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| Articles: Pressing Concerns |
Posted by
Monolycus on Monday, June 05, 2006 - 05:28 PM PST
I'm not trying to say that world travellers are invulnerable. We are almost all of us perpetually down with the latest, greatest microbial infection making its rounds and it is not, after all, unheard of for one of us to go temporarily blind from food poisoning and hit our heads on the bathroom sink as we scramble around trying to remember which local dieties would be most appropriate for us to offer our firstborn to. I'm just saying that I wasn't particularly concerned about the fact that the guy driving the cab I was in was obviously trying very hard to get us both killed.
There are only three types of cab drivers here, in my experience. The first type is the guy who knows a sucker when he sees one. He'll give you a grand tour of the city with the meter running knowing full well that if someone asked you where you were with a gun to your head, you might be able to narrow the answer down to the right country... but only after checking your passport first. The second type is a stable, family-oriented man who only wants to do his job and return safely to the comfort of his home. We hate this guy. He will invariably drive slowly and cautiously behind the biggest truck he can find and not only will you need another shave by the time you finally reach your destination, the cost of the trip will end up being almost as much as the one demanded by the tour guide driver (that is, roughly the same as the gross domestic product of some smaller nations). The third type of cab driver, represented by the guy sitting in the driver's seat during this latest excursion, didn't want you in his cab in the first place and speeds precipitously around to either get you to your destination as quickly as possible or to bring about a merciful and incendiary death, whichever comes first.
You have probably gathered that I am back in the Republic of Korea. I had something of a time getting out of the 'States. I was scheduled for a five-hour layover in Atlanta, GA, because Delta Airlines figured that 18 hours in the air didn't make for a long enough trip and I was resigned to spending that five hours replenishing my body's nicotine levels for the long haul over Siberia. Fortunately, they provided me with some distraction to while away the downtime by telling me they wouldn't let me on the connecting flight without a return ticket (they assured me that immigration in Korea would demand to see it. They didn't.) nor would they put me on a flight home (which was an equally attractive option to me, but not within the realm of regulations). So it seemed the only way to make it out of the purgatory of Atlanta was to buy an unnecessary ticket.
Now, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck; I know when I am being taken advantage of, so I did what any hardened veteran of air travel would have done by way of countering this unfair treatment. I stood at the head of the line at the departure gate and cried like a baby. After two hours of this, they realised I wouldn't budge and they could not get the other customers through. So they raised the stakes and moved me to a ticket window where they calmly explained to me that unless I surrendered nine hundred more of my favorite dollars, there was nothing they could do. I explained that I didn't have any money, knew nobody in Atlanta and cried some more. This might have worked if I had been able to hold out for another hour, but I was pushing four hours of world-class weeping and was dehydrating myself. I finally caved and boarded the grueling flight with a credit card feeling $900 lighter in my pocket than it had been.
(As an aside, I should mention that I was assured there would be a $75 penalty when I cancelled the ticket. There wasn't. It was $230.)
Anyway, as I said, I wasn't particularly concerned about this cab driver who was trying to kill me now. He had an honest face and seemed to have something to live for. He was happily chatting away on a cell phone and even with my limited Korean I was able to pick up that he seemed to be very motivated to find out what the person on the other end of the phone was wearing.
I had more important things on my mind than suicidal cab drivers. To begin with, I seem to be particularly susceptible to those microbes I mentioned earlier and have been sick for far longer than I have a right to be. Of course, it might not be the microbes. The sandstorms that blow in from Mongolia every year have been going on now since February without a break, and the evil dust has made my eyes, nose and throat feel as though they have been scoured with a Brillo pad.
I'm not trying to be fiercely nationalistic when I call this Asian dust "evil". It's just that, well, where I come from, we know how to make dust. Our dust is honest, good dust made out of earth, skin particles and bits of pet dander that give it a wholesome dustiness that make you swell with patriotic pride when you sweep it out from under your couch. The dust here is composed mainly of heavy metals like deuterium, arsenic, lead, industrial solvents and, if I'm not mistaken, dried squid. It's such an unfriendly dust that Japan has reportedly offered Mongolia several million yen to buy wet-dry vacs so that they can keep from sending it over every damned spring.
But even the yellow dust storm was small potatoes to me at this particular moment. I watched as we skidded by the Camp Henry US Army base and wasn't even particularly impressed that they had festooned the razor wire surrounding it with colorful paper lanterns in honor of Buddha's birthday. The world outside just seemed to me to be so much neon-backlit bullshit.
The thing that was on my mind was that, not for the first time, I had nearly $50 worth of cheap booze in my bladder. Now, I'd read once that the astronomer Tycho Brahe died as the result of a burst urinary bladder after having been forced to sit through a particularly long and pointless meeting, so I knew that such a thing was possible. These bits of trivia weigh very heavily on me and had it not been for that tiny, nagging little tidbit I might have just decided that such things don't happen and gotten more enjoyment from the exhilarating near misses and skidding turns my cab driver was treating me to. As it was, I wasn't even terribly impressed when he tried to capsize his taxi turning off of the Apsan beltway at 65 miles per hour.
I did make it home in one piece and I did give my (thankfully!) western-style toilet a test run to make certain that it was still in good working condition. I know that there are those out there who are concerned with my well-being and I thought it would be remiss for me not to reassure them on this point. I hope you all are doing as well as can be reasonably expected and I hope to hear from you when it's convenient.
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Average Rating : 5.0
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| Pressing Concerns | Login/Create an account | 13 Comments |
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Re: Pressing Concerns
by Starlight on Jun 06, 2006 - 05:37 AM
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Even though the trip getting back to Korea sounds like a sideways trip through hell, I'm glad to hear you made it back there in one piece.
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Re: Pressing Concerns
by Domkitten (saradevil@saradevil.net)
on Jun 07, 2006 - 04:37 AM
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http://www.saradevil.net
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Ah yes, the driver that has something to live for and actually goes out of his way to not get us killed by driving slowly and obeying all traffic laws....
we hate that guy!
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Re: Pressing Concerns
by feralucce (feralucce@wayoutonthecorner.com)
on Jun 08, 2006 - 07:04 AM
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http://www.wayoutonthecorner.com/feralucce
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sounds almost as fun as moving across the country in a ford taurus towing a 3500 pound traler and having a large dog, 2 ferrets and a medium sized cat in the car...
but hey..230 dollars is a small price to pay for teh comforts of home
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Re: Pressing Concerns
by daria_4 (-)
on Jun 24, 2006 - 03:31 PM
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I really enjoy your writing style.
Glad to know you're ok, too. :)
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Re: Pressing Concerns
by Rae (nocturnalsonatas@yahoo.com)
on Jun 26, 2006 - 10:53 AM
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http://www.darkness-embraced.com
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Some of those very same suicide cab drivers live in Washington D.C.
But, nice to see you made it through the tragic world of travels in one piece. ;o)
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