On the road again, lah lah lah lah, on the road again; this time with:
- a government official who had been at the trough so long, I will simply refer to her as Fat Chick. True to form she failed to disclose that she had been suspended for her long fingers and creative accounting, and that she this was one last adventure for her and a waste of money for us.
- an activist who could strip a gun and put it back together in 30 seconds while blindfolded. I’m told that’s impressive so I will call her Cool Chick; and
- a big kahuna with lots of money and reputation who I will call Big Kahuna.
Our party convened midday-ish, high noon would have been more appropriate. We began the long drive to the northern reaches of what, for all intents and purposes, had become my universe. I lived it, breathed it, dreamed it, ate it, had no life outside of it, you get the picture. In truth that part of my universe was truly majestic, and even the irreligious and agnostics would be hard-pressed to say one couldn’t see the hand of God in action.
Before every trip we always asked for dietary restrictions. What I should have asked for was a list of phobias. Cool chick didn’t do boats, Big Kahuna didn’t do light aircraft and Fat Chick was just a poser who stole everyone else’s phobia and magnified it by ten… thousand!
We hopped onto the boat, I am not talking dinghy, I am talking boat, big boat one that takes ten or twelve people. At the sight of the first ripple, Cool Chick was ready to jump overboard and take her chances with the crocs and the hippos. Public liability issues aside, I liked her. The only solution was to trip her and jump on her when she was down and stay on her until we were back on dry land. She was unarmed, so I was prepared to take my chances. I wrestled her to the ground, sat on her, and then I drew a blank. Ah a lullaby – that’s comforting isn’t it? I searched the memory banks – rock-a-bye baby was not going to do it. In fact neither were any of the others I could come up with – too violent, a clear reflection of my state of mind. Soothing crooning noises would have to do. We made it safely to land. Cool Chick knelt down and kissed terra firma. Then she got into a car and refused to take any other mode of transport for the rest of the trip. As it turns out this was helpful because I had more passengers than plane seats.
Between the 206 and the maule we had about nine places. It took us a good hour to strap Big Kahuna into his seat. Seeing a grown man cry is touching, but only in certain circumstances. Having settled everyone in the 206, I took my place in the front passenger seat of the maule. I had been experiencing some air sickness of late and I had worked out that if I sat there I could manage the show and tell part without incident. Enter Fat Chick. She too got airsick, only when she got airsick it took days, no weeks, maybe even months for her to recover. I did what every good host would do. Swore under my breath, cursed her and gave her my place. I crouched in the back of the maul – in those days I was far more compact, and we had lift off. We banked right and I began to share insights amid the oohing and aahing of the group.
Now I am not one to disappoint, so at the very first air-pocket I shared my lunch with everyone. My demanding public were not going to let me off, however, and the interpretation continued between oopses and aahs. After what seemed like forever we went in for the landing. I flung the rear door open and rushed to the toilet embracing the cold bowl as one does a long lost friend. I emerged, somewhat green and miserable for the drive to the hotel. After some rest, I joined our guests at dinner. Fat Chick arrived late, doing her best to look fragile. It was too soon to eat, she claimed, she was still nauseous from the flight. She smiled wanly, only to reveal the remnants of her very healthy afternoon snack between her teeth. A whole baby chicken and if the accounts are to be believed it was a tussle to get her to leave the feathers and the bones!