Original Ideas

So, I know what you’re thinking: Didn’t Catherine take a bunch of travel pictures with a little toy cow named Cheesecake, like, a year ago?

Yes she did. And yes I have been taking travel pictures with a little toy Leia named Leia. I wouldn’t say that all of my best ideas come from my friend Catherine, but sure, some of them do. Why can’t I just take an original idea from one of my friends and claim it as my own? That’s pretty original, right?

In the spirit of giving credit where it is due: Catherine, toy cow, me, steal.

Cute.

My next original idea is to create an entire movie around my toy Leia. I’m thinking about calling it Star Fight. It will take place somewhere a long time from now, or maybe a long time ago. I haven’t worked out all of the details.

I do not believe that transitions are for the weak.

Yeah, sure, I used to play with the Etch A Sketch when I was a kid. I remember some people were really good at it. There were kids who could make a house with windows and smoke coming out of the chimney. Some people could do portraits. My personal achievements included rectangles and stairs.

As of this writing, it hasn’t rained in Africa yet, so my blessings are on standby.

Juli and I had a nice talk over breakfast. We are both writing about our travels, and we wanted to have a quick check in to make sure that we weren’t both writing about exactly the same thing in exactly the same way. I told her about my Etch A Sketch thing. If she was also planning on writing about the Etch A Sketch, she sure played it cool.

Sometimes tensions flare up when you travel in a group. I find it’s usually best to stay out of it. Things have a way of working themselves out among friends once everyone has had a little time, and maybe some sleep and a nice meal. Pro tip: you can cause a lot of damage by giving the appearance of taking sides. Every once in a while I am the reason that tensions flare up. I’m just a dude with my own flaws and I’m grateful that I have patient friends who respect me enough to give me some time to have a nap and a snack.

(I usually don’t edit my blogs, but I added “Pro tip” to that otherwise fine sentence. I think it adds a little something.)

Juli and I do a pretty good job traveling together. Tensions flare up a little from time to time, but we manage it well with the same kind of friendly patience. The biggest difference is that I can never hide when I am on my side. Usually when Juli and I have a tiff, it’s because I am incredibly right about something and homegirl has lost her damn mind. Our greatest and longest debates have been over The Shining. She thinks the book is somehow better than Kubrick’s masterpiece. What was I saying? Oh yeah. Objective. Stay objective.

The movie is better.

This is a popular story about me with the gang back home. I have never attempted writing it down before, so I hope I capture what’s fun about it. I remember it happening, but I have heard the story several times from other people since then. This telling will be a combination of those things.

I was in Krakow with a gang of artists and actors. We were in a part of the city far from where our beds were, traveling from one part of town to another, and we stopped off at a convenience-store type market for some provisions – water, cigarettes, snackiepoos – you know the drill. Several of us lined up in front of the counter like ducks. I was at the back of the line.

The first guy, we’ll call him Mr. A, spoke to the Polish woman behind the counter. In English, he said something to the effect of, “Where are the burritos? Do you have any burritos? Burritos. I can make my own burrito if you can show me where the tortillas are. Where are the tortillas? Tor-ti-llas.” The Polish woman was unable to direct him to the burritos.

Our next ambassador, we’ll call her Ms. B, took her turn. “Can I please have a pack of cigarettes? No, the blue one. No, the blue one. No, that’s yellow. The blue one.” Her voice became increasing louder as she pointed ever more feverishly. “No, the blue one.” I believe Ms. B finally got her cigarettes.

The rest of the gang said please in Polish and excuse me in Polish and water in Polish and did their best mime to acquire their necessities. At last it was my turn. We’ll call me Aaron Hendren.

“Yo, baby. What’s up?” I said. I might have had a friendly tone.

When you hear my friends tell this story, the legend goes that the Polish woman giggled and blushed, and got sparkles on her eyes for me. I guess I charmed her. Maybe I just added a little levity to a stressful situation. I don’t really know. I know that I can still hear Ms. B’s voice, “No, the blue one. No, the blue one.” Hey, Ms. B, maybe English isn’t her first language.

Just a thought.

This morning my server told me that they were out of bread and asked if it would it be okay to substitute cake. I told her that would be fine. I wish this was an option more often.

I hope you are learning a lot about Africa from my blogs. Please like the Egg Murders page on Facebook. If you haven’t done it yet, you really are the reason your parents got divorced.