Stu's visit to Egypt (year 2)
02/23/2003
Finally, a quiet weekend in Cairo. No plans, no trips, not even any school-work to do. I started my low-key weekend on Thursday night, the preferred weekend starter in Egypt mainly because most people don't work on Friday and Saturday (a standard requirement for weekend days).
Thursday night I held an impromptu TV night. Not because "Nile-TV" was having a "Must See TV Night", but because I returned from my recent trip to NYC with hours of American television classics on DVD as well as hours of recent American not-so-classic television on VHS from my friend Dave. The tapes came with the warning, "It's all reality TV, Stu. You'll hate it."
Dave knows me well. I am the fan of the fictional character. The king of the situational comedy. The enthusiast of the half-hour episode. To a lesser degree I am the defender of drama, but still appreciative of a good story, funny or not. I especially espouse the concept of the "dramedy". That special combination of back-handed humor and poignant human emotion that tugs at my heartstrings. This is why the television show "SportsNight" gets my nod as the "Best Show Ever Produced Anywhere in the World at Anytime. Ever. In History."
I watched the entire premiere season in one sitting. 22 episodes plus the pilot. In one night. Without commercial interruption. The way God intended television to be enjoyed. Unfortunately, others didn't share my interest in Dan and Casey's adventures so I enjoyed them alone. Fine by me, I was enjoying a quiet weekend in Cairo.
Friday morning I had to meet at the SCUBA shop at eight o'clock to participate in a day-long training session for a Rescue Diver course. I like to keep myself prepared in case of a decompression emergency in the classroom. You never know when an eighth grader will suddenly surface from a lecture-induced coma gasping for air. So I spent eight hours in a swimming pool "pretending" to rescue people. It turns out I'm much better at "pretending" to drown.
Seriously, the instructor says I'm a great victim and he wants to use me in his other classes. But he says I need to practice the lifesaving skills more. Never mind the "laughter is the best medicine" approach. I tried that argument and he says that "First Aid" is widely considered the accepted approach with a non-breathing, unconscious diver. Sure, they may breath again, but will they someday be able to look back on their near-death experience and laugh about it?
When I got home that evening I was exhausted, cold, hungry and ready to watch the second and final season of the critically acclaimed hit series "SportsNight". (Critical acclaim is the worst thing for the longevity of a show. What they need is Public acclaim. Lots and lots of people watching and buying the advertised products.) But my roommate, Craig, reminded me that people were gathering at TGIFriday's to celebrate his birthday.
I got ready in twenty minutes and, even though my core body temperature was still a bit low, I went to a little dinner with about twenty people. The only party at the restaurant that was louder and more obnoxious than ours was the table full of students ten feet away. Some of my teacher friends were concerned about this but I insisted that we were capable of being discreet. The wait staff discreetly stood on chairs and sang "Happy Birthday" at the top of their lungs while much of our group loudly chanted, "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" in quiet encouragement to Craig to finish his "bottomless" iced tea.
Even though I had drank four Sakara long necks (the premium 7% alcohol ones) I was the pillar of decorum at our table. In fact, when, in a defiant act of civil disobedience, the rest of my dinner party tied napkins around their arms in solidarity protesting the fact that Friday's was out of Quesadillas that night, I discreetly refused to participate. Secretly, I agreed with their cause though. I mean really. Out of Quesadillas? How does a restaurant run out of something like that. Oh yeah, that's right. I'm in Egypt.
Afterward, some of us went to a friend's house for Survivor. This is the Amazon edition and a battle Royal of the sexes. A colleague hosts Survivor night every Friday at nine o'clock and we gather to cheer on our favorites and, of course, wager. We bet on which tribe will win which challenges and which participant will be voted out of the jungle. Imagine my surprise when I won the coveted gold painted Nefertitti statue which I must proudly display in my classroom until next week's episode. I was the only viewer to correctly predict the women to win the reward challenge, the men to win the immunity challenge and finally, the women to vote off that home-making, lazy-ass Janet. Many chose the Helen Keller character, but I felt they wouldn't vote off the deaf chick first because it would look like they were voting off the deaf chick first. She'll go second or third.
My low-key weekend continued at another colleague's for a house warming party. She's a newer teacher who arrived mid-year and finally got her place fixed up. She held a "What-would-you-be-if-you-weren't-a-teacher" party and asked that people come dressed as their second career choices. Many people went with their fantasies of Astronaut, Fireman, Cowboy, Pornstar, and Professional Wrestler. But a few were realistic about it and came dressed as barely-employed shopping mall retailers living in their parents garage. The "GAP sales associate" was my personal favorite.
I chose Santa Claus. I'd like to think it's because of my humble generosity and jolly nature, but it really had more to do with my utter disdain for these kind of parties and my lack of motivation to come up with something more elaborate. All I needed was a blinking Santa hat, which I conveniently had left over from playing Santa at the staff Christmas party. In fact, to complete the ensemble, a friend made a quick sign to hang around my neck. It read, "Where's the balcony?" An allusion to an unfortunate illness that Santa experienced at that party involving way too much eggnog.
The party finally broke up around two AM when one of the history teachers raised his sword and commanded everyone to "Charge the Bastille!" After a quick stop at a local pub, a few of us decided to enjoy a felucca ride on the River Nile. I can't think of a better way to end a very long, tiring day than to lounge on a boat and shiver in the predawn chill. It did lend itself to some cuddlinopportunities and for once I wasn't the odd man out. On the other hand, it was so cold that the close embrace had less to do with romance than it did with the basic human instinct to survive. When we finally glimpsed the sunrise we knew we would be safe.
I got home in time to get a full morning sleep before meeting friends for a game of ultimate Frisbee in the afternoon. My infrequent physical conditioning allows me to play for several minutes on end without needing substitution but the guys let me play anyway. At least I try hard. I even went to my gym afterwards for a twenty-minute cardiovascular workout and a half hour sauna session. I'm just starting back after a brief fifteen-year break so I'm taking it easy. Eventually I'd like to be able to go to the gym just for the sauna without actually having to workout first.
After a light dinner of soup and salad at The Green Mill I enjoyed a double-decaf-no-fat-mocha-latte and read the local paper. "Read" is probably too strong a word since most of it is in gobbley-gook. But the comics are funny to look at. I did a New York Times crossword puzzle, thoughtfully sent by my grandmother and made my lunch for tomorrow. So ends my quiet weekend in Cairo.
Next weekend I'm going camping and diving on the Sinai. Should be pretty uneventful. Nothing like this weekend. Unless I have to rescue someone. Don't worry. I'll make something up if I have to.