer. Their eyes were stubbornly looking forward. “No passport? Down. Let’s go! You go off the train now!” No answer. “OFF THE TRAIN!” The police officer lost his patience, grabbed one of the women by her arms and started dragging her towards the exit. None of them struggled, they were both so scared, they followed him without a word. I had my passport ready and offered it to the next police officer, but he just smiled and shook his head. It was clear I wasn’t one of THEM; there was no need to see my documents. And just like that, the corridor was empty. However, some of THEM were still hiding inside the compartments, hoping and praying that the train will leave as soon as possible with them escaping the control. Luck wasn’t on THEIR side this time. After 20 minutes from the first control, the police got back on the train, this time checking the compartments. It wasn’t a hard task, a simple glimpse thrown inside each compartment would immediately identify THEM. And just as before, “no pass = off the train”. This time the people did put up a fight, and it took more policemen and more force to take them out of the train. But in the end, nobody escaped. Not even those two who presented some false documents; these policemen couldn’t be fooled. Even after the train was controlled the third time, we were still not moving. Outside, on the platform, the police was fighting with them. Right in front of my window, there was a family with the father holding the little daughter’s hand while the mother was holding a baby. They were yelling at the police officers, tears in their eyes, gesturing to the train. They tried to get back on the train, access denied. They went a little further down the platform, police following shortly behind. They tried again to get back on the train, access was again denied. The father (who wasn’t older than me, so 25 tops) sat all of a sudden down in the middle of the platform, tears running down his cheeks. He looked at the police officer in front of him and started begging on his knees; he even reached for his hands, trying to kiss them. The access remained nevertheless denied. As other policemen came, they picked him up and started dragging him towards where all the others were. As they were dragging him, he passed right in front of my window and, for a fraction of a second, we looked at each other.  He looked miserable. He looked broken. He looked defeated. He would’ve given anything to be inside this lousy train that meant nothing for me. For me, this was just a means of transportation from point A to point B, but for him, this train was “the stairway to heaven”. I felt my stomach tighten and turned my back to the window. I didn’t want to see this anymore. All I wanted was to get home as soon as possible. We left the station after almost 2 hours. I looked around the corridor and discovered I was the only one left. No more illegal sardines. Not long after we passed the border, a guy wearing a fancy suit and glasses came to me to ask me something. He didn’t speak English, German, Italian or French, so we had to rely on hand gestures. But what he roughly asked me was: “Hungary, gone?” “Yes” “Now…Zurich?” “No, now Austria” Puzzled look on his face. “Now Vienna, Salzburg, Innsbruck. Austria. Zurich later”. He shook his head in a thankful way and upon doing this, I noticed him better. He was one of THEM. He managed to escape the control simply by wearing a fancy suit. He managed to get inside. No, this isn’t a fictional story about Jews in 1930’s Germany. This is a true story about Syrians that happened to me yesterday (LE: August 2015). I don’t know what happened to them, nor what will happen. But I wish them all good luck and I hope from the bottom of my heart they will get what they wish for. They deserve it.

[masklinu-blog]

The longest day. Part four (and the last one)

In what was a terrible ride (well, for me at least) we somehow managed to get to the palace with only 45 minutes before closing time. I thanked all the gods I knew (regardless of their origin) and rushed the kids inside the palace, telling them to go through it as fast as possible, but still to keep their eyes open for the royal bedrooms and the hall of mirrors. I didn’t get in; I needed a few minutes for myself. So I just sat in the inner courtyard, enjoying a cold drink while admiring the architecture of the palace and imagining a large group of furious people with torches and pitchforks running around.   By the time the group was kicked out of the museum at 10 past 6, I was relaxed. Our dinner was at 7, and it was just around the corner. We had plenty of time to spare, so we stayed there for a few more minutes, asked them about what caught their eye inside and told them a little about the history of the place. Things were good again. Looking for the bus in the parking lot was just a distant memory now.   It didn’t take me long to find the restaurant and, as soon as we got there, I told my group to wait for me outside while I went inside to see if they were ready for us. Inside were two other groups from the same company and right by the entrance were the other delegation managers. - Hi guys! I saluted them with a huge smile on my face - Hey! Get out of here as fast as possible. came their answer in German. - What? Why?! - We found worms in our food earlier. We already called the program office, but I would suggest you go find another place to eat. Sorry, man. - Oh, wow! Thanks for telling me know. I’ll see what I can do.   I got out of the restaurant with a huge sigh. Of course they found worms in the food, what was I expecting? A decent meal? Today? Neaah.. I went straight to the teachers and broke the news: - Hey, guess what? I think today might be the day when we finally eat at McDonalds. The other groups found worms in their food. - WHAT?! - Myeaaah. Great stuff, I know. Let me just call the program office and see where we should go. Wait here.   I went away from the group a few paces, took my phone out and just looked at it. I didn’t want to make this phone call. I was tired, and had enough. So they found a few worms, big deal. We only had one vegetarian in our group, I’ll just make sure she doesn’t get them and we should be fine. Extra proteins, after all. I sighed and made a very reluctant phone call. - Hello, this is Amir. is he the only one working there?! - Hey Amir, this is Dan again. Listen, we just got to our restaurant and there were some other dms there who told me to get out because they found some worms and.. - Oh, yeah, I know. Well, never mind about that. I talked to the restaurant and they made sure it won’t happen to you, so don’t worry. Go in, eat as you should have, and don’t think about it. Just make sure your teachers don’t find out about it.   Riiiiight, rule number one of the guidebook. Never tell your teachers. First call the program office and then the teachers. Whops! - Ah! About that! They kindaaaaaa…uhm….already know. Uhm….yeah. The…uhm…the teachers from the other groups told them. So uhm…yeah. that was actually quite a believable lie. Good job, Dan! - Mhm. Well, then just assure them it’s not going to happen again and calm them down. I’m counting on you.   And that was that. I thanked Amir and went back to the teachers who in the meanwhile decided KFC would in fact be better than McDonalds in terms of feeding a lot of people at once. - What do you mean we have to eat here?! Laura’s voice was filled not only with surprise; I could also feel a small threat in there. - Well, apparently they had a different thing than what we’re having so….there shouldn’t be any problems with our food. - But it’s the same company! How can we have a different menu? - Uhm…I mean they changed the menu for us so that they are 100% sure we won’t have any worms. look at me being able to lie on the spot. Good job, Dan! - I see. Well, I still have my doubts, you know.   So did I, but we had no choice. So we went in, and, in the defense of the restaurant we ended up having one of our best dinners from the whole program. Worm free as well! As we were going back to the bus, I was smiling. The day finally had its end in sight. And the smile couldn’t even be put down by the once again ringing phone. Nothing could go wrong now, I thought: - Hi, this is Amir from the.. - From the program office, I know. Hi Amir. Do you never go home? Or do you just sleep in the office? - Well, my shift is about to end soon. Anyway, I just got a call from the restaurant where you just had dinner. You forgot one of your kids there. Some guy called Mike. I know it’s none of my business, but isn’t he the one you lost earlier today? - WHAT?! Fuc…yeah, he is. Wow, thanks. I’m going now to get him. Thanks. - Just…be more careful, please.   I put the phone back in my pocket and looked at Larissa: - Good news. We forgot Mike at the restaurant. Get the rest of the group on the bus and I’ll go get him.   So I turned around, leaving her with a puzzled look and started running back to the restaurant. How could I ever forget him? Especially since we were sitting at the same table! How could I mess up so badly in just one day?!   The restaurant wasn’t that far away from the bus, but I was so out of shape by the time I got back inside I needed a moment to catch my breath. Mike was sitting on a chair eating an ice cream given to him by the restaurant staff, while they were cleaning the whole place. - You forgot about me! Again! Do you not want me in your group, or what?! Should I just go back to the States? I bet this would never have happened with the Iowa group. They liked me there, you know?! - Shut up, you rascal. I could only smile. Look, I’m sorry about this, I will be more careful in the future, I promise you I won’t lose you again (we lost him again 3 days later, but that’s another story). Now come on, finish up your second desert and let’s go. Can you run?   I thanked the restaurant staff and we started running back to the bus. All I could think of was that I was a huge failure. And that I should go to the gym more often. Running for 2 minutes shouldn’t kill you at my age! Back on the bus we got greeted by the kids chanting “Dan the man! You’re our superman!”. I just crashed on my seat, fighting for breath but with a huge smile on my face. I kinda was a superhero, wasn’t I? Well, theirs, at least. I gave my ok to Franz, and we drove off back to the hotel (with a small stop at the tower).   And then, just like that, we were back in the hotel. I was lying on my bed, and couldn’t believe the day I had. The room was just as I left it before I even knew my bus was missing and was oblivious to the fact that I lost the same kid twice in the span of only 4 hours. But a hard knock on my door brought me back from my thoughts. I stood up reluctantly and opened the door. Behind it, just as she was the night before, was Laura. - Hey there, superman. thanks for the sarcasm. We need your help. Ghosts aren’t your kryptonite, are they? - Ghosts? What are you talking about? - Jim saw a ghost in his room. Come this way.   Here we go again. I sighed and closed the door behind me. Now there’s ghosts? What else is going to happen until midnight? Vampires? Dinosaurs? Actually dinosaurs would be kinda neat! Maybe I get to ride one. If only…   So the ghost story goes like this: while his roommate was in the shower, Jim swears he saw his blanket rise 20 centimeters up in the air, with 1 pair of legs showing underneath. He started screaming, his roommate came out of the shower wondering what happened, Jim told him what he saw, and they both went out of their room screaming. They went to the teachers and refused to get back inside, let alone sleep there. Long story short, in order to convince them, we had to form a circle in the middle of the room while holding hands and said a few prayers to scare the demons away…    Once back in my room, I put my phone on silent and jumped into bed. I didn’t care what happened, I was fed up, tired and in dire need of sleep. And I still had 2 weeks on the road with them, 2 full weeks. By the time everything was over, everything that could go wrong did. We were horribly late to every appointment, lost Mike 2 more times, had students fighting, had a flat tire on the Dutch motorway and drove a huge bus with it for 50 other kilometers, fired Franz for unprofessional behavior, had a broken foot and had to carry the girl through a German remote town and many, many more. But all in all it was a great trip. I discovered that no matter what happens, kids will always react positive to it. It is us, the adults, who freak out every second and make life more complicated. All we have to do is respond with a huge smile on our face and deal with it.   So there you go. Longest day of my life. A day filled with emotions, running around and, as incredible as it seems, is 99% true. Heck, you weren’t there. 100% true. Yup. True story.

[masklinu-blog]

The longest day. Part three

I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t waste any more time waiting for Mike. I had to go in and check that he was all right. I went to the two service ladies and didn’t even have to say anything; they just let me go right through. I guess they were also worrying for the little boy that failed to get out from the ladies room. I got inside, ignored the ugly looks thrown to me by a few women and started to look around. No sign of him, but a few of the toilet’s doors were closed. 

- Mike?  No answer.  - Mike, are you in here? - Yeaaaah…. came a very shy answer from behind one of the doors.  - Are you…are you ok? Is everything all right in there? - Yeaaaah…. - Are you finished? - Yeaaaah… - Well then, let’s go! We’re late. What are you still doing in there?! - Well…uhm….are there still ladies around? - WHAT?! Yes, of course they are, this is their restroom. Now come on, let’s go! - Can’t we just wait until they are gone? And then it hit me. At 12 years old, he was so shy he was ashamed of getting out of there while there were still women around. However, given how populous that area was, this created some sort of a problem, him eavesdropping and waiting until he could hear nobody (which obviously didn’t happen) and thus causing us to be late. I looked around and I knew I had to lie.  - Uhm…sure. You can get out now, there is nobody left.  - Really?  He slowly opened the door and shyly peered through. I saw my chance and took it, grabbing him by his hand and dragging him out of there.  - Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?! he started arguing.  - You’re 12, how can that be embarrassing for you?! You caused us to be late! Now come on, let’s go.  We rushed back up and surely enough, the group was already there. The guide threw me a look full with disapproval and asked me if we were ready to go. I didn’t even try to explain why we were late, I just asked one of the teachers if this was all of the kids, and, after I got a positive answer, lead the group back to the bus. Franz was already there, and by the looks of it, couldn’t care less that we were late. He actually told me later that he didn’t even drive away, he just stayed there the whole time and nobody asked him anything. Good for him, I guess.  Our next stop was the lunch in Montmartre and in order to get there, we had to walk, as there was no possible way for the bus to drive through the narrow streets. We bid farewell to the guide, and she was in such a rush to get away from us as fast as possible, she just waved us goodbye while already walking in the opposite direction. A few of the kids asked me why she was so rude and I just told them that she was hiding her tears. Tears of joy, most probably. I looked at the time and discovered with great satisfaction that we only had 5 minutes to get to the restaurant in time, and quite a large flight of steps ahead of us.  - Ok, students, this is what we’re going to do: take your time to climb this stairs, but those of you who manage to get there in less than 5 minutes will get an Oreo from me. Once you get up, just wait for me in front of the Cathedral, understood?  I didn’t have to repeat myself; the kids were already running up the stairs, competing against the clock and against themselves. I quickly realized I can lose one of them so I told one of the teachers I will see them there and rushed up the stairs trying to keep an eye on the students. It was a rather large group and unfortunately not everybody was athletic and up to the task of running up some stairs, but, to my delight, it took only 7 minutes to get all of the kids in front of the church. I counted them twice, making sure everybody was there, and, filled with delight I noticed we were only two minutes late. The restaurant wasn’t that far away, so in total we would only be around 10 minutes late, which was acceptable.  - Ok, then, let’s go eat lunch!  - Uhm, Dan. We’re still missing someone.  - What? I turned to Larissa. This is everybody, I counted them twice already.  - Yes, we have all the students we are however missing Mrs. Amber. You know, one of the teachers? Jumping Jacks, seriously?! Screw her, she’s an adult, she can manage. And how on earth did she fall behind? I smiled to Larissa, took my phone out and started calling her.  - Hey, Mrs. Amber? Are you all right?  - Oh, hey Dan. Yeah, everything is in order, it’s just that those stairs were a little too much for me so I decided to take the lift on the right side. Actually, I will be there in just a few minutes, can you be a dear and come pick me up?  - Yes, sure. Of course.  I looked at my watch again. We were still in the accepted amount of time to be late. I instructed Larissa to take the group to the side of the church (Sacre Coeur, the big white church on top of the Montmartre hill, for those of you who are now being confused) and went after Mrs. Amber. I only had to wait for her 2 minutes and, just as we talked, she was there. I apologized for rushing her up the stairs, not taking in account her age (and her size/weight) and went back with her to where the group was waiting. Once we got there I just asked Laura if this was everybody and after getting a thumbs up, we headed to the restaurant. By the time we reached the restaurant, we were 15 minutes late. The guys there mumbled something like “you should’ve called to let us know” to which I just apologized and sat down at one of the tables. I didn’t care anymore, the whole day was a huge emotional rollercoaster, I was tired and all I wanted to do now was to relax for just a few moments.  The kids were having a good time. We were having snails (Escargot) for lunch, and everybody was having a blast, taking pictures and daring others to put as many as possible in their mouth at the same time. We were almost over with our meal and they were serving us dessert when my phone rang. I frowned upon seeing the program office’s number, so I just got up and headed to the window of the restaurant while I answered. I was so fed up with the girl and the Eiffel Tower story… - Hello! - Hi, this is Amir from the program office. You can relax now, and take a deep breath: one of our other delegation managers found your missing kid.  WHAT?! I HAD A MISSING KID?!?!?!?!?!!!! I turned to face the students and started counting them while trying to find who was missing. I could feel my face draining out of blood while my heart was pounding hard inside my chest. I had 20, 25, 30 kids…no, 40, 43, 44…44….45…no, I already counted her. Shit, I couldn’t focus. And shit! I only had 44. Who the hell was missing?  - Wow, thanks. That’s a huge burden off my chest, I was just about to call you guys and let you know.  WHO THE HELL WAS MISSING?! - Yeah, no worries. Now, I’ll just send you the number of the dm who found him (AHA, it was a him!) and you can talk the details with her. Take care and try to not let this happen again.  - Ok, thanks! While waiting for Amir’s message, I broke the news to the teachers. They were just as surprised as I was, and could also not figure out who was missing. As soon as I got her number, I called her:  - Hi, this is Dan, hihi (nervous laughter). I understand you have one of my students?  - Oh, hi Dan. This is Julia. Yes, his name is Mike, and he’s from New York. Is he yours?  MIKE! Of course it was Mike, that little devil.  - Yup, sweet ol’ Mike.  The teachers rolled their eyes thinking the exact same thing I was. Of course it was Mike, and how could’ve we missed him?  - Anyway, I’m in front of the Sacre Coeur and will be waiting for you there. Do you think you can get here in 5 minutes? - I can get there in 2! Thanks a lot and see in just a bit.  I told the teachers I will be right back, got out of the restaurant and ran as fast as I could. Julia was there with Mike by her side, surrounded by girls from her group. He had a cheeky smile on his face and was clearly enjoying the attention he was getting. That little devil. I thanked Julia once more, while Mike was telling his goodbyes. As soon as we were alone, on our way back to the restaurant, I asked him what happened.  - Well, the other kids from our group were mean and were making fun of me for peeing at the ladies room, as I told YOU it was very embarrassing.  - But how did they find out you went there in the first place?! - Weeeelll, I told them, but it was very embarrassing nevertheless. So they were making fun of me, because they are mean so I just went away for just a few seconds to calm down and when I came back you were gone. But then I stumbled into this wonderful group from Iowa, and I had lots of fun with them! I like them better than our group and they liked me!  “ And I’m pretty sure I’d love to have them as a group” I couldn’t help but thinking.  - Ok, well no matter how much they annoy you in the future, NEVER EVER EVER EVER!!! Leave the group by yourself ever again! In fact, I want you next to me for the remaining of this trip.  - What?! I’m being punished?  - Yes. Maybe. I don’t know, really, but the fact is I never want to lose sight of you, understood? You were lucky the Iowa group was there this time, but next time there might not be another group to save you…

Mike didn’t get to eat lunch that time. Once we got back, the teachers started yelling at him for leaving the group, and then we headed back to the bus. It was time for us to visit the Palace of Versailles as our horrid day was slowly ticking towards a finish. I sat down on the seat next to Franz, and smiled as I told him we were ready to go. 

- I just hope to get there in time, he smiled back. 

- What do you mean? We don’t have a reservation for the Versailles, all we have are the dinner reservation, in 3 hours. And that restaurant is right next to the palace. So what’s the rush? 

- Ah, you don’t know? 

- What?

- The Palace closes at 6, my dear boy. It’s already 4:15 and we still have a drive through rush hour Paris to get there. 

SERIOUSLY?! Are you frikkin’ kidding me? Give me a break, Universe!

[masklinu-blog]

The longest day. Part two.

For the next hour, my phone kept on ringing. The bus being 3 hours late meant that our whole schedule (which by then I knew) had to be delayed by 3 hours. Luckily, that was an easy day: guided tour of Paris, lunch in the Montmartre area and at the end a visit in the Versailles palace. The program office took care of everything and called all the restaurants and the guide to reschedule (and then called me to confirm, thus making Amir from the program office my best friend that morning), while all I had to do was to find a solution to keeping 45 teenagers safe for 3 hours. How to keep some teenagers in the same room for 3 hours, without setting it on fire? Easy, give them internet access. What if, as my luck had it, there was none? Well, that would prove a little more challenging….   I discussed the problem with the teachers over and over again. We even came up with the idea of travelling by metro until the middle of the city, where we would meet our guide and rendezvous with the bus later on. We dropped the idea after a cereal bowl flew past our heads and smashed on the wall next to us as part of a dare between two students. Obviously the one dared won. While one of the teachers was disciplining (using the great scientific-proven method of yelling) the great winner, the rest of us came up with a great idea: a Europe quiz, based on the stuff they already saw and were supposed to know, with promises (which we never intended to keep) of prizes! Given the competitive nature of teenagers, this not only gained their attention but actually hyped them up a little. The next few hours passed quite fast and proved to be lots of fun as they all got into the game. We even had a lightning round at the end as a tiebreaker. They were of course still loud, with the whole hotel resonating with their yelling, laughter and giggling, but at least Paris was once again a safe city.   After what seemed to be an eternity, the bus driver finally called me to let me know that he was pulling up in the parking place in front of the hotel. I was so relieved I could hear the angels sing up high in the sky and, as I shared the great news with the kids, I swear I could see the goddess Fortuna with the corner of my eye, smiling upon me. I quickly told the students to make sure they have everything they need for the day ahead of us and asked the teachers to organize them and take them outside as soon as they are ready to go. In the meanwhile, I ran ahead to meet our new bus driver and arrange the schedule for the day with him.     From the outside, the bus looked like a typical, regular bus. From the inside, though, it was just like the room of a typical 16 year old boy (yes, even mine was like that!): extremely dirty, with garbage thrown around everywhere and all sprayed with the wonderful scent of dirty, sweaty, smelly feet. The only thing missing was the basked of undone laundry thrown in a corner. The driver, a short, bald Austrian with a van-dyke beard called Franz apologized for the mess but, since his other group just got dropped at the airport and he then rushed to our hotel, he didn’t have the time to clean the mess. I didn’t care at the moment anyway, I was just happy he was there and tried to ignore the fact that the bus looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in ages and rather hope that his previous group consisted predominantly of wild baboons who created the mess in just a short drive until the airport. We talked for just a few seconds before the group joined us on the bus, accompanied by loud remarks like “phew, this stinks!” “Jason, I told you to brush your teeth!” or “hey, it smells just like Mike’s room!”. I simply exchanged a “this could be worse�� look with the teachers and I told Franz that we were ready to go. Day two of our Parisian adventure was ready to begin! As I reached for the microphone to talk a little to the kids about our day and other useless stuff, I noticed that the mic was covered in sticky duct tape. Franz noticed my rather curious look so he tried explaining: - Ja, it happened during the previous group. The teachers always grabbed the mic from one another to yell back at the kids so the wires came loose and I didn’t have time to glue them back together. I’m not sure if it still works. “Yup, definitely a group of baboons”. I thought. “How do you call a group of baboons anyway? Is it a congress? Or a troop? Or just a group? A herd! A herd of baboons. That would be funny…hmmm…”. Making a mental note to check that later, I discovered that the mic was in fact not functioning, so I just put it back, got on my seat and closed my eyes for a few minutes, trying to relax.

  Luckily, because of the delay, we missed the morning rush hour traffic, so all the streets were more or less empty (to Parisian standards anyway) and we got to our meeting point with the tour guide in no time. The guide, a short plumpy French woman was already there waiting for us. Now, I’m not really that good at reading other people, but she didn’t look all too happy about the whole delay. She didn’t seem to be much better once she reached the foul-smelling inside of the bus either. However, I’m 99% sure she was completely outraged by the broken microphone.

- And how am I supposed to do my job?! she was actually waiting for a response from me.

- Uhm…well…ahm..pfff…I …a…grdjlgfgmlt? where did all my words go? I used to be able to do this thing when they came out of my mouth and formed sentences. I looked towards Franz, hoping that he might have an answer.

- Ja…I think it works if you play with the wires a little. Let me try.

  He took the microphone and started moving the wires around while also tapping on it, hoping it will suddenly start working. Meanwhile, I sat useless with a dumb smile on my face while the guide tried introducing herself to the group by raising her voice. It didn’t really work; half of the kids didn’t pay any attention to her. However, Franz managed to show us all his technology genius and found a specific way to hold the wires and make the microphone work. It was however tricky so, the only solution was for me to hold the wires tight together while the wonderful French lady was talking on the microphone with a clear sign of delight on her face. Or was it disgust? As I said, I’m not that good with reading people. We were back on our way around Paris and try imagining this: the lady had the microphone in her hand, talking to the kids, looking straight ahead (and probably pondering how did she manage to sink that low) and from time to time giving Franz instructions on which street to take. Meanwhile, I was crouched next to her, holding the wires of the microphone, being continuously bumped against the dashboard of the bus, as I had nothing to hold on to while Franz drove as a truck driver around Paris. Two of the teachers were sleeping and I can only guess that the number of students paying attention was no higher than my number of toes. But that didn’t matter. We were on our way, we were making progress and slowly but surely this day was going to end at one point.

  Now, initially we were supposed to make 2 stops while in our guided tour: one at Trocadero square where the students could take pictures with the Eiffel tower on the background and a longer one at Notre-Dame Cathedral, where we would even visit the inside. We had to skip the first stop, though, so we headed straight to the home of the famous hunchback. She told Franz to stop somewhere across the river from the Cathedral and told him to come back and pick us up in one hour.  

- Well…can I park here?

- Obviously not; you should go to the parking lot at the Louvre.

- And how do I get there?

Seriously?! How can you be a bus driver without having the slightest sense of direction? The guide seemed to think the same thing and rolled her eyes before answering:

- Give me your map and I’ll point it out.

- I don’t have a map.

HOW THE ACTUAL F213K DON’T YOU OWN A MAP OF THE CITY YOU ARE DRIVING IN?!

- Then just drive around in circles until we come back. and with that she turned around and got off the bus.

You know what, I was starting to like this woman.

  We got the group organized and headed to the cathedral.

- I know it’s not your fault for all of this, and I actually feel sorry for you. At least I will finish dealing with all these at the end of the day but you still have a few weeks on the road with them.

- Thanks, I answered with a shy smile on my face. They’re actually not that bad once you get to know them….

- I’m sure they are, but I really don’t want to stick around that long to find out.

Well, I couldn’t blame her.

- Anyway, this is the plan: I will tell them a few things about the Notre-Dame cathedral, and then we will visit the inside of the church. Because of the sheer amount of people it will take us around 10 minutes before we actually manage to get inside, and then around half an hour to visit the whole thing. You don’t have to come with us, if you don’t want to, you can take some time off and just meet me in front of the cathedral in 45 minutes. Is that fine with you?

- That’s …. Great! Amazing! Thanks!

  I was actually looking forward for some alone time. I told the group to follow her and I started looking around for a place to buy myself a snack from.

- Hey, Daaaan?

  I turned around. In front of me was Mike, one of the kids and, at 12 years old, the youngest of the group.

- What’s up, buddy?

- I need to use the restroom and Larissa told me to go talk to you.

  Damn!! Thanks, Larissa!

- Well…uhm…is it really urgent?

- Yeah, I’ve been holding since the hotel. I would’ve went but we were playing the game, and then we had to go and I didn’t want to cause any more delays. I reaaaaaaaally need to go!!!

- Fine, let’s go find you a WC.

  Fortuna smiled upon me once more, with a public underground WC just next to the church. I quickly took him there and my heart suddenly sank once we got inside. The line of people was so long the people were waiting on the stairs that lead to the tunnel and then to the restroom itself. I sighed and looked at the time: still 40 minutes to go. That was fine, we still have time. We just sat in the line and tried to chit-chat about various stuff to take his mind away from his soon-to-be bursting bladder. 30 minutes, and we made really slow progress. But we were getting there. 25 minutes and we were halfway through. I checked my phone and discovered that I had no network connection underground. The group could’ve been sold to the slave traders by now and there was no way for me to know. 20 minutes left and in an unprecedented turn of events, there was no more line to the women’s restroom; only for the men’s. I saw my chance and went to negotiate with the two ladies that were working there, cleaning and taking the money. I showed them Mike, and probably being impressed by his angelic look and bulging eyes (clearly a sign of an imploding bladder) they agreed to let him jump the line and go to the ladies room. Ah, the sound of singing Angels was never sweeter than when Mike rushed to the WC.

  With 18 minutes to go, I went outside to check my phone and was relieved I only had a message from Amir (from the program office) regarding the girl that had to visit the Eiffel Tower later that day. In all the madness of the day, I even forgot about her. I went back inside thinking Mike would’ve been done by now. 15 minutes and he was still in there. Wow, he REALLY needed to go. 10 minutes. Was he alright in there? 5 minutes and my heart started beating faster on a crazy fast rhythm while my palms were sweating more than Eminem’s. 2 minutes and still no sign of Mike. What was going on? Now we were officially late and I was really worried. First because of his safety, second because the group was probably waiting outside for me, with no way of contacting me. And also, there was a crazy bus driver driving around in circles, with also no way of getting in touch with me…

[masklinu-blog]

The longest day. Part one.

   Finally, I got into my hotel room. It wasn’t that late, maybe it was around 10pm, but I felt exhausted. It was a day filled with running around, getting stuck in the Paris traffic, failed negotiations with my French business partners and taking care of a group of 45 New York teenagers. In Paris! I was simply tired and all I ever wanted to do was to take a shower and then get straight to sleep. As I entered my room, I threw my bag in a corner next to the door and jumped on the bed. It felt sooo good to lay down!       A hard knock on the door woke me up. I don’t know how, but, without realizing I managed to fall asleep. Ok, I know, nobody realizes when they fall asleep, but I even missed the moment when I closed my eyes. How did this happen? Was I really THAT tired? I leaped out of bed, staggered to the door and opened it, still not feeling very certain on my feet. In front of me, Laura was furious. - I am tired of this whole bullshit! the last word was whispered so that it didn’t echo on the hotel hallway.    I was still in the process of waking up and didn’t really understand (nor care, to be completely honest) what she was talking about. Ignoring the fact that I looked puzzled and could barely focus on her, she went on in a loud whisper in that strong Brooklyn accent of hers: - So, guess what?! she asked me with a smile full of sorrow and didn’t even wait for me to open my mouth to answer. Tonight that spoiled Brat called her mom in tears because she missed the Eiffel Tower, like that’s any of our fault! So the furious mom called the program office, started yelling at them, after all, she did pay over 7 thousand bucks for this trip! So then the program office called me, started yelling at ME, even though it was their idea in the first place. So now, tomorrow she and a friend of her choosing will have to go to the Tower.    I frowned, trying to look upset, outraged and interested in what she was telling me. Was she noticing that I was holding on to the door so I didn’t fall? -Supervised by one of us, obviously. -Yes, of course, I tried mumbling to look as if I was paying attention. I couldn’t help admiring that she was still talking even though the last breath of air she took was before I opened my door. -Buuuuuut they are not allowed to miss any of the regular day’s schedule. So now we have to deal with this shit. What do you think, can you manage to do it somehow that everything works out? - Pffff…. I sighed, sounding like an old person sitting down. Uhm….yeah, I guess I can work something out. Maybe after we finish the day’s program I can ask the bus driver to drop them off at the tower or something. I’m not sure yet, I’ll have to check.    And by checking, I meant first to find out what we were supposed to do that day and then see if we could’ve really done that or not. Even though I was already on the road for almost 4 weeks now, I was still extremely lazy and only read the program to find out what we were supposed to do with only a few hours before actually doing it. I’ll admit, it was a risky business and completely unprofessional but, since it worked until that point, why change it, right? - Al right, then. I trust you’ll do fine! We still have 2 weeks on the road with them and I’m already tired of all the shit they’ve been pulling. I swear I’m this close to just jump on the first back home! Anyway, you should get some sleep, you look terrible. Good night.   I mumbled some sort of an answer, closed the door and went back to the bed. Screw the shower, I’ll just do it tomorrow. I set multiple alarms on my phone, and fell asleep in an instant. Confused? Let me clear that up for you. Back then I was working as a Delegation Manager (or tour guide if you want to be a dick about it) for groups of American teenagers. In that particular moment I was with my 2nd group of the summer, and I was counting the days till everything was over. Don’t get me wrong, they were nice kids, but separately. Put all together in the same group, they were like Satan’s minions mixed with my worst nightmares.   The next morning I could barely wake up. For some reason, my eyes just wouldn’t stay open. By the time I actually managed to stand up and function at minimum capacity, I was already late for breakfast. I simply decided not to eat breakfast that day, prepared all my paper work for that day, and rushed downstairs. In 10 minutes we were supposed to be leaving!   The group was so loud I could hear them from the 1st floor. As I got in the breakfast room, the kids were seated around their tables, talking loudly, making jokes and laughing. They were having a good time, and understandably so. They were a bunch of teenagers living life at fullest in trip around Europe. I headed to the teacher’s table (there were 4 teachers accompanying the students) and on my way I passed “the brat” that caused all the commotion (her name was actually Kristina) surrounded by all her friends. Her eyes were puffy and red, and looked as though she was crying the whole night. - Morning, guys! I said as soon as I reached the teachers - Morning, sleepyhead! answered Larissa while sipping her coffee. We are all ready and waiting for you. - Great! In this case, as soon as you finish your coffee, we can go. Let me just go talk to the bus driver and let him know regarding the tower thing. - Ah, the tower thing! she said with a huge smile on her face. I trust you found a solution already? - Yeah, of course, it’s all being taken care of. We have an easy day today anyway. Ok, I’ll go talk to the guy and let you know when it’s ok to board the bus.   I was getting pretty good at faking it. I made a mental note to actually check my program while on the bus and went out to try to find my driver and explain him the situation. I got out of the hotel and stopped all of a sudden at the top of the stairs. I started looking around, and could feel my pulse dropping. The parking lot was empty, with no sign of my bus. What the?! With panic in my heart, I started looking around the hotel, running around the parking lot, hoping to catch a glimpse of a bus, somehow hidden behind a tree. No matter how much I tried, the parking lot remained empty and the bus stubbornly refused to appear. This couldn’t be real…   I sat down on the stairs in front of the hotel, trying to think straight. My head was full with thoughts on how to deal with it and what to do next. “Call the program office” “Act cool, maybe they won’t notice” “Ditch those losers and run away with the money” “Blame it on the kids, gather all their money in order to rent a new bus for the day AND THEN ditch them and run away with even more money” “Check with the reception desk if the guy is still in his hotel room”. Somehow, the last one stuck, although obviously, if he was in his room this wouldn’t have explained the missing bus. - Bonjour! I’m the Delegation Manager of the American group …. I was trying not to look stupid for what I was about to ask and even threw a shy smile in the guy’s direction. He simply stared at me, with clear content in his eyes that I just mixed his language with English. - Anyway, what I wanted to ask is …uhm…. If maybe …uhm… our bus driver …uhm… I mean, could you check our bus’s driver room? I can’t seem to get a hold of him. - I’ll see what I can do. he grabbed the list with the details of our group and started going down, looking for his room number. - Thank you! Merci beaucoup! As answer, the receptionist threw me the typical French “I’ll rape you if you ever butcher my language again” look. I could hear my group from down the corridor, being as loud as a pair of 3 year-olds that just discovered that hitting a stick on a metal pot makes a sound. - Yes, your bus driver checked out this morning. - What? He just…left us? - Yes, and I can’t imagine why. in the background, the 3 year-olds added another pot to their drumming. - Right. Thanks. I went back outside hoping that the bus somehow reappeared and took my phone out. I knew what I had to do, so, with sorrow in my heart, I called my program office.

- Hello, this is Amir from the program office. - Hi! This is Dan, group code bla-bla. I am in Paris and we are about to start our day, but I seem to have a small problem, in the sense that I don’t have a bus driver. Nor a bus, for that matter, hihi (nervous laughter). Uhm…do you happen to know something about it? - Ooook, let me just check that really fast. I could hear him typing and talking slowly to himself and still no sign of anything bus-related in sight. I was starting to sweat. - Ok, right. So, according to my information, you will be getting a new bus driver today, an Austrian one, which you will have until the end of the program. However, I don’t understand why he isn’t there yet. Let me just get in touch with him really quick and I’ll call you back afterwards.   After I got the call back from the program office I went back inside in the breakfast room where the teachers looked as though they were about to explode. - Please tell me we are ready to go! I can’t take this noise anymore! - Weeeellll, funny story. It turns out that we get a new bus driver today, but …uhm… he will be a little late, because he first has to drop another group off at the airport and then he will be driving straight to us. - A little late? How much? - 3 hours. - You must be kidding ME! and with a “thump” Larissa’s head dropped on the table. The other 3 teachers looked as though Christmas has just been officially canceled. What to do for 3 hours in a hotel with the noisiest teenagers in the world? To be continued.

[masklinu-blog]

The Battle

   So it all came down to this. All this time, dreaming and training, just for this moment: the battle. As the armies took their position on the battlefield, he looked around him. Andrew was only a soldier, sitting in the first line. When the battle will begin, everything will go down to luck. Skill has nothing to do with it; or at least not his skills, but his commander’s skills. And this time, the commander was his King as well.    It was not uncommon for Kings to take part in battles. Their rivals also came with their King. Actually, the simple thought that the King was there, on the battlefield, sitting behind them was somehow reassuring. It gave the simple ones, such as Andrew, hope. Who better to command them than the King himself? Who else to trust? The Knights?    Nobody could stand the Knights. Sitting on top of their horses, always arrogant, always looking for their own glory, always doing “small sacrifices” (the normal soldiers, peasants as they called them, soldiers like Andrew) so they can save their own skin. Looking down on everybody else (except on HHMM the King and Queen, of course), giving orders, acting snotty and jumping with their horses over other soldiers. Bleah!    “You cannot trust a knight! Ask anyone. When everything begins, the only person you can trust is you. And the soldier sitting next to you. And the one behind you, watching your back. And the King, of course! And the Queen. You know what? Just trust anybody except those filthy knights”      This was Marvin’s personal motto. He and Marvin were best friends ever since training. They had to be best friends anyway; they HAD to trust each other. Marvin was the guy sitting right next to him, the one who will watch his back. He HAD to trust at least him.    He looked around. Marvin was sitting on his right, clearly nervous. It was just one of those moments in which you can’t stand still. You have to do something, otherwise the pressure will win you over. Marvin was checking his sword, then checking his armor. Fixing his helmet better, taking off his gloves, drying his sweaty hands, putting his gloves back on, and again checking his sword. Everybody had his own “ritual” of things he did to keep himself busy. Andrew, for instance, was looking around.   He had to admit, as he was looking down on the perfect line made out of soldiers, that all in all, it looked kind of … Majestic. Impressive, even. Somehow scary in the same time. Would definitely scare the enemy right away. That is, if the enemy wouldn’t have been using the same formation. And yes, the enemy army did look fierce and scary.   And then he noticed the silence. Nobody was doing any sound. It was as if the whole world stopped. The moment to begin, the moment to end everything once and for all was here and everybody knew that. They were all holding their breath thinking of who knows what, waiting nervously for the first move. And Andrew could bet, that every other soldier, was praying in his mind, just as he was: “Please God, not me, don’t let him pick me first”.   The command of “Advance!” given by their King was so powerful, it reminded Andrew of his childhood and the stories about God he would listen every Sunday morning when his mother would drag him to church.   He could never stand going to church. Wearing those itchy “good clothes”, and having to sit there next to old people that smelled funny, instead of playing with the other kids. Well, to be fair, all the other kids were there as well, but none of them was actually happy to be there. And old father Tuck, the priest, knew that, so he did his best to try to make them respect God. His favorite method was that of telling stories in which God, angry on his people (for some reason), kept on smiting those who did not respect him, while yelling angrily at them. He could still clearly remember old father Tuck, still drunk from a night before, trying to imitate God’s voice by yelling as hard as he possibly could: “Burn down in flames, you unthankful bastard! Fear my wrath and my smiting power! Fear and respect me! And my loyal and humble servants too! Give them ale and you darned kids stop throwing potatoes at them and calling them funny names! Or else I will smite you all!” And as he yelled that, he would always finish by passing out on the church’s floor. As Andrew was only a child at that time, he did not yet realize that the passing out was due to the alcohol level in his blood and he always thought it was some sort of demo of God’s smiting powers. Whatever it was, it did the trick and made him fear and respect God.    Reminding himself of good times when he was still in the safety of his childhood home, Andrew blacked out for a few seconds, just sitting there with a stupid grin on his face and missing the beginning of the battle. When he finally recovered, the fighting was hard in the middle of the battlefield, and the King was discussing strategies with his bishops (who, for some reason, were considered the Kingdom’s best tacticians) and his Queen.   “I think I blacked out for a few seconds. What happened?”   “Blacked out?” Marvin was outraged. “How can you black out just like that?”     “Never mind that, just tell me what has happened!”   “Well, we got there first” said Marvin pointing to a vague spot somewhere in the center “but then they immediately sent a counter-attack. I honestly saw that one coming, I don’t know how HM missed that. One of their knights came and took down poor James. Right now they are trying to find a method to stop the knight from advancing. They thought of sending one of our knights, but the bastard won’t cooperate. He considers himself to valuable and said he won’t go there without proper back up. *sight* I bet it will come to us poor soldiers to attack that Knight. Sometimes I feel just like a pawn.”   Stuff like this made the Knights really unpopular among the soldiers. In his childhood, Andrew always wanted to become a Knight. Other kids would laugh in his face and his father would smack him telling him to “be bloody quiet, and put all of the jewelry faster in the bag so we could get out of here!” And still, his dream would hang on to him. He dreamt of riding his horse and fighting honorably for his King. He dreamt of other soldiers looking up at him and cheering whenever he would show up, shouting “hooray, we are saved, the Knight is here!” But then he found out that he had to be of noble blood to become a Knight. So he just enrolled as a regular soldier instead and started hating the Knights from the first (and only) day of training. There was nothing honorable about them, nothing to make him want to look up at them anymore, and definitely there was nothing there to…   Sudden cheering from their side made him wake up.   “What? What happened?!”   Marvin stopped cheering and looked shocked at Andrew:   “Really? Blacked out, AGAIN? REALLY?!”   “Shut up and just tell me what happened” Andrew started to blush a little. He wasn’t proud of missing the battle of his life.   “Well, our Queen decided to take the matters in her own hands and went straight to the Knight and swept him right off his feet. AND, we got one of their soldiers as well. Pretty soon, I’m telling you boy, pretty soon we will kick them right back where they belong!”   Marvin was that kind of guy who was always confident in everything that was related to him. He honestly believed he could:   a. build a house by himself. The best house in the world, which would resist every disaster known to man: floods, fires, angry mobs, tax collectors, you name it. Sometimes, depending on how much ale he drank, he even suggests his house would keep away Death itself.   b. build a ship by himself. The best ship that ever sailed the seas, sailing further away than everyone has ever sailed before, all the way to the end of the world, of course, under his command.   c. command the greatest army that ever roamed the world. He saw himself as both the best tactician and the best warrior in the world, being able to win battles against fierce armies of great numbers by himself, armed only with a pointy banana.  And the list would go on. Of course, he never touched a nail, sat foot on a boat or win a fight (not even as a kid) but would still praise himself.   “ANDREW! Wipe that stupid grin off your face lad and advance! The King needs you!” Marvin started to be a little pissed off at Andrew for not paying attention.  “What? Where?”  “Just make 2 steps in front of you and protect that general area!” The King himself was also a little annoyed, but that was maybe because he already lost a couple of his best soldiers.   Holding his breath, keeping his eyes shut and expecting the worse, Andrew advanced 2 steps, as told. Nothing happened. The battle continued on the other side of the battlefield. He opened his eyes and started breathing again. “This time I will pay attention” he kept telling himself.  He always blacked out, even as a kid. Started dreaming about other stuff, no matter where he was and what he was doing. This was the reason his father was now in prison. He blacked out while watching his back and even though he did saw the constable coming, he did not react as he was supposed to. His father was therefore caught while “taking the Kings crown to make some measurements so I could build our most beloved King a new and better crown”. Somehow, the constable didn’t buy it.     The hit came from above with such force that it knocked Andrew off his feet in a matter of seconds. All he could see as he was falling to the ground were a pair of shiny black boots and inside of them and looking straight at Andrew was a bishop. An enemy bishop. He was unconscious before he could feel the ground. He was out of the battle.

   As he resumed his position next to Marvin, Andrew could not help but wonder what happened in that last battle, so it was no surprise that before saying “Hi” he asked:

  “So? Did we win?”

  “No. We lost.” Marvin was disappointed. “This means 10-3 for the blacks. But do not despair, my young friend; we will get them again someday. This is how Chess works. Sometimes we win, sometimes they win, sometimes you last a whole game, or you get knocked out right at the beginning. We will get them, you’ll see”

   And, as he was looking around, preparing himself for the next game, Andrew was confident this time they will check mate the enemy in no time.

[masklinu-blog]

Sandfree pecker

Some while back I was out drinking with a few friends. We were all having a good time and got to that point (you know the one, after the 3rd beer) when we discussed all sorts of random weird topics. The topic of that night was circumcision and how on earth did the people come up with it in the first place! We started making assumptions, had a good laugh, obviously some wise guys took out their smart phone to look it up on Wikipedia. But before they could find out, one of the girls, dead serious, says the following thing: - Oooh, no. They invented circumcision to keep the sand out of their…you know…..thing.    You know how, after someone says something stupid, you have the feeling that the whole world stopped turning? We felt as if the whole bar went silent and everybody turned to look at her. The beers were overflowing under the draft that the bartender was still pressing while staring at her. I swear even some of the cars passing by braked all of a sudden just so they could catch a better glimpse of her. Nobody can be THAT stu….oh, no, wait. A lot of people can be that stupid. But let’s give her another chance, maybe she was joking: - What? You’re joking, right?    Her seriousness hurt more than Brazil losing 7 to 1 to Germany on home soil (the pain the Brazilians felt, obviously). - Nooo, really. They got a lot of sand inside their shaft so that’s how they came up with the idea of circumcision.    We all looked at each other for a few seconds and then we burst into laughter. And, while fighting for air, my imagination went back in time, the year 2400 BC, in Egypt:

“Imhotep (give me a break, this was the only Egyptian name I could think of. And yes, I know it’s from “The Mummy”) was hanging out with his buddy, chilling under a palm tree, sipping beer and watching the slaves build a temple.

- So, dudeothep, I’ve got this problem lately, I keep getting sand inside my junk and it really burns when I pee. No matter how much I shake, it’s stuck in there! It’s like I’m caring the whole desert! Does this happen to you?

- Oh yeah, I used to have it all the time, but I went to this priest, Popeotep and he cured me in no time! I’ll give you the address.

  So Imhotep, with hope in his heart went to see the famous priest that could finally solve his problem.

- No problem, said the priest with a huge smile on his face. It happens to all of us, but not to worry! I have the solution right here! Just put your schlong on that table over there and we’ll be done before you can say “the Nile”.

  And saying this, he took a huge machete from one of his shelves. Imhotep, seeing the machete, jumped back with fear:

- Whoa, whoa whoa!!!! What are you doing with that THING?

- What, this? Ooooh, right! You see, in order to keep the sand out, we have to cut the tip of your johnson. Ugly business, I know, but…that’s how it is.

- Are you INSANE?! Stay away from me, you’re not cutting anything from me! The tip is the best part!

- I knoooow it looks a little weird, but as I said. If you want a sand-free pecker, we have to cut it.

- But…can’t I just…like…wear another cloth underneath? Sort of like an under cloth? Or an underwear?

- A cloth?! Oh, nonononononooooononono, my son. You don’t want to anger the Gods, do you, now? Look, you can read all about it on this papyrus I wrote slash drew.

- The Gods? Which Gods?

- I dunno, Osiris and sht. Hell, you don’t know either, all of them. Yeah, all of the Gods. They frown each time they see an uncut willy.

- Well…if the Gods want me to do it….

  So Imhotep put his tool back on the table and braced himself for what was about to come. What a simple solution to a man’s everyday problem…”