Terry is filling in while the staff is on vacation. My apologies.- Editor
It was a hot, dry day in a country I found myself in after taking a wrong turn at Albuquerque. (Side note: never buy an ACME map from a guy named Bugs.)
It may have been Scotland, but it was probably in Asia. The elephant I was riding may have been a clue.
My guide spoke with a British twang and his dry, silent wit reminded me of home.
After hours of telling him my tales of adventure, his fingers in his ears chanting out in praise of my heroism, we reached the main intersection- a clearing in the wild filled with animals traveling just like me. Feeling a kinship to these four legged- winged migrants, we entered the clearing to join the pack.
Suddenly the animals scattered, right in the middle of my story about an altogether uneventful 8-hour layover at the Atlanta airport. My guide stood pointing at an approaching man imitating a Heisman trophy statue. Dodging left and right, he seemed desperate in his movements as what I thought were dragonflies, but later saw to be arrows, flew past, thrown by a dozen brightly clad, shouting angry men.
My guide and I froze- the circus of men flew past within a few dozen yards, oblivious to our existence. The football star in the fashionable archeologist hat had broken free of the hoard, yelling for his yak who must have run off, since the runner dived quickly into the nearby river and hijacked a fisherman and his WATERCRAFT- visible just to the left of the clearing. The angry men continued their screaming and throwing until the plane was well into the air. They ran, following its path.
The clearing had returned to its natural chatter. My guide, the nearby gossiping animals, and myself had been the sole observers of this exchange. A loud cry from my elephant startled us from thought; my guide looked back at me, shrugged his shoulders without smiling, and we existed the clearing, returning to the well trampled trail leading away from all the excitement and onward towards Albuquerque.