Our next stop on our Europe trip was Germany, after leaving Israel and all that intrigue. Germany was a very welcome change. We landed in Frankfurt and saw a large cow sculpture in the airport terminal. Talula felt right at home, as she came from a dairy region of South Carolina. We changed planes and flew to Berlin.
When we got to the airport, I felt an overwhelming feeling that I was back home, even though I had never been there before. My ancestors were German, and we came from the southern part of the country near the Rhine. We had to get into an elevator to get to our bus. I was singing the German national anthem in the elevator, and a lot of Germans looked at me funny. I didn't care.
West Berlin was very clean. Our hotel was near the city center. Talula wanted to get a German hymnal for her pastor back home, so she, Sandra and I set out that afternoon to find a church. We found one not far from our hotel. It was really big. The outside of the church featured ruins from the war, and the inside was very modern. Our first stop was the gift shop in the church, but they didn't have any hymnals. We then found a priest and asked him if we could buy a hymnal. He got very upset and told us that this was a church, not a store. So, the three of us sat in a pew and just took in the church aura. When we left and were outside, Sandra pulled a hymnal from her purse, and gave it to Talula. We thought we were all going to Hell for stealing a hymnal from that church. I hope the statute of limitations has run out, since the theft was over 40 years ago. If not, don't tell them. We also went to a department store to buy a washcloth for one of the girls. I didn't know much German, but we got by in asking the clerk for help. I was also appointed to figure out what the exchange rates were between American and German money. Our hotel had taken our passports and kept them at the front desk. No one had done that so far on our trip, and we didn't know why, but you deal with it.
The next day, we toured East Berlin. Our bus went through Checkpoint Charlie, and they ran mirrors under our bus looking for people, I guess. Men with machine guns boarded our bus. We were told not to take pictures of the Berlin Wall from the East. Of course, you tell me not to do something, and I will do it anyway, so I got some nice shots of the wall. I was also told in Israel not to take pictures of Army installations around the country. I got some nice shots of those, too. We were also told by our tour guide not to talk to any East Germans. Mr. Vivian wanted some authentic German cheesecake, so we found a small restaurant. The girl behind the counter came over to our table to ask us about blue jeans and American life. Out of nowhere, a man in a trench coat showed up and said something to the girl. She quickly went back to work. Our tour guide told us he was the police. It just so happened that the restaurant was right across the street from the Soviet embassy, so he could have been Stasi or KGB. As our bus rolled around East Berlin, there were two very obvious sites. One was that many of the buildings had not been rebuilt since World War II, and they were just bombed out shells. The second was that Lenin's picture was everywhere. There were paintings, statues, frescos, and much more. The hammer and sickle were prominent. We got to the Soviet War Memorial, where many of the dead were buried. Everything was massive. They did point out where some of the Nazi buildings had been. Since I am a student of World War II, that interested me.
As we were leaving East Berlin, the soldiers with machine guns and big mirrors did their thing once again. On the West side of the wall, there was an observation deck, where we could look across to the East. There was also a billboard next to the wall. It read: "Durst macht Spass mit Fanta". I didn't know that my last name was German for thirst. I had to take a picture of that.
Our afternoon was free. The girls wanted to sleep, so I had the opportunity to go out on my own. The Berlin Zoo was close to our hotel, so I went there. The animals were interesting, but the best thing (and the spookiest) was a group of teenaged boys walking through the zoo. They were all over six feet with blonde hair. I immediately knew who their parents were. A year later, I described that sight to my Sociology professor in college. He didn't believe me, but it was true.
I really liked Berlin. Our next couple of days would be filled with touring the German countryside around the Rhine. The trip would take another turn. More later.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Strangers In The Night
As I have written before, our goal on our trip to Europe was to sample the local charm of the areas that we visited. So often, the tour guides show you what they want you to see. We wanted to see the things they might not want you to see. I say all of this, because the story that I am going to tell you is true. It may seem farfetched, or a plot from a movie, but it really happened. I was sworn to secrecy, and didn't really tell anyone until about 20 years after it happened. The person I told was in special forces in Vietnam, and he said the story didn't surprise him. So, here goes.
We got to Jerusalem and stayed in a hotel in the Arab Quarter near Herod's Gate. It had a lot of character. That first night, we asked the desk clerk where we could go to check out our surroundings, and they suggested we go down the street one block to a souvenir shop called the Jordan Bazaar. Sandra, Talula, Judy, and I went to the shop. There were three Arab guys who ran the shop. Their names were Sam, Omar, and Sam. Sam and Omar were brothers, and the other Sam was their cousin. They were in their mid-20's. We asked them if they could take us on a walking tour of Jerusalem by night, and they said they would, when they closed up the shop for the night.
At around 10pm, we got together with the 3 guys and set out on our tour. Each guy walked with each girl, and I walked behind them. Sandra was directly in front of me. At some point in our "tour", Sandra put her hand behind the guy and waved at me. I thought it was a signal to "get lost", so I started to lag behind. I continued to get further away from them, until I no longer saw them. I was officially lost. I walked through neighborhoods of squalor. No street lights. No signs. I came upon a group of Orthodox Jewish men. I asked for directions, but they wouldn't talk to me. I finally found a taxi and asked him to take me to my hotel. I gave him a dollar, and it turned out I was just around the corner from the hotel. When I got back, it was nearly midnight. Mr. Vivian was furious. He said that the girls had gotten back earlier, and they didn't know where I was. I apologized and went to bed.
The next morning, Mr. Vivian had a meeting with me and the girls. He had decided that we would stay together for the rest of the trip, and I would be their protector. There was no debate in this decision. I was to go everywhere the 4 girls went. I didn't like the idea, and I don't think they did either, but it was a done deal. So, if they wanted to go dress shopping, I went too. It was also the majority ruled. If three wanted to go somewhere, then everyone would go there. We were all friends, but now we were all joined at the hip.
Our tour of Jerusalem was uneventful. That night, we were having supper in the hotel, and an American man came to our table. He introduced himself as an employee of the US consulate, and said he was a political attaché. (For those of you not familiar with that term, that is code for CIA). He said that he had become aware that we had made friends with the guys from the Jordan Bazaar. We were surprised that he knew that piece of information. He told us that we could no longer associate with them. When we asked why, he said that Henry Kissinger was in town to try and broker a peace deal, and that these 3 boys were part of a group that wanted to see the deal fail. He was afraid that Americans being friends with these "terrorists", as he called them, would be harmful to the process. I told him that it might seem strange to them that we suddenly stopped seeing them, so the man said that we could find out all we could about them and their friends, and then the man would come back each night to our supper and find out what we knew. That sounded dangerous, so I asked the man what if we refused. He said that the US Government would revoke our passports and send us home. They were serious. We talked it over and decided to do it, since how would we explain to our parents why they lost all that money they paid for us to be in Europe, etc.
The next day, we continued on our tour of Jerusalem. A little boy followed us around, trying to sell us rolls of mints. He would say, "One for a quarter or two for 25 cents". He was cute, but we kept brushing him off. He stayed with us, and he started to become a nuisance. We found out later that the 3 Arabs used the boy to keep tabs on us. That afternoon, we hung out with the 3 boys, and found out what we could without sounding too curious. When we got back to the hotel, we had a short time before supper. I called Sandra's room and asked her what she knew, so that we could compare stories and make sure we had everything right before the American guy showed up. While I was on the phone with her, we heard some background noise over the phone and a click. We found out that the folks at the hotel's desk were listening into our conversation. Our "cover" was blown. The hotel called the Jordan Bazaar and told them what we were up to. A message was sent back to us that we could continue our tour, but if they saw us away from our tour, they would do harm to us. It became serious. We didn't tell Mr. Vivian, because we were already in trouble with him. That night, after dinner, there were hecklers outside our hotel windows, until some police showed up and moved them away.
The following morning was Saturday. We had our regular tour of Jerusalem. After lunch, the girls wanted to go to a hair salon, which was about a block behind our hotel. So, we made an excuse that we were tired, so the rest of the tour group went onto other sites. The girls and I went through a service entrance in the back of the hotel to get to the salon, because the front of the hotel was being watched. We got to the salon, which was run by a very nice Arab woman. Word got back to the boys where we were, and they showed up at the salon, pounding on the shop's glass. Fearing that the glass would break, the woman called the police and got them to move the boys back. We explained to the woman what was going on, and she said that she would protect us. When the girls finished at the salon, I went out of the shop first; looked to see if it was clear; and then motioned them to run across the street back to the hotel. This was very stressful for me, and I found that I needed something for my stomach. There was a drug store across the street from the front of the hotel. I ran across the street and into the store. There was an elderly Arab man running the store. I told him what I needed and why. He told me to watch out for those 3 boys, because they were "crazy". He also said he would protect us.
On Sunday, the tour group went to the local Baptist church for the morning service. It was a few blocks from our hotel, and we walked. It was a little dicey, but we made it okay. Sandra bought a solid wooden camel as a souvenir. It was my duty to carry it, because it was heavy. That afternoon was spent writing postcards and relaxing. That evening, the American man came back to our supper, and we told him about the threats, and that was the first time that Mr. Vivian knew what we were going through. Some words were exchanged between him and the government official, and it was decided that we would leave very early Monday morning to go to the airport in Tel Aviv.
At around 2am, there was a knock on our doors. The man said get packed. We were leaving. All 16 of us crammed into two cabs, and a trailer housed our luggage. Soldiers with machine guns guarded us, as we loaded up our stuff and got us out of Jerusalem in the dark. We got to Tel Aviv without incident. We went through the toughest security checks we had ever seen. They x-rayed the wooden camel, and sawed it in half. Sandra was very mad. She threw it away. There was an Arab man in front of me in the security line who had an urn stuffed with socks. He was on his way to France to sell tractors. He was not allowed on his plane, much to his anger. At 7am, wheels were up on our plane, and we flew to our next scheduled destination of Frankfurt, West Germany. We were very relieved when we were out of Israeli airspace.
About six months later, I was at Presbyterian College and was listening to a BBC World Service radio program called "Victor Sylvester's Dance Party". He took requests of songs for people all over the world. I sent in a request of "Strangers in the Night" by Frank Sinatra as a dedication to the three Arabs in Jerusalem. A month later, he played it, and said, "From Walter in the US to Sam, Omar and Sam in Jerusalem--'Strangers in the Night'". It was my way of getting back at them one last time.
Some three years later, Congress was having a hearing about the CIA using civilians for spying. The CIA said they never had used civilians, and they never would. I just had to laugh, because I knew differently. For a few days in July, 1973 in Jerusalem, five American young people on a tour worked for the CIA. And, just as a side note, Israel and Syria fought against each other in October, 1973 called the Yom Kippur War. I don't know whatever happened to the 3 Arab guys, but I suspect they had a hand in the war.
We got to Jerusalem and stayed in a hotel in the Arab Quarter near Herod's Gate. It had a lot of character. That first night, we asked the desk clerk where we could go to check out our surroundings, and they suggested we go down the street one block to a souvenir shop called the Jordan Bazaar. Sandra, Talula, Judy, and I went to the shop. There were three Arab guys who ran the shop. Their names were Sam, Omar, and Sam. Sam and Omar were brothers, and the other Sam was their cousin. They were in their mid-20's. We asked them if they could take us on a walking tour of Jerusalem by night, and they said they would, when they closed up the shop for the night.
At around 10pm, we got together with the 3 guys and set out on our tour. Each guy walked with each girl, and I walked behind them. Sandra was directly in front of me. At some point in our "tour", Sandra put her hand behind the guy and waved at me. I thought it was a signal to "get lost", so I started to lag behind. I continued to get further away from them, until I no longer saw them. I was officially lost. I walked through neighborhoods of squalor. No street lights. No signs. I came upon a group of Orthodox Jewish men. I asked for directions, but they wouldn't talk to me. I finally found a taxi and asked him to take me to my hotel. I gave him a dollar, and it turned out I was just around the corner from the hotel. When I got back, it was nearly midnight. Mr. Vivian was furious. He said that the girls had gotten back earlier, and they didn't know where I was. I apologized and went to bed.
The next morning, Mr. Vivian had a meeting with me and the girls. He had decided that we would stay together for the rest of the trip, and I would be their protector. There was no debate in this decision. I was to go everywhere the 4 girls went. I didn't like the idea, and I don't think they did either, but it was a done deal. So, if they wanted to go dress shopping, I went too. It was also the majority ruled. If three wanted to go somewhere, then everyone would go there. We were all friends, but now we were all joined at the hip.
Our tour of Jerusalem was uneventful. That night, we were having supper in the hotel, and an American man came to our table. He introduced himself as an employee of the US consulate, and said he was a political attaché. (For those of you not familiar with that term, that is code for CIA). He said that he had become aware that we had made friends with the guys from the Jordan Bazaar. We were surprised that he knew that piece of information. He told us that we could no longer associate with them. When we asked why, he said that Henry Kissinger was in town to try and broker a peace deal, and that these 3 boys were part of a group that wanted to see the deal fail. He was afraid that Americans being friends with these "terrorists", as he called them, would be harmful to the process. I told him that it might seem strange to them that we suddenly stopped seeing them, so the man said that we could find out all we could about them and their friends, and then the man would come back each night to our supper and find out what we knew. That sounded dangerous, so I asked the man what if we refused. He said that the US Government would revoke our passports and send us home. They were serious. We talked it over and decided to do it, since how would we explain to our parents why they lost all that money they paid for us to be in Europe, etc.
The next day, we continued on our tour of Jerusalem. A little boy followed us around, trying to sell us rolls of mints. He would say, "One for a quarter or two for 25 cents". He was cute, but we kept brushing him off. He stayed with us, and he started to become a nuisance. We found out later that the 3 Arabs used the boy to keep tabs on us. That afternoon, we hung out with the 3 boys, and found out what we could without sounding too curious. When we got back to the hotel, we had a short time before supper. I called Sandra's room and asked her what she knew, so that we could compare stories and make sure we had everything right before the American guy showed up. While I was on the phone with her, we heard some background noise over the phone and a click. We found out that the folks at the hotel's desk were listening into our conversation. Our "cover" was blown. The hotel called the Jordan Bazaar and told them what we were up to. A message was sent back to us that we could continue our tour, but if they saw us away from our tour, they would do harm to us. It became serious. We didn't tell Mr. Vivian, because we were already in trouble with him. That night, after dinner, there were hecklers outside our hotel windows, until some police showed up and moved them away.
The following morning was Saturday. We had our regular tour of Jerusalem. After lunch, the girls wanted to go to a hair salon, which was about a block behind our hotel. So, we made an excuse that we were tired, so the rest of the tour group went onto other sites. The girls and I went through a service entrance in the back of the hotel to get to the salon, because the front of the hotel was being watched. We got to the salon, which was run by a very nice Arab woman. Word got back to the boys where we were, and they showed up at the salon, pounding on the shop's glass. Fearing that the glass would break, the woman called the police and got them to move the boys back. We explained to the woman what was going on, and she said that she would protect us. When the girls finished at the salon, I went out of the shop first; looked to see if it was clear; and then motioned them to run across the street back to the hotel. This was very stressful for me, and I found that I needed something for my stomach. There was a drug store across the street from the front of the hotel. I ran across the street and into the store. There was an elderly Arab man running the store. I told him what I needed and why. He told me to watch out for those 3 boys, because they were "crazy". He also said he would protect us.
On Sunday, the tour group went to the local Baptist church for the morning service. It was a few blocks from our hotel, and we walked. It was a little dicey, but we made it okay. Sandra bought a solid wooden camel as a souvenir. It was my duty to carry it, because it was heavy. That afternoon was spent writing postcards and relaxing. That evening, the American man came back to our supper, and we told him about the threats, and that was the first time that Mr. Vivian knew what we were going through. Some words were exchanged between him and the government official, and it was decided that we would leave very early Monday morning to go to the airport in Tel Aviv.
At around 2am, there was a knock on our doors. The man said get packed. We were leaving. All 16 of us crammed into two cabs, and a trailer housed our luggage. Soldiers with machine guns guarded us, as we loaded up our stuff and got us out of Jerusalem in the dark. We got to Tel Aviv without incident. We went through the toughest security checks we had ever seen. They x-rayed the wooden camel, and sawed it in half. Sandra was very mad. She threw it away. There was an Arab man in front of me in the security line who had an urn stuffed with socks. He was on his way to France to sell tractors. He was not allowed on his plane, much to his anger. At 7am, wheels were up on our plane, and we flew to our next scheduled destination of Frankfurt, West Germany. We were very relieved when we were out of Israeli airspace.
About six months later, I was at Presbyterian College and was listening to a BBC World Service radio program called "Victor Sylvester's Dance Party". He took requests of songs for people all over the world. I sent in a request of "Strangers in the Night" by Frank Sinatra as a dedication to the three Arabs in Jerusalem. A month later, he played it, and said, "From Walter in the US to Sam, Omar and Sam in Jerusalem--'Strangers in the Night'". It was my way of getting back at them one last time.
Some three years later, Congress was having a hearing about the CIA using civilians for spying. The CIA said they never had used civilians, and they never would. I just had to laugh, because I knew differently. For a few days in July, 1973 in Jerusalem, five American young people on a tour worked for the CIA. And, just as a side note, Israel and Syria fought against each other in October, 1973 called the Yom Kippur War. I don't know whatever happened to the 3 Arab guys, but I suspect they had a hand in the war.
Saturday, October 24, 2015
Tel Aviva
We flew from Rome to Tel Aviv, or as Talula called it "Tel Aviva". We stayed at a modern hotel on the Mediterranean Sea. It was after dark when we got to the hotel. I went down to the beach and put my toes in the water. I went back inside and found a TV in the lobby. It was showing live Watergate hearings from the States. It was great to see a bit of home. Someone had given Mr. Vivian a large basket of fruit, which was put in our room. Grapefruit, Oranges, Bananas, Dates, and more. It was more fruit than our group could eat.
The next morning, we left Tel Aviv to tour the northern part of Israel. We went to Haifa, Joppa, Nazareth, and other places. We had lunch at a restaurant overlooking the Sea of Galilee. They told us that we were going to have "St. Peter's Fish". We found out what that was. Some boys would catch the fish; throw it in a pot of boiling water; and then the restaurant would serve it. No scaling. No deboning. No cutting off the head. It was like being in dissecting class in school. They gave you a knife and a fork and said "eat". Imagine seeing the eyes staring at you, while you ate the fish. It was gross. And to top it off, you could see the boys catching the fish with a gasoline slick on the top of the water from their boat. I was so turned off by this sight that I didn't eat fish for about 30 years after that experience. Now, I eat fish a lot. Go figure.
After lunch, we got to Nazareth. We saw the places we were supposed to see, and then got back on the bus. We still had our large basket of fruit. There were begging children at every turn, and we had been told not to give them any money, but the tour group decided that we would give the fruit to the kids. We stopped the bus near a group of playing children, and asked them if they wanted the basket of fruit. A riot started, and all we saw was a lot of chaos and dust. When it was all over, most of the kids had gotten some fruit, although one boy just got the grapefruit's peel and was showing it proudly. The grapefruit had exploded in the melee. The incident touched my heart as some people have a lot, while others have very little. But, those who have very little can get excited about something seemingly so small.
We toured some more and got to our place for the night, which was a kibbutz. They sold Brandy Candy there, which was a hard candy with brandy in the center. I bought a box, and went through the whole thing. I got a buzz from it, and it seemed easier to get past Mr. Vivian than the wine in Rome. The girls and I looked for Brandy Candy along our trip. Sorry, Mr. Vivian.
The next morning, we left Tel Aviv to tour the northern part of Israel. We went to Haifa, Joppa, Nazareth, and other places. We had lunch at a restaurant overlooking the Sea of Galilee. They told us that we were going to have "St. Peter's Fish". We found out what that was. Some boys would catch the fish; throw it in a pot of boiling water; and then the restaurant would serve it. No scaling. No deboning. No cutting off the head. It was like being in dissecting class in school. They gave you a knife and a fork and said "eat". Imagine seeing the eyes staring at you, while you ate the fish. It was gross. And to top it off, you could see the boys catching the fish with a gasoline slick on the top of the water from their boat. I was so turned off by this sight that I didn't eat fish for about 30 years after that experience. Now, I eat fish a lot. Go figure.
After lunch, we got to Nazareth. We saw the places we were supposed to see, and then got back on the bus. We still had our large basket of fruit. There were begging children at every turn, and we had been told not to give them any money, but the tour group decided that we would give the fruit to the kids. We stopped the bus near a group of playing children, and asked them if they wanted the basket of fruit. A riot started, and all we saw was a lot of chaos and dust. When it was all over, most of the kids had gotten some fruit, although one boy just got the grapefruit's peel and was showing it proudly. The grapefruit had exploded in the melee. The incident touched my heart as some people have a lot, while others have very little. But, those who have very little can get excited about something seemingly so small.
We toured some more and got to our place for the night, which was a kibbutz. They sold Brandy Candy there, which was a hard candy with brandy in the center. I bought a box, and went through the whole thing. I got a buzz from it, and it seemed easier to get past Mr. Vivian than the wine in Rome. The girls and I looked for Brandy Candy along our trip. Sorry, Mr. Vivian.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Rome
By the time we started our tour of Rome, the jet lag was virtually gone. We could actually appreciate what we saw. There was a sign in the Sistine Chapel not to take pictures, as the flash would damage the paintings. Of course, someone did, and they almost arrested us. Some words were exchanged, and they allowed us to stay. We saw the Vatican, the Forum, Paul's jail cell, Peter's bones, and a lot of fountains. For lunch, Sandra, Talula and I wanted to eat in an authentic Italian restaurant, so we went there, and the rest of our tour group ate somewhere else. I had never had wine before that day, but we all drank some with our meal. After lunch, we all ate a bunch of breath mints and stayed away from Mr. Vivian, as he would not have approved of us drinking alcohol. Some of the older ladies on the tour could smell the wine, but they didn't tell on us. We all appreciated that.
The rest of our tour of Rome was uneventful, although Mr. Vivian wondered why we stayed away from him. That night was another story.
One thing that I had learned about Sandra was that she never talked about death. If I would bring up that subject, she would always change the subject. I was in bed asleep, when the phone rang in my room. Mr. Vivian was also asleep. I answered the phone, and it was Sandra. She sounded very scared, and told me that she was afraid she was going to die, and I had to get to her room right then. I knew there was a problem, so I lied to Mr. Vivian about why I had to leave for a while. I put on some clothes and headed over to her room. When I knocked on the door, there was a scared voice on the other side asking who it was. When I identified myself, the door opened. Sandra and Talula were shaking.
Sandra explained why they were so afraid. She had just taken a shower and found she needed more towels. There was a few buttons in the room to call hotel staff. One was for a maid; another for the front desk; and another for a bellboy. They thought they pressed the button for the maid, but instead it was for the bellboy. A knock came to the door, and they opened it. Sandra was naked, and the bellboy's eyes just about popped out of his head. Talula slammed the door. They were afraid he was going to come back. After I calmed them down, we decided to play a trick on the bellboy. So, we put together a plan. I was to hide in the bathroom and zip down my pants. They were to call down to the front desk and apologize for their rude behavior to the bellboy, and then invite him back up to their room for some fun. When he would knock on the door, they would open it. When the door opened, I was to flush the toilet and come out while zipping up my fly. We would then tell him that we were going to have a foursome. He would get embarrassed and leave. It seemed like a good plan. It was implemented. I was in the bathroom. He knocked on the door. They told him to come in, and I came out. The bellboy's face turned red, and he ran away. We had a good laugh. I told them not to open the door for anyone until the next morning. I went back to my room. Mr. Vivian asked what the problem was, and I just told him there was no problem. I went back to sleep.
The next morning, we were to leave around 10am to go to the airport for a flight to Tel Aviv. We were to gather in the lobby at 9:30 to start to load up. We all at wake-up calls for 7:30. Mr. Vivian and I got ready and packed and headed down to the lobby. One by one, the other tour members were there too. But no Sandra or Talula. I called up to their room, and Sandra very sleepy answered the phone. I asked her why they weren't downstairs. She asked me what time it was, and I told her 9:45. She said something, and then the phone went dead. To get them back for how they treated the bellboy the night before, the front desk failed to give a wake up call to their room. They threw on some clothes and got down by 10. When they got downstairs, they looked over at the front desk, and the staff just smiled at them. We were glad to get out of there. We never told Mr. Vivian what had happened as to why they overslept. It was just better that way.
The rest of our tour of Rome was uneventful, although Mr. Vivian wondered why we stayed away from him. That night was another story.
One thing that I had learned about Sandra was that she never talked about death. If I would bring up that subject, she would always change the subject. I was in bed asleep, when the phone rang in my room. Mr. Vivian was also asleep. I answered the phone, and it was Sandra. She sounded very scared, and told me that she was afraid she was going to die, and I had to get to her room right then. I knew there was a problem, so I lied to Mr. Vivian about why I had to leave for a while. I put on some clothes and headed over to her room. When I knocked on the door, there was a scared voice on the other side asking who it was. When I identified myself, the door opened. Sandra and Talula were shaking.
Sandra explained why they were so afraid. She had just taken a shower and found she needed more towels. There was a few buttons in the room to call hotel staff. One was for a maid; another for the front desk; and another for a bellboy. They thought they pressed the button for the maid, but instead it was for the bellboy. A knock came to the door, and they opened it. Sandra was naked, and the bellboy's eyes just about popped out of his head. Talula slammed the door. They were afraid he was going to come back. After I calmed them down, we decided to play a trick on the bellboy. So, we put together a plan. I was to hide in the bathroom and zip down my pants. They were to call down to the front desk and apologize for their rude behavior to the bellboy, and then invite him back up to their room for some fun. When he would knock on the door, they would open it. When the door opened, I was to flush the toilet and come out while zipping up my fly. We would then tell him that we were going to have a foursome. He would get embarrassed and leave. It seemed like a good plan. It was implemented. I was in the bathroom. He knocked on the door. They told him to come in, and I came out. The bellboy's face turned red, and he ran away. We had a good laugh. I told them not to open the door for anyone until the next morning. I went back to my room. Mr. Vivian asked what the problem was, and I just told him there was no problem. I went back to sleep.
The next morning, we were to leave around 10am to go to the airport for a flight to Tel Aviv. We were to gather in the lobby at 9:30 to start to load up. We all at wake-up calls for 7:30. Mr. Vivian and I got ready and packed and headed down to the lobby. One by one, the other tour members were there too. But no Sandra or Talula. I called up to their room, and Sandra very sleepy answered the phone. I asked her why they weren't downstairs. She asked me what time it was, and I told her 9:45. She said something, and then the phone went dead. To get them back for how they treated the bellboy the night before, the front desk failed to give a wake up call to their room. They threw on some clothes and got down by 10. When they got downstairs, they looked over at the front desk, and the staff just smiled at them. We were glad to get out of there. We never told Mr. Vivian what had happened as to why they overslept. It was just better that way.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
BEA
We left London to fly to Rome on our next stop on our European tour in July, 1973. So little time in London. The flight was to leave just before noon from Heathrow, so I wasn't able to eat anything before we left. The plane was from BEA, and it was like a train with wings. Some of the seats faced one another. I was unfortunately facing the back of the plane. We took off, and the flight crew passed out ham sandwiches, which didn't look very appetizing.
Suddenly, the plane hit an air pocket and dropped something like 8,000 feet in two seconds. I began to hyperventilate. My heart was racing. I couldn't breathe. The others around me called a flight attendant. They gave me a barf bag and told me to breathe into the bag. That didn't help. A steward brought a blood pressure device. There were two doctors on board. They gave me some pills. I don't know what they were, but nothing was happening for the better. They laid me down on a row of seats and continued working on me. The decision was made for the plane to continue to Rome. The diagnosis was that I was having a heart attack. The doctors and attendants continued to work on me for what seemed like an hour. I still had no color in my face, and I was feeling very faint. The doctors wanted to keep me awake for fear I would go into shock. I was also very cold. They had blankets around me to try and keep me warm. Nothing was working. Then, out of the blue, a little English elderly lady about two rows back told the flight attendant to "give him hot tea". The doctors didn't think that would help, but they had exhausted everything else. The attendant brought the tea, and I began to sip it. Slowly, my blood pressure came back. My color came back. I started to feel better. Thank God for that little, old lady.
We landed in Rome. I felt fine. Everyone was asking how I was. I felt fine. Especially since all those pills they had thrown into me started to take effect. I started floating down the sidewalk. I felt more than fine.
Suddenly, the plane hit an air pocket and dropped something like 8,000 feet in two seconds. I began to hyperventilate. My heart was racing. I couldn't breathe. The others around me called a flight attendant. They gave me a barf bag and told me to breathe into the bag. That didn't help. A steward brought a blood pressure device. There were two doctors on board. They gave me some pills. I don't know what they were, but nothing was happening for the better. They laid me down on a row of seats and continued working on me. The decision was made for the plane to continue to Rome. The diagnosis was that I was having a heart attack. The doctors and attendants continued to work on me for what seemed like an hour. I still had no color in my face, and I was feeling very faint. The doctors wanted to keep me awake for fear I would go into shock. I was also very cold. They had blankets around me to try and keep me warm. Nothing was working. Then, out of the blue, a little English elderly lady about two rows back told the flight attendant to "give him hot tea". The doctors didn't think that would help, but they had exhausted everything else. The attendant brought the tea, and I began to sip it. Slowly, my blood pressure came back. My color came back. I started to feel better. Thank God for that little, old lady.
We landed in Rome. I felt fine. Everyone was asking how I was. I felt fine. Especially since all those pills they had thrown into me started to take effect. I started floating down the sidewalk. I felt more than fine.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
London
For the next several stories, I will relate some things that happened to us in Europe. The trip lasted 3 weeks, and covered 9 countries more or less. It was a life-changing experience in so many ways. These stories do not mean to criticize any country or its people. However, they are true, as I remember them.
First a little background. The trip was put together by Anderson College and was hosted by Mr. Vivian. There were four college kids on the trip, and we all got History credit for the trip, provided we wrote a paper upon returning on what we had learned. There was one high school student on the trip. The rest were mostly current or retired school teachers. Besides Mr. Vivian, I was the only male on the trip. There were 16 of us all together.
We left Greenville on Thursday July 5th and landed in Charlotte. Then, it was onto NYC. We left New York and flew via PanAm to London. The meal on the plane was duck. The movie was "The Thief Who Came to Dinner". I suppose it was a good movie, starring Ryan O'Neal, but it was around midnight, when it was shown, and I didn't get a lot out of it. We landed in London around 7am their time. I was exhausted from the flight and jet lag. My stomach was acting up, so I looked for a sandwich shop in downtown London to get a grilled cheese sandwich to calm my stomach. I found a restaurant and asked them for a grilled cheese. They told me that they didn't know how to do that. I explained how to make it, but they didn't understand. They made me a quiche instead. Not quite the same, but it was pretty good. I left the restaurant and was roaming around the area. An American came up to me and asked me where the US Embassy was. Of course, I didn't know. But, using my great British accent, I pointed him in a direction. He asked me if I was an American, and I told him that I had been living over there, but I was from Kent in southern England. He bought the story, and he went the way I had pointed. I found out the next day that I had sent him in the opposite direction. Oh well. Sorry, buddy.
The next day, we toured London. We saw Westminster Abbey, Parliament, the Tower of London, the Olde Curiosity Shoppe, and lots more. I asked the tour guide if he could point out two special spots--Savile Row, where The Beatles had their offices, and the Ministry of Defence, where James Bond worked in the movies and books. I got to see those two places. We took a lot of pictures, which was good, since the jet lag was still on us. Mrs. Sitton dropped her camera and broke it. She had to buy slides and postcards after that. During the trip, she had to buy another suitcase to hold all of the pictures. After we got back from the tour, we had a little free time. I walked over to Hyde Park and hung out with the locals. I got back to the hotel, and Mrs. Sitton asked me if I wanted to go to the British Museum. We took the tube to the museum and got there 30 minutes before closing time. We didn't get to see much, but I did get to see the Rosetta Stone. That night, we went to see the play "The Mousetrap". It was good, but our bodies said sleep. I found out later that one of the actors in the play later went on to play "M" in the James Bond movies.
One thing about the food. Yuck. I just assume never to eat bean soup with pepper again and not get water until after the meal. My mouth was on fire. One other thing about London. The English were very nice, but our hotel was filled with Pakistani workers. Not to put them down, but I don't understand their language. But to be fair, they probably didn't understand us much either.
First a little background. The trip was put together by Anderson College and was hosted by Mr. Vivian. There were four college kids on the trip, and we all got History credit for the trip, provided we wrote a paper upon returning on what we had learned. There was one high school student on the trip. The rest were mostly current or retired school teachers. Besides Mr. Vivian, I was the only male on the trip. There were 16 of us all together.
We left Greenville on Thursday July 5th and landed in Charlotte. Then, it was onto NYC. We left New York and flew via PanAm to London. The meal on the plane was duck. The movie was "The Thief Who Came to Dinner". I suppose it was a good movie, starring Ryan O'Neal, but it was around midnight, when it was shown, and I didn't get a lot out of it. We landed in London around 7am their time. I was exhausted from the flight and jet lag. My stomach was acting up, so I looked for a sandwich shop in downtown London to get a grilled cheese sandwich to calm my stomach. I found a restaurant and asked them for a grilled cheese. They told me that they didn't know how to do that. I explained how to make it, but they didn't understand. They made me a quiche instead. Not quite the same, but it was pretty good. I left the restaurant and was roaming around the area. An American came up to me and asked me where the US Embassy was. Of course, I didn't know. But, using my great British accent, I pointed him in a direction. He asked me if I was an American, and I told him that I had been living over there, but I was from Kent in southern England. He bought the story, and he went the way I had pointed. I found out the next day that I had sent him in the opposite direction. Oh well. Sorry, buddy.
The next day, we toured London. We saw Westminster Abbey, Parliament, the Tower of London, the Olde Curiosity Shoppe, and lots more. I asked the tour guide if he could point out two special spots--Savile Row, where The Beatles had their offices, and the Ministry of Defence, where James Bond worked in the movies and books. I got to see those two places. We took a lot of pictures, which was good, since the jet lag was still on us. Mrs. Sitton dropped her camera and broke it. She had to buy slides and postcards after that. During the trip, she had to buy another suitcase to hold all of the pictures. After we got back from the tour, we had a little free time. I walked over to Hyde Park and hung out with the locals. I got back to the hotel, and Mrs. Sitton asked me if I wanted to go to the British Museum. We took the tube to the museum and got there 30 minutes before closing time. We didn't get to see much, but I did get to see the Rosetta Stone. That night, we went to see the play "The Mousetrap". It was good, but our bodies said sleep. I found out later that one of the actors in the play later went on to play "M" in the James Bond movies.
One thing about the food. Yuck. I just assume never to eat bean soup with pepper again and not get water until after the meal. My mouth was on fire. One other thing about London. The English were very nice, but our hotel was filled with Pakistani workers. Not to put them down, but I don't understand their language. But to be fair, they probably didn't understand us much either.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Belk Summer
The summer of 1973 was going to be huge in my life. I was going to Europe with my friends for three weeks in July. I needed spending money, so I got a part-time job at Belk Department Store in Columbia as a porter. My job description was to carry packages out to customers' cars. Otherwise, I sat in a small office with my co-worker named Al. He had been a porter for a long time. Our focus was the third floor, which had mostly home items like rugs, toys, housewares, bedding, and TV's. Al took a lot of smoke breaks. I didn't smoke at that time, so I did most of the work.
One day, a man bought an oriental rug. Those things were pretty heavy, and usually Al and I would do it together. But, he was on a smoke break, so I had to do it myself. It is amazing what one can do if you put your mind to it. We also sold these artificial trees. There was a metal rod that went up through the trunk, and it came off in sections. There was a small piece of metal exposed at each section. A woman, with a small child, bought one of those trees. I took it down in sections to her car. As I was putting it in the car, one of the metal sections put a hole in the fabric of the inside roof. I saw it happen, but I didn't say anything. Her little boy also saw it and said, "Mommy, he put a hole in your car!" He kept repeating this, as I was going back inside of the store. Well, the store had to repair the woman's car. I never heard the last of that. Another time, a mother was taking her child to the restroom, and the child didn't make it. He put a mess on the carpet outside the 2nd floor restroom. They called Al and me to clean it up. We had maids for that, but they weren't there. We refused to clean it up, so a saleswoman did it.
Belk knew I was going to Europe for three weeks. When I came back, I brought an ashtray from London for Al. I wasn't able to get my porter job back though. I guess they were still reeling about the damaged car, so I got a job in their warehouse, which was several blocks away from the store. Mr. Richie was my supervisor. He had been in the Army, and treated the workers as soldiers. It was hard work. I mostly put price tags on shoes and cosmetics. When I got off, I smelled like perfume.
Despite the hard work, I developed a love for Belk and its people. That would carry on through life.
One day, a man bought an oriental rug. Those things were pretty heavy, and usually Al and I would do it together. But, he was on a smoke break, so I had to do it myself. It is amazing what one can do if you put your mind to it. We also sold these artificial trees. There was a metal rod that went up through the trunk, and it came off in sections. There was a small piece of metal exposed at each section. A woman, with a small child, bought one of those trees. I took it down in sections to her car. As I was putting it in the car, one of the metal sections put a hole in the fabric of the inside roof. I saw it happen, but I didn't say anything. Her little boy also saw it and said, "Mommy, he put a hole in your car!" He kept repeating this, as I was going back inside of the store. Well, the store had to repair the woman's car. I never heard the last of that. Another time, a mother was taking her child to the restroom, and the child didn't make it. He put a mess on the carpet outside the 2nd floor restroom. They called Al and me to clean it up. We had maids for that, but they weren't there. We refused to clean it up, so a saleswoman did it.
Belk knew I was going to Europe for three weeks. When I came back, I brought an ashtray from London for Al. I wasn't able to get my porter job back though. I guess they were still reeling about the damaged car, so I got a job in their warehouse, which was several blocks away from the store. Mr. Richie was my supervisor. He had been in the Army, and treated the workers as soldiers. It was hard work. I mostly put price tags on shoes and cosmetics. When I got off, I smelled like perfume.
Despite the hard work, I developed a love for Belk and its people. That would carry on through life.
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