The Wonder of It All - Day 3 - The Return Journey

11/29/15, “The Return Journey” Cairo International Airport, Egypt

After far too short of a time in Egypt, it is time to go home, and I have to say that I am relieved.  I would have enjoyed some time in Cairo, but it will be good to get back home.  I did what I set out to do.  I saw the site of the great Lighthouse of Alexandria, and I saw the Pyramids of Giza.  There is only one verifiable Wonder of the Ancient World left: the Colossus of Rhodes.  I will go to Rhodes in 6 months.  The Hanging Gardens, if they ever even existed, are now theorized to have been in what is now Kurdish Iraq, outside of Mosul, not Ancient Babylon.  Herodotus didn’t even mention them, I don’t think.  I will not be going to Mosul anytime soon, so I assume I will complete my mission in Rhodes.

I will have to be brief, focusing on the triumphant airport entry, and it has been my tradition to treat the return journey in its entirety, so I will focus instead on some reflections, saving the rest for en route.  Egypt is a wondrous place to visit.  Take away the Pyramids and the site of the Lighthouse, and it is not much different from the rest of the Arab World or even the entire broader region of the Middle East and the Mediterranean.  Each country in the region has its own flair, and I’d be hard pressed to describe specifically what makes Egypt unique.

I’d go with the color scheme, perhaps.  White is missing.  Almost everything is shades of tan and brown, no blue or red, either.  Perhaps this is a legacy of the dessert and the sandstone that was used to build the Pyramids.  Egypt forms an important part of my cultural identity.  In fact, every spring, we sing songs about our escape from Egypt, and we drink wine to celebrate how we escaped.  Our ancestors built the Pyramids, allegedly, but we escaped.  I wasn’t even thinking about this until last night and again now, so caught up the grandeur of the construction.  It is no wonder that it is a Wonder.

I really want to go to Damascus, and I get the sense that I would see things there even more wonderful than anything I saw here outside of the Pyramids, but, unfortunately, that is not an option now.  Maybe in 5 or 10 years, but not now.  I want to go to Baghdad when it is safe and live out Aladdin: The Experience.  That is not safe, either.  Egypt is safe, for now.  I am glad to have gone, and I would like to return to see the remaining WHS once I can be sure those parts of the country are safe.  They are not now.  The regions by the borders with Sudan and Libya are not safe.  Sinai is not even close to safe.  It will be day one day.  Every place that is now dangerous will be safe at some point in my lifetime, and some of the safest places in the world will be dangerous.  That’s the way the world works.  Baghdad was a very safe place when my father was my age, but Vietnam was not (if I’m getting my timeline right).  Now, it’s the opposite.

I need to board soon, and I’m starving, so I will briefly wrap up by saying that sometimes the places you think are most safe, such as Paris, can be just as dangerous as the places you think are dangerous, such as Egypt.  Paris is familiar, but Egypt is unknown.  People fear the unknown.  Reader, never let the fear of the unknown stop you from doing something you want to do.  Ever.

Aboard MS 985, En route CAI-JFK

What is left to say?  I suppose I could consider this my first true, unguided experience into the Arab world.  I have spent enough time in the Arab world and the rest of the Muslim world to get a sense of the culture, but this is the first time I have been fully immersed.  When I went to Jordan, I had a taxi pick me up at the border, and I was guided straight from there to the camp, and I was picked up in the morning by another guide, who stayed with me the whole day.  I just went to three WHS and stopped for lunch.  There was no experience of the culture.

Later that year I went to Dubai.  I flew into Dubai, and a taxi took me to Abu Dhabi.  The next morning a driver, not a guide, took me to a few WHS and other sites I wanted to see.  I ended up at my hotel in Muscat, the capital of Oman.  The next morning, I flew from Muscat to Dubai, but I was driven around for most of the day, other than the time I spent in the mall and at the top of Burj Khalifa.  I was so heatstricken that I literally collapsed at the top of Burj Khalifa.  I then went skiing.  I flew home after that.  That trip I was more immersed into the culture, but I was still sheltered.  I saw the big cities, but I couldn’t really get a feel for their style of life.

A couple of months later I went to Iran, which is a Muslim country, even though it is not Arab.  I was required to have a guide with me the whole time, but I got a better feel of the culture that time.  We drove between the big cities, and I got see the small villages in between.  We spent time in plazas and the kind of WHS that were frequented by locals.  We took public transportation and walked the streets.  That was new to me.  It gave me a sense of their culture, but, again, I had a guide, and it was not the Arab world.

January 1^st I found myself in Turkey.  No guide this time, just a rental car.  Turkey is a far more secular country than many others in the Middle East, and the culture is very different accordingly.  Yes, I got a great feel of the Turkish culture and way of life, but that is not Arab, either.  A year ago this weekend, I went to India, which has a significant Muslim population, and the culture and way and life is very similar to the Middle East.  Again, I had a guide the whole time, but I was definitely able to witness what life is like in India, even if I wasn’t full immersed.  Just being there was enough.

Now, this was different.  As I mentioned, it was my first time on my own in the Arab world.  No guides, just a few taxi drivers.  I walked around Alexandria on my own.  I spent almost two hours at a hookah lounge.  Perhaps most telling was the train ride from Alexandria to Cairo.  I walked around the Pyramids on my own, dealt with the hagglers on my own.  The camel ride through the village was also very telling.  This was a true experience with Arab culture, one I had not previously experienced.  What shocked me the most is that hagglers seemed to have learned the same techniques.  I was smart enough not to fall for them, recognizing the tricks they were using, especially after hearing them more than once.

In Zambia, they used the same tricks too, different tricks than in Egypt, but each vendor used the same tricks, and, like an idiot, I kept falling for them.  Here I was wiser.  What bothered me most was when they would try to trick me on the exchange rate.  That was insulting.  We would agree to one price in Pounds, and then they’d ask to be paid in Dollars.  However, the dollar amount they wanted was usually four or five times the proper conversion rate.  When I pointed it out to them, they said I could pay in Pounds, now asking for double the original price.  I stood firm each time, but I screwed myself over by not having the exact change and having to round up sometimes.

Along those lines, that’s another trick they’d pull.  We’d agree to one price, and I’d pull out my banknotes, and there would be a banknote of a larger denomination on top.  “That’s okay, you can just give that to me” or some variation would be their reply.  Of course they’d be okay with the larger banknote, but I intended to pay the agreed upon price.  Another trick was to tell me I was the first sale of the day.  That elicited no sympathy from me.  A price was a price.  I understand the need of people to make a living by whatever means possible, but I cannot tolerate them doing so fraudulently.  It’s just them telling a lie here and there, it’s them running an entire business model through fraud.

The taxi drivers were just as bad as the vendors, though the local taxi drivers were all right.  I didn’t even have to negotiate up front.  A typical taxi ride cost the same as the starting price on the meter of an NYC taxi.  I guess the locals aren’t used to ripping off tourists.  I would have loved to see Cairo, but, I got the sense it’s just not what it used to be.  In fact, they are going to be building a new capital, anyway.  On that note, I will close and treat the Return Journey in its entirety on my way back from the airport.   I’m really looking forward to some Chinese food for dinner tonight.

En route, Mohammed’s Jeep, New York

I’m not sure if that is the proper caption, but it’ll have to do.  Yes, I have an Egyptian driver.  What are the odds?  Anyway, it’s good to be home, and now I can properly treat the Return Journey.  Due to a combination of various factors, it was 6:50 AM by the time I was in my Uber to the airport.  That meant I would have to go straight to the airport.  Google Maps said it would be about an hour to the airport, no time to stop in Cairo.  At some point I lit up a Partagas.  Google Maps severely fucked up.  We got there with it still saying there was 30 minutes left.  I could have stopped at Cairo, easily.  I waited outside to finish my cigar.  That fucked things up further, it being 8:20 AM when I went inside, my flight being at 10:20 AM, and it being questionable if I’d have time for a cigar before I boarded.

There was quite a process going through airport security, check-in, and emigration procedures.  There was no traditional security checkpoint, though, just a general scan of my bags before I entered the airport.  That was weird.  I bought some cigars at duty-free, using up the last of my Egyptian Pounds.  I then headed to the smoking lounge, but time was tight, so I only lit up my smallest cigar, an H. Upmann.  I could have stayed longer, wrote more in my entry, since there was quite a line for the proper security screening before the gate.  We went straight from the security point to the plane.  I was starving, but I was told I’d be fed as soon as we took off.  That was good.

I got all situated on the plane and fell asleep, waking up when food was served.  It was the same dry English-style breakfast I had had just 48 hours prior.  I fell asleep and got a good nap, waking up in time for lunch.  I don’t know if I slept a little more after lunch or not.  Afterwards, I worked on my philosophy assignment, loving how my new computer folds back with the touch screen to make highlighting the key points in the book easier.  After I was done with that, I wrote the rest of my reflections.  I then watched the movie Big Eyes, which was kind of good, but it cut off as we made our descent, and I missed the end, which really bugged me.

We soon landed, and I got caught up on my social media notifications.  It was annoying since, rather than all coming in at once, each app’s notifications loaded at a different time.  I cleared border control with no hassle, and I saw that the taxi line was atrocious.  The express bus would not there for 20 minutes.  I started to open up Uber.  A driver offered me a ride.  His price was a third more than a taxi.  I turned him down.  Another driver, Mohammed, offered me a ride at the same price as a taxi.  I accepted.  I had the feeling he’d let me smoke in the taxi.  I was right.

We were soon underway.  I called my parents to let them know I was okay.  After I hung up with them, Mohammed said that he was from Egypt.  We talked a little, and then I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, along with closing out this trip.  Next stop: well, that’s a little confusing.  China and Korea, if I can get approval to take a few days off unpaid at the end of the year.  If not, I might switch up the trip a little and push it back a few days doing Korea first or just do two weekend trips for each of the holiday weekends at year-end.  Either way, I will not write again until after Christmas, so I’d like to wish all of my readers a Merry Christmas.

The Wonder of It All - Day 2 - The Pyramids

11/28/15, “The Pyramids”

Giza, Egypt

Reader, just take a moment.  Read that caption.  Take a look at that picture.  There is perhaps no more iconic picture that can be taken anywhere in the world.  It is the oldest and the last standing Wonder of the Ancient World.  It is a World Heritage Site.  By my standards, it is the number one site to see in the world.  What can compete?  Nothing.  I have truly found the wonder of it all.

Now, reader, take a second look at this picture, what do you not see?  Throngs of tourists.  The ones you do see, mostly local.  Sure, there are a few Asian and European tourists, but I might be the only American here.  What has happened to the world?  Are people so scared to travel that they are willing to miss out on the wonder of it all?  Reader, I am not advocating going to Damascus for your winter holiday, but there are so many wonderful places in the world that people miss out on out of fear, fear of the unknown more than anything else.  Reader, do you know what the biggest danger is here?  Getting ripped off by vendors.  This is a safe place, for now.  See it while you can.  I have been all over the world, to 58 countries now.  This is the most impressive man-made site I have ever seen, ever.

Okay, so after I closed last night, I went out to the hookah lounge, where I drank coffee and smoked hookah for an hour and a half.  It was pure relaxation.  When I get back home, I had trouble falling asleep, whether it was due to the coffee or the excitement, I know not.  I woke up three short hours later, rushing to get to the train station on time, not evening having time for breakfast.  I could have slept straight through, but, well, I was too hungry, so I needed food and coffee, and, well, they let you smoke in the dining car.  I lit up my Davidoff Escurio, having forgotten to smoke it on the drive to Alexandria.

By the time I was done, we were almost at Cairo, and there were no available seats for me.  I wasn’t complaining.  The fare was dirt cheap.  When I say dirt cheap, I mean it was the equivalent of taking Amtrak from NYC to Boston, and the price of the train was almost exactly what you’d pay on Amtrak for a soda and a bag of chips, literally.  I took a taxi from the station to Giza, smoking a Partagas en route.  We were soon at the hotel, and I checked in, still smoking me cigar.  You can pretty much smoke everywhere here.  Did I mention that?  I got to my room and started to relax.

Then I realized I didn’t have my passport.  I figured I left it at the front desk when I checked in, so I raced back.  She had it.  I went back to my room and took a bit of a nap.  I then headed out.  Reader, I had done my reading.  I knew to expect the hawkish vendors and scams.  I did not realize how aggressive they would be.  I got scammed a little, though they weren’t exactly bad deals.  First, someone told me he was with the office and tried to get me to follow him to take a camel.  I realized he was leading me the wrong direction, so I walked away.

I got my tickets, including an entry to the Great Pyramid, which I guess I won’t use, and I walked through the gate.  There is plenty of security here.  It’s safe.  This would be what they call a “hard target.”  Even the train stations had security.  I was immediately accosted by people offering me camel and horse rides.  I turned them all down.  I wanted to do my thing.  I wanted to get to this spot, light up my cigar, and write my entry.  The only thing I was prepared to stop for was souvenirs.

As I was walking, a man came up to me, trying to sell me postcards.  I turned him down.  He asked where I was from.  I told him.  He offered me a handshake.  It would have been rude to turn him down, and he knew he’d try to use my hand as leverage to buy something.  I was right.  I shook his hand and immediately felt his strong grip, but I was prepared, so I quickly pulled it away.  He then offered me a head covering as a gift.  Nothing is free.  I should have known better.  He offered me another one for my wife, even after I told him I was unmarried, because he loved Americans.  I should have known better.  He then gave me some model pyramids and the postcards, again claiming it was a gift.  I should have known better.  He then asked for money, an order of magnitude more than would be appropriate.  I wound up giving him what I thought the items were worth, well, at a high price.

I then kept walking towards the Sphinx, which entailed walking past the vendors.  I haggled to the best of my ability, but they were aggressive, very aggressive.  I got everything I wanted, except a coffee mug, and I wound up getting cajoled into buying another sphinx replica.  I relaxed on my own rule of seeing the change before I hand over my banknotes, and I almost paid the price for it.  I was more angry at myself than at the vendor, but I threatened to get the police if he didn’t give me the right change immediately.  He did, only after I had to threaten him three times.  I continued to the Temple of the Sphinx, where I found the iconic viewpoint, lit up my H. Upmann, took my ceremonial picture, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can enjoy the 45 minutes I have before they close up.

I have written before how finding the familiar within the unfamiliar is one of the most overarching themes of this Travelogue is the familiar within the unfamiliar.  Enjoying a wonderful view in an exotic country on the last day of my Thanksgiving trip as I listen to my Taylor Swift Christmas Album and enjoy my Christmas pipe, that is just so familiar.  I did it in Tehran two years ago.  I did it in Delhi last year.  Now, I’m doing it in Giza.

Next year in Kathmandu, I think.  Now that is a region I have never visited, what I suppose I would call Central Asia.  Never been to Kazakhstan Azerbaijan or Mongolia or any of those countries, and I think they have a culture entirely distinct from the rest of the world, remnants of the nomadic legacy of Genghis Khan.  I am looking forward to that for next year, unless the security situation improves in Iraq, in which I would consider seeking out the site of the Hanging Gardens.

For now, I am enjoying the last of my time in Egypt, and I say enjoying.  This trip, even if it had two MAJOR fulfillment elements (the Lighthouse and the Pyramids) has been very enjoyable.  I am staring at Pyramids, though I can only make out the outline and only vaguely due to the thick pollution from Cairo.  There is nothing like it in the world.  Nothing.  Now, there is one minor difference between this trip and the past two.  If it was in line with the other two trips, I would be taking a late night flight out of Cairo and spend a full day in Cairo tomorrow.

I will miss that, instead of affording Cairo the proper respect as a world capital, I will merely treat it like Cienfuegos or Zacatacas or any other city WHS.   I will take my picture and write my entry, briefly, if I have time in the morning.  I might even skip it entirely.  This trip was not about modern Egypt.  It was about Ancient Egypt.  Even Parliament I cannot visit, since Egypt technically doesn’t even have a parliament now.  I would have preferred an evening flight to an early morning one, but that is it not the option I was afforded.  Alright, enough rambling.  I’m tired, and I have to leave for the airport in 6 hours.

After I closed, I carefully made my way down to the ground, no easy feat with my bags.  More on that later.  I was accosted again by the same hawkers from earlier.  A young girl tried to sell me bookmarks.  I didn’t need bookmarks.  I don’t use bookmarks.  I use the flap on hardcovers and memorize the page number on paperbacks.  I would wind up giving them away.  I didn’t need more souvenirs to get as gifts.  She would not let up.  In the end, I wound up giving her a small amount in Egyptian Pounds just to get rid of her.

Then came the guy with the camel.  I recognized him from earlier, or he recognized me.  I told him that I would go for a one-hour ride, but first I wanted to go inside the Great Pyramid and then drop everything off at my hotel room.  No, I didn’t have enough time to go inside the Pyramid.  I only wanted to take a quick look.  I still needed to drop off my bags at the hotel.  I could leave them at the stable.  Yeah, not in a million years.  I did not tell him that.  I firmly said I would take a one-hour ride at the price quoted on the sign outside the stables.  He agreed, begrudgingly it seemed.

When I got to the Pyramid, it was not at all what I expected.  I thought I’d go through some passages and look around and then leave.  Well, the thing is, the burial chamber is actually at the top of the Pyramid, not the bottom.  Reader, do you know how tall the Great Pyramid of Giza is?  It’s 455 feet high.  I don’t think the chamber was at the very top, the number I heard was 100 meters (330 feet).  My office is on the 27^th Floor of the building.  That’s 324 feet.  I would never dream of going all the way up those steps and back down.  Never.

The Great Pyramid of Giza has no such modern staircase.  It has a ramp with a bar of wood every foot or so.  It was basically a tunnel, no more than five feet high.  I still had my two heavy bags with me.  It was quite strenuous, but it was worth it to get to the top.  I literally collapsed on the floor of the burial chamber.  It was getting to closing time.  I took a few pictures inside before making my way down, which was much less strenuous but far more treacherous.  Someone helped me with my souvenir bag, which meant I had to tip him.

Reader, if you ever go to Egypt, here is my number one tip: make sure you always have banknotes of all denomination and always try to pay in exact change.  They are not so fond of giving change.  If you need to get change, make sure you see the change before you hand over your larger banknote.  Know the exchange rate and don’t let them trick you.  Anyway, I got outside, and I lit up a Churchill, which I knew I would be smoking continuously from that point all the way through my camel ride.  Did I mention you can smoke everywhere here?

I saw my guide again and reminded him again about our deal.  Again, begrudgingly he accepted it.  I told him I’d be back in about 20 minutes.  I went back to the hotel, uploaded the selfie I had taken at the Sphinx, which I knew would blow up my Facebook page (18 Likes in under six hours, I think a record for me for a selfie), and went up to my room.  I then headed out, and I got on the camel.  I had read the most important thing about the camel rides was to keep track of your own time and tell him to turn around when it is halfway through, then only pay the agreed-upon price.

Again, I will need to waive my custom of avoiding monetary amounts.  The sign clearly stated 50 Egyptian Pounds ($6.50) per half hour, which would be 100 Pounds ($13) for an hour.  He acknowledged that price.  It is a very small amount relatively for the service he is providing.  It’s a great deal.  I only had US $20 banknotes and Egyptian 200-Pound banknotes.  I knew it would be a challenge to get the change on the 200-Pound Banknote.  The light seems to have turned off, so I will need to pause while I fix it.

Hmm, it seems the light out here is either broken or non-existent.  They must have turned off a downstairs light that confused me.  Anyway, we started riding, and I thought he was going to take me through the dessert the whole time.  Instead, he took me through this village.  Holy crap.  I’d seen villages like this.  On the screen.  In Zero Dark Thirty and American Sniper.  I was not unafraid.  My biggest fear was being set up to be mugged.  He kept telling me to secure my cell phone and wallet.  Was that a set up so that an associate would see where I was keeping those items?  My water bottle was the bigger risk of falling out.

After half an hour, when we finally got to the dessert with the view of the Pyramids, such as it was through the smog.  I told him it was time to turn around.  I was tired and hungry and just wanted to get home.  My stomach was hurting from the motion of the camel.  We made our way back, me ditching my cigar on the way back.  When we got back, I dismounted, and I prepared to pay him.  Reader, you will recall that we agreed on 100 Pounds ($13).  I took out a 200-Pound banknote and asked if he had change.  He said that he wanted to get paid in American Dollars.  I was prepared to give him the $20 and walk away, but he must have taken me for a fool or thought that I would get confused on the exchange rate.  He said something like, “Give whatever you want, some people give $40, some people give $60, whatever you like.”  Do these guys all go to scamming school or something?  It was the same line the guy who “gave” me the headdress used on me.  I gave him $20 and told him to be happy because it was more than we had agreed on.

I walked away and then went to the souvenir shops by the hotel, asking around for a coffee mug with a picture of the Pyramids.  He said I’d need to come back later.  I promised I would in 2-3 hours.  It was 6:15 PM when I got to the hotel.  I then went back to my room and messaged two of my friends about the day, one by text, one by Facebook.  I had little faith in the pictures going through by text.  They did not, so I went back to the lobby to send her the pictures by Facebook.  My grand plan had been to take a nap.  It was past 7 PM by the time I got it all sorted out.  I then finally took the nap.  I woke up, starving.  It was almost 9 PM now.  I had only had one proper meal the entire trip, the seafood last night, having a light breakfast this morning and just eating assorted pastries for lunch each day.  This would be my big, Official meal in Egypt, real Egyptian food.  I will pause once more so that I can fill up a pipe.  Once more I find myself at the end of a trip, having brought a half dozen pipes (other than the Christmas Pipes) and not having smoked one.  I will smoke one now.

Okay, so I went across the street to the vendor.  He didn’t have the right one.  He said he would send to the warehouse and have it sent to my room.  It seemed suspicious.  I turned him down and went the restaurant.  I just wanted the most authentic Egyptian meal possible.  I got some rice sausage as an appetizer, which was meant for two, a plate of lamb chops, and Koshari, along with bread and Diet Coke.  He said that was too much food.  He recommended I swap out the Koshari for a smaller rice dish.  Koshari is the national dish of Egypt.  I didn’t care if it came in a huge bowl meant to be shared among the whole table.  There was no way I was leaving without trying it, even if I didn’t finish half of it.  It is an assortment of starches: pasta, rice, beans, lentils, nuts, with like a tomato sauce.

I will not recount all the details of the meal, as I am in a hurry to wrap this up and try to get at least three hours of sleep, two full REM cycles.  I can sleep for the first half of the flight, but I will need as much wits about me as possible to successfully execute my brief stop in Cairo.  The entire meal was delicious, and I ordered dessert, but it was too late, and the kitchen was closed.  I could get a traditional Egyptian tea.  They had cinnamon tea or mint tea.  He said the mint tea was more traditional.  He brought me a pot with a yellow Lipton label hanging out and a few mint leaves in the pot.  Just like the pharaohs used to drink, right?  I heard Mr. Lipton was one of the leading sponsor of the Exodus.

I was so disappointed that I just drank enough to clear the taste in my mouth and I went back to the room, stopping at the front desk to try and arrange a taxi to the airport.  The price he quoted was outrageous, but I was fine if it included my stop in Cairo.  No, that would almost double the price.  They wouldn’t even haggle.  I decided I would just hail a street taxi in the morning.  Or use Uber.  This process took almost twenty minutes, eliminating my ability to take a nap.

Instead, I messaged my friend and posted the picture of the meal, with chopsticks, to Facebook.  By the time I went to the bathroom, it was 11:11 PM, then I finally took my nap, knowing I’d have to wake up before midnight if I wanted to avoid having to change the date on the entry.  I woke up around 11:55 PM.  I headed outside, where I lit up my 2014 Christmas Pipe and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get some sleep.

The Wonder of It All - Day 1 - The Lighthouse

11/27/15, “The Lighthouse”

Alexandria, Egypt

Four down, three to go.  All I have to do is look up, and I can envision the great Pharos, the Lighthouse of Alexandria standing tall right here.  The Citadel in this picture?  It was rebuilt with the stones of the lighthouse after the destruction by earthquakes.  For a millennium, Alexandria served as the world’s center of learning and culture.  It was the capital of Egypt during Hellenic times.  It had the greatest library in the world.  All of that lost, but they rebuilt.  They made this citadel.  They made a new library.  They moved the capital to Cairo.  They rebuilt.  Tomorrow I will visit the Pyramids.  In six months, the Colussus of Rhodes.  Iraq is too dangerous to visit, but there is no proof the Hanging Gardens ever existed, so it might only actually be Six Wonders of the Ancient World.  I am nearing completion of that goal.

Hundreds of local and tourists are watching the sun set behind me.  I only have eyes for what is front of me.  I can see the lighthouse in front of me with my waking eyes.  If I close my eyes I can see the bright lights and a ship coming in.  It doesn’t take much imagination.  It feels real.  Okay, so how did I get to this spot?  Wasn’t I supposed to go to the pyramids first?  I knew it would be a game decision.  Much like the finale of Felicity, I expected I wouldn’t decide until I was in the car and uttered a name.

The flight was almost empty, maybe 30% capacity.  I had a full row to myself.  When we got on the plane, during dinner time, I watched Lucy, which was seriously meh.  I then slept until breakfast time, watching Happy Christmas.  It starred Anna Kendrick, whom I am now absolutely convinced is a perfect ten, ironically displacing her Twilight co-star Kristen Stewart from the list.  The more I thought about it, the stupider it seemed to go to the Pyramids today.  If I went straight to Alexandria, I could get to the Citadel with time to write and entry and have a cigar before dark.  I could get my souvenirs, have time to relax, dinner and a movie, get a decent sleep, and be in Giza before noon tomorrow.

Also, I had the suitcase.  What was I going to do with the suitcase at the Pyramids?  That was the deal breaker.  Tomorrow I can just drop off the suitcase at the hotel in Giza and walk to the Pyramids.  It makes more sense.  I took some money out at the ATM and had to buy a tourist visa.  Border control was brief, though my Iranian visa did raise an eyebrow.  As soon as I cleared Customs, someone asked me if I needed a ride.  I asked how much to go to the Pyramids.  He told me.  Hmm.  How much to go to Alexandria?  He became my new best friend and told me to come with him.  I am wise enough to know that there was no way I was giving him my suitcase until he named a price.

It was 11:57 AM.  Then I heard it.  The call to prayer.  I proceeded to the Duty Free shop, but they told me I had to wait 15 minutes because of it.  I picked up 35 cigars, smaller ones, since they didn’t have bigger ones that I wanted.  I then asked again the driver how much he wanted to charge.  He named a price that was too high.  I named the price I expected to pay.  He named a price in the middle.  I agreed.  We got in the car, and we were on our way.

View of the Pyramids from the road

Reader, when I travel to unseemly parts of the world, my greatest fear is being kidnapped.  I do not fear being shot or being caught in an explosion, but being kidnapped remains a legitimate fear.  It would be so easy for a taxi driver to call an associate, speaking in a foreign language, and drive me to an out of the way location.  I kept my Google Maps open to make sure we were staying on the right road, but he was using his phone a lot, not talking on it, just using it.  He was a very reckless driver, and I was also worried on that account.

To be honest, getting injured in a car accident is probably an even more likely concern.  I lit up a Partagas as we drove.  I sent my mother an email, a just in case email, letting her know what was happening and that my phone had GPS tracking in case anything happened.  I even thought about where I’d hide my phone.  After the cigar, I took a nap, and I checked that we were still on the right road.  The one saving grace that came to mind was that he wouldn’t have haggled over price if he intended to kidnap me.  We had to stop at two police checkpoints, and he got a speeding ticket for a large amount by his standards, low by American standards.

We were soon in Alexandria, and he had no idea where the hotel was, and he wasn’t even listening to me when I gave him GPS directions.  We found it eventually, and I knew he was going to try to screw me on the price.  He named a price higher than what we agreed, and he started screaming at me.  I wound up giving him halfway between the original price and the new price he had named, just due to the combination of banknotes I had, but it wasn’t enough for him.  I told him goodbye and walked into the hotel.  He drove off.

View of the Citadel from my room

I checked in, and my room was top-notch.  I could see the Citadel from my bed.  It was perfect.  I changed into my shorts, the same outfit I have worn for each of the Wonders of the Ancient World I have visited so far, and headed down.  I checked out some souvenir shops, knowing how unlikely it would be to find a replica of the lighthouse.  They had magnets, so that was close.  I took a taxi to the citadel, and they had dozens of souvenir shops.  If any place would have my replica, it would be here.  No such luck.  I got a keychain, some magnets, and a plate, but no replica.

Here stood the Lighthouse of Alexandria.  Four down, three to go.

Sunset was coming up, so I needed to do my thing.  I took my ceremonial pictures, lit up my H. Upmann, took my sip of water, and announced what needed to be announced: “Four down, three to go.”  I posted all over social media and then sat down.  Some guy asked me if I wanted tea.  I didn’t.  He then told me I had to pay to sit.  It was such a small amount he asked that I just gave it to him to walk away.  I then proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as I am starving and want to get some dinner.

Again, it’s all so familiar.  Swap out the Arabic writing with Hebrew, and I’d believe you if you told me I was back in Akko.  Swap it with Farsi, and I think I was back in Tehran.  Swap it with Greek, and I’d think I was in Athens.  With the exception of Tehran, which is not on the Mediterranean, it’s all the same.  The food is the same, the cars, the the aggressive driving, and the heat.  Arabic, Israeli, and Hellenic cultures, all the same, subject to minor disagreements on who was and was not a prophet or a son of god.  The city is even called Alexandria, named after Alexander the Great.  Cairo, that’s as Greek of a name as you can imagine.  It’s literally two letters (chi and rho) of the Greek alphabet strung together.  It means Christ.

I am staring off at the remains of the Lighthouse, the Wonder of the Ancient World, no different than I did the Temple of Artemis (a Greek Goddess) in Ephesus.  What is most familiar to me, is the evening nap I have been taking either before or after dinner in almost every country I have visited in the Middle East.  The heat takes a lot out of me.  It makes me tired and hungry.  I experience whenever I go to a hot climate, nowhere more so than the Middle East, even though the temperature here is quite mild in November, just as it was mild in Akko in January 2013.

That did not stop me from skipping my movie and passing out as soon as I got back to the hotel after dinner.  So, about that dinner.  Well, it is my custom to avoid using monetary amounts in this entry, but to point the extent to which my driver back from the Citadel tried to rip me off I will have to waive that custom.  Oh, first, I stopped to get some pastries from a vendor as I walking away from the Citadel, and I handed him a small banknote that I thought should cover the three pastries.  I literally overestimated by an order of magnitude.  He gave me 90% of my money back in change.

Okay, so then I found a horse and carriage that would take me back to my hotel.  The exchange rate is about 8 Egyptian Pounds to 1 American Dollar.  They said it would be 70 Pounds ($9) to go back to my hotel, fine.  It was a horse and carriage, definitely contributed to the experience.  I lit up my Davidoff, and we were on our way.  He kept trying to scam  me, in what way I wasn’t sure, getting me to stop and take a picture at some Mosque or go to the new library or stop at the bazaar.  I had to tell him a half dozen times just to take me back to the hotel.  It got to the point where I was starting to get angry at him.

When we got back to the hotel, I took out a banknote for 200 Pounds, asking if he had change.  He asked me if I had dollars, saying that the fare was $50.  Wait, WHAT?!?  I gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe he did the conversion wrong and reminded him that they said 70 Pounds.  No, that was not enough, he said.  In Pounds, it would be 200 Pounds.  Wasn’t this the same scam the driver tried to pull on me earlier?  My astute reader will also note that $50 is actually about 400 Pounds.  Was he bad at math or just so desperate to make his scam?  I handed a 200-Pound banknote in my end and would not give it to him until he produced 100 Pounds in change.  Eventually, he did, and angrily accepted almost 50% more than the price he originally quoted.

I checked at the front desk to see if they had an adapter for my electronics.  Again, they produced a non-American adapter.  This time, she sent me out in search.  There were lots of cell phones shops down the street, but almost no one spoke English.  Eventually, I found the adapter and got two of them.  I relaxed with the rest of my cigar and tried to plan my evening.  The oldest restaurant in Alexandria (not even a hundred years old I noted) was a short walk away, and I could then take a taxi to the movie and see a 9:30 PM showing of “The Secret in Their Eyes.”  The receptionist had never heard of the restaurant.  How good could a restaurant be if a receptionist at a hotel a few blocks away never heard of it?

She instead recommended the Fish Market, calling it the best restaurant in Egypt for fish.  I took a taxi, not negotiating a fare beforehand.  He asked for a much more reasonable fare of, I suppose I’ll continue to waive avoiding monetary amounts, 20 Pounds ($2.50) for a distance about halfway to the Citadel.  The restaurant had a big station of seafood on ice, and you pick your own and tell them how you want it and what sides.  This is what my mother would call a dream restaurant.

The fish was fresh and local and delicious.  I got some fried calamari, fried shrimp, and a fried seabass, along with bread, brown rice, and a Diet Pepsi.  I was able to smoke inside the restaurant, so I lit up an Aroma de Cuba.  It was a delectable feast, but it knocked me out.  I got a Turkish coffee to go with the rest of my cigar, but that only put me further to sleep.  I knew there was no way I wanted to sit through a movie that would get me home after midnight, just so that I could say I saw a movie in Egypt, especially one that only has a 40% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

I took a taxi back to the hotel and realized that I could go out later to a hookah lounge, which would be an even more interesting experience.  I pretty much passed out as soon as I got back to the hotel.  I woke up at 11 PM local time, starving.  I scarfed down a candy bar and some chips, but I don’t think it was enough.  Hopefully the hookah lounge will have food.  I rubbed out some tobacco and filled up my 2013 Christmas Pipe.  I then headed to the ledge by the window with the view of the Citadel, where I lit up my pipe and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can finish my pipe and publish the entry before I head out.  I feel like I’m ready to take on the world.  Or, maybe I’ll catch the 12:30 AM showing of the movie, doubt it, though.

The Wonder of It All - Day 0 - Thanksgiving

“The Wonder of It All”

11/26/15, “Thanksgiving”

John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York (JFK)

It’s all so familiar, being at this airport on Thanksgiving, getting ready to fly to some exotic location.  Two years ago it was Iran, last year India, and this year I had hoped to go to Iraq, to keep in line with the alliteration.  That was not an option due to the security situation.  I chose something a little safer: Egypt.  Even Egypt is not the safest place in the world right now, but I am going to the “safe” part of Egypt, the sweet spot in the Nile Valley that has avoided the Sinai insurgency and is far enough from the borders with Sudan and Libya to avoid those conflicts.  I am going to see the Pyramids and ancient Alexandria.

I am not scared about getting attacked.  I have made my peace.  Guatemala and Honduras were far more dangerous.  Worse still, nowhere is safe.  As we learned two weeks ago, a European capital can just as easily be attacked as one in the Middle East.  When I set out to see the world, I did not set out to see the “safe” parts of the world.  I set out to see the world.  I am worried about the usual things, though.  I will be in Egypt for less than 48 hours, but I only want to see two things: the Pyramids and the remains of the Lighthouse of Alexandria (now a Citadel), two of the Wonders of the Ancient World, hence the title I have assigned to this trip.

Just as when I went to Iran two years ago, my worries are that I won’t be able to see both sites in my short time, that I’ll run out of battery on my cell phone when I’m trying to take a picture, that kind of stuff.  I have put my affairs in order, just in case, such as they are, but that is just good sense to have done, regardless of where I am travelling.  In twelve hours, I will be landing in Egypt, and, though I haven’t really finalized my schedule yet.  I might just go straight to Alexandria.  Alright, enough about this.

It’s Thanksgiving.  What I am thankful for this year?  One thing, above all else: my friendships.  I will not enumerate the friends who mean the most in the world to me.  You know who you are.  I am never hesitant to tell my friends how much they mean to me.  The wonderful thing about friendships is they are completely voluntary.  Once you leave elementary school, no one forces you to be friends with anyone.  Seven billion people on this planet, and you meet tens of thousands of them throughout your life, and most of them you never see again.  The ones you remain friends with, you do so by choice.

The friends who mean the most to me I have met through such a variety of ways, whether I met them in elementary school, collecting autographs, at work, or at the cigar shop.  Even in such groups I have met hundreds of people, maybe thousands, but I have only chosen to remain friends with maybe two from each group.  I am thankful for each and every one of those friendships: the one person who can always brighten my day with a single text, the one I think of every time I see a picture of a puppy, the one who I’m willing to go to Brooklyn once a month to see, the guys I hang out with the most, the one who can engage me literally for hours in endless debate on almost any topic, and, of course, the one who has been at my side for 21 years, whose side I was glad to be at when he get married last night.  I will not name names, the people I just mentioned will know who they are if they are reading this.

That is what I am thankful for this year.  It has been a rough year for me, and having such friends has made it one of the best years of my life.  Never have I needed the Christmas spirit, and, when I get back to New York, the Christmas spirit will be in full swing.  Okay, so what happened with Day 0? We got home from the wedding late last night, and I woke up as the Parade was starting.  I needed this.  I had a bagel and some coffee for breakfast, but we were eating dinner in a few hours.  I just cared about the parade.  I knew who was coming: Santa.  At noon, his float would appear, and I’d know the Christmas season had begun.  I needed it.  I lit up my 2012 Christmas Pipe and watched as Mariah Carey sang “All I Need for Christmas Is You.”  Then I saw him: Santa.  I started crying, so happy that Christmas was coming.  Is Santa real?  He is if you believe.  I then went outside to finish my pipe and get ready.

We had to be at my parents’ friends’ house by 12:45 PM.  We had an enjoyable time, and the food was good, but I didn’t have much of an appetite.  In fact, my appetite has been sporadic all week, not quite sure the explanation.  I ordered an Uber to take me to the airport and said my goodbyes, telling my mother where I had left instructions in case the one in a million came true and something happened over there.  The car came, and I asked the driver if I could smoke.  To my surprise, he said that I could if I opened the window.  I lit up a Punch cigar, finishing it outside the airport when we arrived.  I breezed through security and headed to my gate, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish before we board.

MOVC - Day 2 - Homeward Bound

11/8/15, “Homeward Bound”

Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, Georgia (ATL)

My time in Atlanta has come to an end, and the philosophy I have heard at this conference has left me enriched.  The single most beneficial thing I learned, without a doubt, was Yaron Brook’s idea about the difference between lying and playing the game.  It is okay to lie when someone does not expect an honest answer.  You are not profiting from that lie.  Instead, you are merely playing along with the game.  The rest just reinforced ideas I already strongly held, only act in your long-term self-interest, only engage in relationships that are win-win for both parties, etc.

One other idea from this morning really stuck with me, but I will address that in its due course.  I woke up this morning and got ready, deciding I couldn’t leave without going to the Waffle House for breakfast.  I did just that, even at the price of missing the first lecture.  I was starving, and I went to town.  I got coffee, of course, along with a pecan waffle, bacon, country ham, eggs, toast, and hashbrowns “scattered, smothered, and covered.”  It was a proper Georgian breakfast.  I got a cup of coffee to go and headed to the second lecture, about regulations and antitrust law.

He went through the usual arguments against antitrust law, how true monopolies are not possible, etc.  I’ve heard all that before.  He was preaching to the converted.  A few points he raised were that law are supposed to protect us from those who would do us harm, not punish us for doing good or take away from us.  Laws should make our lives easier, not harder.  The government should not be in the business of regulation free trade.

I always think about the example of someone inventing the cure for cancer (or the common cold).  Reader, imagine for a moment a privately funded scientist, working in his own lab, discovers a vaccine for cancer.  One injection, and you are immune to cancer for the rest of your life.  How much would this be worth?  I make it a point not to mention dollar amounts in this Travelogue, but think of the price you would be willing to pay for this vaccine, for yourself, for your children.  Now, multiply that by 300 million people in the country, not even counting the rest of the world.  That would make him the richest person in the world.  Reader, what chance do you think the government would let that happen?  Surely the price he would charge for the vaccine is worth not getting cancer, and he would not force anyone to buy it.  No, the government would regulate his sale of it.

The reason for this, as posited by Rand, is “hatred of the good for being good.”  People resent the successful and want to shackle them merely for being successful.  That is the true reason behind people like Bernie Sanders who decry “income inequality.”  They don’t seek to make the rise the poor to the upper levels.  They seek to bring down the rich to lower levels.  The next speaker was about the mindset of the trader.  He spoke about practical principles to use in life, but he also reiterated the Objectivist point that all human relationships are trade, whether they are business, platonic, or romantic, they are all about trade.  Unless the trade is win-win, it will soon fail.

Reader, what am I saying here?  People too often ask, “What is he bringing to the friendship?” while failing to ask, “What am I bringing to the friendship?”  Or relationship.  I was planning on having a cigar and maybe taking a picture at Ford Theatre, but first I had to pack.  I did that and checked out before going outside to have a cigar.  It was cold and rainy.  I lit up my Jericho Hill, but I could only smoke half of it before I was too uncomfortable and went inside.

I went up to lunch, where they had pizza and brownies, both of which sucked.  I then found myself sucked into a debate about Schrödinger’s Cat and the Law of Non-Contradiction.  No, the cat is not both alive and dead.  It’s either alive or dead.  We just don’t know which.  You can apply that to quantum physics, and, if a particle can really be in two states or locations at once, then we need to rewrite our laws of physics, not our laws of logic.

Next was the talk by someone who worked with Mark Zuckerberg at Facebook.  He managed the Messenger App.  I found my friend from last night, and I sat down next to her.  We chatted a little before the lecture.  The speaker was talking about a problem with the messenger app, that it was taking a second or two for the messages to load instead of a tenth of a second, like the competitors.  The engineer started explaining the why of all this.  Zuckerberg didn’t care.  He simply asked if the engineer could fix it, or, if it, Zuckerberg would find someone else who could.  It was fixed in a matter of weeks.

The next speaker ran a series of schools.  He gave an example about how he went to buy a new school building, and there was a railing on the second floor.  He determined that the railing met code, and it would be approved for use.  He was about to leave when he realized he was asking the wrong question.  Did he feel it was safe for students?  That was what mattered.  He then said that that was the problem with codes and regulations.  It causes us to be so accustomed to thinking how we could comply with the law, rather than considering what is actually safe and proper.

Next were the breakout sessions, and I sat in on the one about writing for their newsletter.  I signed up to be considered to be a writer.  Then came the last session, a general Q&A about Objectivism.  No one really asked any good questions, except for a perennial favorite about why Rand was considered a misogynist.  Well, her view that the proper role for a woman in a romantic relationship is to worship at the altar of her man would be a good start to answering that question.

I was considering catching a movie at a nearby theater before going to the airport, but I was just too tired.  I thought I could make it, but I wasn’t sure.  I grabbed my bags, said goodbye to my new friend, and walked to the train station, in the rain.  The northbound train would take me to the movie theater, southbound to the airport.  I flipped for it, heads movie, tails airport.  It was tails.  In the end, I could have easily made the movie, but that would have also meant I wouldn’t have had time at the smoking lounge.  As it is, I have almost two hours before my flight, and I’m going to try for an earlier flight.

I got to the airport, went through security, got dinner at Popeye’s, just like I did on Friday (well, that was lunch, even if it was almost exactly the same time), and headed to the smoking lounge, where I lit up my Ardor and proceeded to write this entry.  I now have some time to reflect on Atlanta.  What to say about Atlanta.

Reader, if you have never been to Atlanta, you won’t understand what I’m saying.  This airport, the busiest in the country, is the crossroads of the southeast, Delta’s main hub.  It is a very poor city with some very rich corporations.  It would be a great point for a socialist to make any point he wants about income inequality.  Reader, how many jobs do Coca-Cola and CNN and GP and AT&T provide to the city of Atlanta, both directly and indirectly?  Reader, what do you think would happen if those companies moved to Houston?  How would it devastate the already fragile economy of Atlanta?

No, reader, what Atlanta needs is more companies, more billionaires coming to this city to make even more money.  Reader, do you think the worker at the Waffle House is resentful of Ted Turner for making his billions?  Or does he appreciate the fact that without the employees at CNN coming to the Waffle House for breakfast he might not have a job?  Obviously this is an exaggeration, but it perfectly illustrates the morality of value creation.  On that note, I close.  Next stop: Egypt to see the pyramids, though, well, I’m slightly trepidatious after the news of this weekend.

MOVC - Day 1 - "Georgia on My Mind"

11/7/15, “Georgia on My Mind”

Atlanta, Georgia

Atlanta means a lot of things to a lot of different people, but to me, more than anything else, it means the Host of the Games of the XVI Olympiad in 1996.  That was when I started to become as obsessed with the Olympics as I am now.  If the Olympics are a religion to me, then I am now sitting in its cathedral.  It has been an interesting day so far, and I got in more touristy stuff than I had planned, but not as much as I had hoped.

After I woke up, I head down to breakfast, a southern buffet that left much to be desired, bacon wasn’t crispy enough, no biscuits and gravy, but the grits and eggs were good enough.  I was left fed.  I then headed down for the first talk.  It was about the spirit of Atlas Shrugged in Silicon Valley.  One quote really stuck with me: “Create more value than you capture.”  Think about Google.  They have created an immensely valuable product that they give away to everyone in the world.  It is impossible to measure the value that Google has provided to the world, but they only capture a tiny percentage of that value, and they are still one of the most successful companies in the world.  That is the spirit of Silicon Valley, and I find it very much accordance with the themes of Atlas Shrugged.

Dagny Taggart wanted to create the best railroad she could.  Her goal was not to capture every last dollar she could from selling rail services.  Howard Roark wanted to create the best buildings he could, not make as much money selling architectural services as possible.  Imagine if Hank Rearden was only driven by the desire to profit.  No, he was driven by the desire to achieve greatness.  That is why he is entitled to every penny that comes from the sale of Rearden metal, a metal that makes the world an immensely better place.  The luminaries in Silicon Valley are no different.

Other points that were raised during the morning talks were mainstays of Objectivism.  Only engage in win-win relationships, as all win-lose relationships eventually become lose-lose.  Self-interest means long-term self-interest, not short-term.  There was one other point about Silicon Valley: it is better to fail at trying something new than to succeed at copying someone else.  That is the mindset of Silicon Valley, and I believe my readers will agree it is found in Atlas Shrugged.

After the talks, I went out for a cigar, a Davidoff Special R, and I headed to Georgia Tech, which was a block or so away.  I wanted to go to the football stadium, of course.  I walked by the frat houses, and I soon found the stadium.  Well, as I got there, some rambling wrecks were walking out.  I guess they well were each a heck of an engineer.  I took my ceremonial picture at the stadium and headed back to the hotel, stopping at the bookstore along the way and picking up some heartburn medicine.

I then went to lunch, traditional southern fare of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, iced tea, and bread with butter.  After lunch, I went back up to the room, intending to have a five-minute rest.  That became a two-hour nap, which cost me the time I wanted to spend at the CNN Tower.  I got ready and headed to the MARTA station, taking it to Five Points, where I found the famous Atlanta Underground.

I walked around for about a minute before making my way to the State Capitol.  Interestingly Atlanta did not become the capital of Georgia until 1868, after the Civil War.  Savanna was the capital during the Revolutionary War, until it fell to the British.  I lit up a Churchill and took a few more pictures.

I then continued to the famous, historic courthouse, which now houses the 11^th Circuit Court of Appeals.  After I took my ceremonial pictures there, I continued walking towards my ultimate destination.  The thing about Atlanta is that it has decent neighborhoods and bad neighborhoods, and it is hard to tell which is which.  I saw people handing off stolen or fake goods, and many people asked me for spare change, not homeless people.

When I saw the Rings at the entrance to the Centennial Olympic Park.  I knew I was home.  I had not been here in three years, but I remembered it.  Then I saw the flags.  They went clockwise.  The five-ring flag, then the US flag, then Spain, then South Korea, etc.  I knew what they represented.  “1996 Atlanta, 1992 Barcelona, 1988 Seoul,…”  I could not contain the tears as I effortlessly rattled off each Summer Games, fully crying from joy by the time I got to “1904 St. Louis, 1900 Paris, 1896 Athens.”  I was home.  I took a few ceremonial pictures, ditched the cigar, and took a few more pictures.  I then sat down on the raised seating, where I lit up my Ardor and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can head back to the hotel for the cocktail party.

Well, it certainly has been a very interesting and adventurous seven hours since I closed at Centennial Olympic Park.  I should have been back at the hotel by 6:30 PM.  If I walked I could have gotten there around 6:40 PM.  I decided to take MARTA.  Well, MARTA sucks.  It’s great for getting to and from the airport, but, for shorter distances, it’s only marginally better than walking, if at all.  It should have been 10 minutes for the next train.  The countdown marker said 17 minutes.  I think it ws 25 minutes in the end.  Reader (well, New York readers), imagine having to wait 25 minutes for a subway train on a Saturday at 6 PM.  It’s probably more like 5 minutes.  When I finally got to my destination, at 6:50 PM, I got off on the wrong end and started walking the opposite direction of the hotel.

I sorted it all out, but it was after 7 PM when I got to the hotel, when I thought the cocktail reception to be over.  I then learned two things.  The reception ran until 7:30 PM, but it was only for speakers, not for the whole conference.  I should have just stayed downtown and got dinner there.  Instead, I went up to the room and looked up the best choices for southern food by the hotel, while I charged up my phone.  I found one, and it was pretty famous, Mary Mac’s Tea Room.  It was a 20-minute walk from the hotel, but I just had no energy, so I took a cab.

When I got there, I was pleasantly surprised.  Needless to say, I ate too much.  That’s the thing about soul food.  The portions are big, and the food is filling.  This was my big night out, so I was determined to do it right.  I ordered a mint julep to drink, and they brought out the bread: regular bread, corn muffins, and a cinnamon roll.  Then came the pot likker.  After that, my main course, and I was full before they brought it out, fried chicken with fried okra and mac and cheese.  I also got a glass of buttermilk to go with it.  For dessert, I had Georgia peach cobbler with cinnamon ice cream and coffee.  Reader, could you imagine a more traditional Georgian meal?  I certainly can’t.

I was too pooped to pop at this point, but I still had the party to go to.  I really just wanted to skip it.  I wanted to go back to the hotel, have a cigar, relax, and then watch Donald Trump on SNL at 11:30 PM.  It was a little after 9 PM at this point.  I figured I’d get to the party at 9:30 PM, have my two drinks, and then leave at 11 PM.  If I could find a chance to have a cigar at some point, great.  Well, that was exactly what I did.  I got to the party, and everyone else had already arrived.  I went to check in, but they said they didn’t have any drink tickets.  Um, how did they run out of drink tickets?

My ticket price explicitly said it came with two drinks.  I didn’t even want the drinks.  It was just the principle of the thing.  They said I could just leave my credit card at the bar, order my drink(s), get the tickets later, and the bar would void the charge for the drinks.  Fine, whatever.  I saw they had Knob Creek bourbon.  No, that wasn’t included.  Evan Williams was.  Fine, whatever.  I asked for a double for my two drinks.  I then went outside where I found a group of smokers, including two people smoking cigars.  Perfect, that would be my spot.  The thing about me and parties is, I hate being there if I don’t know anyone, but, if I have a group I can latch onto, I’m fine.  I call it my “anchor.”  If I have an anchor, I don’t feel uncomfortable.  One of the cigar smokers instantly recognized my cigar as a Liga Privada No. 9.  I didn’t even know that was what I was smoking.  We started talking as I drank (sipped) without enjoying my bourbon.

Then a girl came to join us.  She was exactly my type: smart, beautiful, tall, philosophical.  We connected and started talking.  Talking to her I felt something I felt for, I believe, only the second time since June.  No, I’m not talking about a physical feeling.  I’m talking about forming an emotional bond with someone, the feeling of being in a conversation with someone and never wanting it to end, not because you are enjoying the conversation you are having with her, but because you are enjoying so much conversing with her.  How could a pretty face ever supplant that?  One small problem: she lives in Santa Fe, so it is doubtful I will ever see her again after tomorrow.  We both wanted to leave the party early so that we could get back to the hotel for SNL, and we decided to share a cab back to the hotel.

Alright, I am very tired, so I’m half tempted to write, “Yada, yada, yada, and I proceeded to write this entry,” but that would be too much editing.  I need to properly close out this entry.  I went back to finish my cigar, but I knew that I still needed to resolve the issue with the credit card and the drink tickets, but the organizer from the event was nowhere to be found.  The bartender told me they didn’t buy enough drink tickets, so I was SOL.  Not bloody likely.  I told them that I paid for the ticket, so I’m not going to pay again for the drinks.  I flat-out told them I wouldn’t sign the slip, and they said they had to run the card anyway.  I said I’d dispute the charge on my credit card.  The bartender told me that I would need to take it up with the event organizer.  Again, the money was nominal.  It was the principle of the thing, and my new friend was waiting for me.  I told them to just give my card back, and I’d sort it out later.

I finished my drink, and we headed up to the street.  She was struggling to walk in her high heels and shivering in her short sleeves.  Reader, I think you know me well enough to know that I am always a perfect gentlemen.  Well, at least with girls outside my family and the office.  If I had a jacket, I would have offered it to her.  I did not.  I was just wearing my shirt and suit pants.  We got to the street, and I tried to recall the proper protocol.  I knew I was supposed to open the door for her, but it seemed like she would not want to slide to the opposite side.  Oh, right, I was supposed to open the door on the curbside, let her into that seat, and then I would walk around and enter the car from the opposite side.  That was the proper protocol, and she appreciated the gesture.

We talked about the conference on our way back to the hotel, arriving with 7 minutes to spare.  We talked about the idea of “stop sign morality” raised this morning, that morality is too often about what we shouldn’t do, rather than what we should do.  We also talked about what I raised in my entry last night, how Kant’s view of morality stands in direct contrast to the Objectivist view of the morality of value creation.  SNL did not disappoint, and Donald was willing to make fun of himself in good taste.  There were also some non-political sketches that were hilarious.  After SNL, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get to sleep.  I guess I will not be making it to the Waffle House tonight, instead saving it for breakfast.