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January 31, 2005
Travel Story #1
I was hanging out with my dad and mentioned I wanted to go to another country. "Hey dad, I want to go to another country."
"Why would you want to do something like that? You don't have time for something like that."
"Sure I do. I've got time to do whatever I want."
"But you won't be able to spend very long. You have to go back to work."
"I know."
That's about all it was. I expressed a desire. I didn't say anything like now, tomorrow, or even next week. But the next day when we were again hanging out, probably trying to find the cheapest cup of coffee - because that's what we do, he said, "Let's go to Istanbul."
"Turkey?"
"Yeah."
"Cool. When?"
"Today."
"Can we?"
"I thought you said you had time."
"I do, but can we just leave today?"
"Yeah, sure. Why not?"
"Ok. Let's go."
"How about Amman?"
"I like Istanbul -- but whatever's cheaper."
So we stopped at a travel agency and inquired about the cost of tickets to both places. Both were cheap enough, we chose Istanbul. The travel agent asked if we had any other questions. I asked about the cost of Turkish coffee. My dad nodded. Nodded as in, good question. She looked confused. "When's the soonest we can leave?"
"The next flight is leaving in 3 hours. Is that too soon?"
"No, it's perfect."
We bought tickets, packed up a few things -- enough for a 3 day stay. "Shit. Shorts. It's going to be hot right? I don't have any shorts."
"It's a Muslim country. They don't wear shorts."
"They don't? Are you sure? Don't they get hot?"
"No. They're used to it. They still wear beards. I'd shave my beard before I felt the need to wear shorts."
"Good point. I'll grow a beard starting ... now." -- and ran out to catch a bus to the airport. We were hurried, but not frenzied. "We're going to Istanbul!"
"Yeah!"
"What do you want to see there?"
"I don't know. What's in Instanbul? the Hagia Sofia? Let's see that. I want to go to the Asia Minor part. I want to step in Asia. That'd be awesome. Something I could tell my grandkids about."
"You have to get laid first, buddy."
"Shut up. Dads aren't supposed to talk like that."
"Do they have beer there? They better have beer there."
"Why wouldn't they?"
"It's a Muslim country."
"Oh. Right. But it's a secular Muslim country. Secular means alcohol."
"Yeah. Let's hope so. But just in case, I'm sneaking some in."
"Dad! You can't sneak alcohol in if they don't allow it. Don't they cut off hands for that?"
"I'll just fill a water bottle with some vodka. They'll never know."
On the plane, Turkish Airways, my dad turned to me. "Why are we doing this?"
"We're going to see Turkey. Istanbul!"
"Oh yeah. I can't believe you talked me into this."
"What? All I said was I wanted to go to another country. You told me you wanted to go to Istanbul. Today."
"You talked me into it."
"I did not. You most definitely said, 'today.'"
"It better be worth it."
"We're seeing the world. Come on. How could it not be worth it?"
"What is there to see in Istanbul besides the Hagia Sofia? The Topkapi and the Bazaar?"
"I don't know? Have you ever seen those?"
"In books. That's enough for me."
"Come on, dad. They're not going to turn this plane around for you. You're going."
"But the girls aren't even hot."
"How do you know?"
"Look at the stewardesses."
"That doesn't mean anything."
"This is the official airline. They always put their best on show as stewardesses on the national airlines."
"Oh. I hope not."
We landed in Istanbul about 10pm local time. After about 15 minutes on the plane stopped in the middle of the tarmack a bus pulled up. The bus was to take us to the terminal. We all crammed into it - an entire plane crammed into one bus. It was standing room only- the bus had no seats, everyone had one arm up holding the rail as the bus left.
When we stopped at the terminal and got off the bus my dad complained, "Damn. It stunk on there. What a way to start a trip."
"Come on. We're in Istanbul! We're here!"
We got a little farther into the airport, but before we could get to our luggage was -- between us and and our luggage stood -- customs. But not just customs where they look at your passport and try to intimidate you into confessing that you've smuggled liquor into the country under the guise of mineral water, the kind that checks for visas. "Shit. You need a visa? Why didn't the lady at the travel agency tell us?"
"Wait. Look. We can buy one right over there. And they're only $20 Euro."
"20 Euro? What a rip off. I've never paid to get into a country before and they want $20 Euro."
"Wait. No. It says $100 for Americans."
"What? 20 Euro for everyone and $100 for Americans? What is this bullshit?"
"No. Not everyone. A bunch of countries are free. Some are only 10 Euro."
"They're trying to fuck us. I'm not going to get fucked. Let's get the next plane out of this fucking place."
"What?"
"Yeah. I'm not paying them to go into their god damn filthy country. Especially not $100."
"Come on. We came all the way down here. We can't just turn around."
"Fuck these people. I'm not going to give them a god damn penny. -- 100 dollars. That's a fucking rip off. Everyone else is fucking free and they try to fuck us just because we have money. Fuck them."
"We tried to force them into helping us with a war."
"I didn't do any fucking thing with that war. I'm not giving these greedy bastards my money."
"Fine. I'll pay for you."
"No way. Don't you get it? The point isn't who pays; I'm not going to step foot in this country. Not one foot."
"But we've got to get our luggage."
"They better bring it to me."
"What if they don't?"
"Fuck them. They can have it. I'm not going to pay them a penny."
Posted by calculatoronfire at January 31, 2005 03:02 PM
Comments
When reading your posts, I spend half of the time trying to figure out which parts are true and which parts are fiction. Then I realize it doesn't matter because I'm laughing either way. I apologize if your story was traumatic and my laughing is insensitive. You can pretend I said "crying" if that's the case.
Also, thank you for tutoring math in Hampden. I live in Hampden and am all too aware of the lack of math skills among the youth when they're counting back my change for my steak & cheese sub. Language skills may be subpar as well, but they usually don't affect my steak & cheese.
Posted by: Sway at January 31, 2005 03:51 PM
Oh man, I thought my trip to Paris was spur of the moment. I only planned for about 2 weeks prior. I tip my hat to you.
Posted by: anonymouscoworker at January 31, 2005 04:14 PM
S - Last night I did a little language tutoring. I got the girl to write a note to her friend.
No. Wait. She just grabbed some paper and did it, but I insisted that she let me proof read it. That way we'd be working on her language skills.
I pointed out her mistakes and she said, "Yeah. I know. So what?"
Does that happen with your steak & cheese subs?
"Excuse me. There seems to be a problem with my sub. There's no cheese on this sub."
"Yeah. I know. So what?"
I know some things that I write SEEM fictional. So what? Actually, what is it that seems fictional? I hope it's a sad part that got you crying. I don't want other people to cry when they find out what goes on in my non-sad life.
AcW - if you think that is spur of the moment, you should come grocery shopping. When I'm not flirting with the middle-aged cashiers telling them how much I love Neil Diamond I'm doing some reckless, unplanned shopping.
Posted by: brian at February 1, 2005 03:54 PM
Mostly the Hagia Sofia seemed fictional to me and the part about the stewardesses made me cry.
Posted by: Sway at February 1, 2005 05:59 PM
The Hagia Sofia ia real. It was one of the only things I heard of before going. It's a christian church turned into a mosque right near the old sultan's palace. I have no idea what it looks like on the inside because you have to pay like $30 or something like that to get in and I'm cheap.
And the stewardesses. They almost made me cry as well.
I'll continue with more fictional SEEMING stuff. (think: stabbing & prison)
Posted by: brian at February 1, 2005 07:01 PM