Latest Article|September 3, 2020|Free::
Making Grown Men Cry Since 1992
I am alone in Egypt, riding in a cab driven by Gopardo. We are driving through a heavy snowstorm. The streets are icy and the winds are howling. We come to a stop sign and merge onto a highway with a 60 percent grade. The one-lane road climbs straight up the side of a huge, pink and orange sandstone mountain. We are soon above the storm and climbing in a line of other cars past high, billowing clouds bathed in sunset colors. I can feel we are beginning to slow down and I worry that if we slow to a stop we’ll start to slip backwards. I voice my complaint to Gopardo. We finally arrive on top in a small village. I see the Mayor and another city official fishing by the road over a cliff. They get their lines tangled together and in their struggle to get them free, they both slip off their perches and dangle in the air, clinging to their poles. Outside on firm ground, I want to go into the hotel and get a room, but looking down I see that I have bare feet. I hope that my dad was able to retrieve my stuff for me from my last hotel room. Looking down again, I see that I am now wearing my crocks. He must have been successful. I enter a small Greek restaurant and sit down at a picnic table with G and her dad. The menu, when opened, contains small packets of dates and almonds wrapped in clear plastic. I see my co-worker, M, sitting on the floor. I hand him a menu. He explains he can’t be bothered with such small orders. The owner woman emerges from the kitchen carrying a large, cloth-wrapped bundle for him containing wheels of cheese and giant rounds of bread filled with layers of butter and olives.