On Changing your Life

[BHold]

This is great stuff man. How could you really think no one would want to hear your story? You just left home without a plan and traveled the world moment to moment, amazing. This is something I have thought about, but have never actually gotten up and done (I'm probably not alone here). I guess I'm still fearful of breaking the established path of finishing college and getting a steady office job. Please keep the story coming.

[cecil]

i just googled "rafting guide" and this link came up. i then searched youtube for some videos and found this.

i have one more year of college left and am really thinking about giving this a try for a couple of years. im looking forward to the rest of your story adsman.

[r0eKY]

thanks adsman one of the best threads ever

work seems to be a major driving force or the need for money, since i started making the easy poker money i'm afraid i have lost all drive for real work, it feels like slave labor.

I would have told bossman to go feck himself back in chap2, there would be no hour after hour stand off

[Gobias Ind.]

Ads,
You are hands-down, one of, if not THE, best read on 2+2. I thoroughly enjoyed some of your stuff in OOT several months back.

[adsman]

Thanks for all the encouraging replies. The Africa chapter is proving to be a long one. Here's what I've got so far.

My friends saw me off at the Cairns airport. They were the best group of friends that I’ve ever had and it was hard to leave. I’d spent almost four years in Cairns and it had been a wonderful time. Some of those guys I’ve never seen again, although we stay in touch. One of them died of cancer. It’s the price you pay for moving around. It makes reunions tricky and expensive. I flew into Perth to stay with my family for a few days. Almost everyone thought I was mad to go. My father was very supportive. Also a good friend of my father. He is one of the top lawyers in Perth and he took me aside and told me that this trip would make or break me, but he thought it was a wonderful test.

I flew out of Perth on the midnight flight to Johannesburg. I landed at about 8 in the morning. We flew over Africa and it was simply surreal. This is Africa. And I was staying. Really staying. I hadn’t let my family in on a little secret. I only had a one way ticket. I couldn’t afford a return. At the airport I kept saying to myself, ‘Wow, I’m in Africa. This is what a third world country looks like.’ Boy was I in for a rude shock. A few hours later I got my connecting flight to Nairobi. We landed in the early afternoon. If I thought South Africa was third world then what the hell was Nairobi? The airport looked like it had been built and designed to be a car-park and then they had changed their mind at the last minute. I had an 8 hour wait for my connection to Entebbe. The waiting room was daunting. It was filled with all types of Africans. There were the really black ones from the Congo zones. Arabic ones in flowing robes and scarves. Businessmen from Nairobi in cheap suits. They were all watching American basketball. I was the only white guy there. They ignored me and I did my best to ignore them. The room was very hot. There was a little counter where a scowling woman sold bottles of warm coke. Now I was really in Africa. The flight to Entebbe lasted about an hour. We flew in at dusk. There was a burnt out 747 sitting on the tarmac, the same plane that had been stormed by Israeli commandos in 1978. Whoa. The plane taxied to a halt and we walked across the tarmac to the airport buildings. They were absolutely riddled with bullet holes. They were just shot to pieces. Okay, now I was in Africa.

I had my laptop with me and I was made to fire it up to prove it was mine. I did as I was asked and then a whole bunch of airport staff came over and wanted to see it. It took me almost half an hour to get away. I made it through customs and walked out to the taxi stand. It was evening now. The air was warm. A Ugandan dude came up to me with a sheepish look and handed me a note. This must be my ride into Kampala. The note said;

“Run Adam, run. It’s all gone to shiit. Get out while you still can.”

There was what appeared to be dried blood on the note. I didn’t even consider for a moment that this was real. Where was I supposed to run to? The Congo? I asked the little dude if he was a taxi driver. He was. I loaded my bags in the back of his taxi and we were all set to go when just at that moment Uncle Mick and Colin came out from behind a pillar with grins on their faces. Yeah guys, really funny. The first thing that Mick said was, “Where’s your fecking guitar?”
“I sold it to get here.”
“You sold it!? We only got you the job cause of how you play the guitar!”
We unloaded my bags from the now unhappy looking taxi drivers car and piled into the company car. It takes an hour to drive into Kampala from Entebbe. The first thing that struck me was the number of people. Between the airport and the city it’s basically scrubland and jungle, but there were people everywhere. Every 50 or so meters there was a fire on the side of the road with people standing around it. I couldn’t get my head around the situation. We were following an open-backed truck which had about 20 revelers in the back. They were drinking and shouting and carrying on and we couldn’t get past them. The state of the road was disrepair taken to lavish extremes. Suddenly the tailgate of the truck dropped open and a large box flew out of the truck. We had to swerve to avoid it. It cracked open and a body rolled out. It was a coffin. They were going to a funeral. We were stopped behind the truck as we watched the ‘revelers’ jump out to retrieve the body. They were all laughing and passing around bottles of beer. Smoke from the roadside fires drifted across the scene. Mick turned to me and with a deadpan stare said,

“Welcome to Africa.”

They drove me straight to Al’s Bar. Run by an Englishman who came to Uganda in the late seventies, he was said to have fled a murder rap in London. His bar consisted of three levels. On level one there was a bar, a stage and a lot of hookers. On level two there was a bar, a pool table and even more hookers. Level three was a backroom where you could smoke pot. There weren’t any hookers there. It was the hooker-free zone. The place was heaving. Every single girl in the place was drop-dead gorgeous. There were girls from every part of Africa. We entered and I was immediately introduced as the new Adrift guide. The girls were all over me. I was mobbed. I called out to Mick and Colin for help. Mick called out, “You have to pick one! If you pick one the rest of them will leave you alone!”

There was one who was absolutely stunning. I made to indicate her and Mick stopped me. “No, she’s got the slimming disease.”
“The slimming disease?”
“Yeah. Pick another one.”
I was close to getting my clothes torn off me. I pointed at another stunner. Mick shook his head. “Not such a good idea.”
“For fecks sake,” I said. “You pick one for me then!”
Immediately there was a chorus of, “Me Micky! Pick me, Micky! You love me Micky!” There must have been close to fifty girls there. Mick picked one for me. The rest slunk off to their preferred positions around the room. “What’s your name?” I asked the girl. She started to tell me when Colin interrupted. “Dude, you’re not supposed to talk to her. Here have a beer. She’s just to keep on your arm. She’s your body armor”
I proceeded to get very drunk. At one point I went to the ‘bathroom’. There was a bunch of Ugandans in there up against the urinals. Oh great. They better not make fun of my pee-pee. I walked over and unzipped. They made room. One of them said, “How are you, Mazungu?”
“Sorry bro, my name’s not Mazungu.”
They all laughed. “Ha ha, the mazungu says he is not a mazungu!”
A white guy who had just came in looked at me and said, “Mazungu is Ugandan for white man. You’re a mazungu.”
“Is it a nice word?” I asked.
The guy thought for a moment and then said, “You know, I’ve got no bloody idea.”

When I came back out, Colin and Mick were nowhere to be found. The truth soon became clear. They had fecked off and abandoned me for a joke. My girl was still on my arm. She was like superglue. Her name was Betty. She was from Somalia. She was very, very hot. She said, “Your friends, they leave in taxi car. They laughing very much.”
“Do you know where they live?” I asked. I was having trouble standing up.
“They live in Adrifty house.”
“Lets go,” I said. “Find me a taxi that knows the Adrift house.”
“Ok, mazungu.”

[fish2plus2]

awesome man, truely awesome. africa scares the crap out of me.

[r0eKY]

this was suspenseful the story is getting better and better. Its probably best you didn’t have poker cause you wouldn’t be in all these adventures

[ QUOTE ]
. They were going to a funeral. We were stopped behind the truck as we watched the ‘revelers’ jump out to retrieve the body. They were all laughing and passing around bottles of beer. Smoke from the roadside fires drifted across the scene. Mick turned to me and with a deadpan stare said,

“Welcome to Africa.”[ QUOTE ]

[bigt439]

I'm kind of hoping you're 75 years old now so that there are a lot more of these to come.

[SomethingClever]

These are getting better and better.

[TyFuji]

[ QUOTE ]
I'm kind of hoping you're 175 years old now so that there are a lot more of these to come.

[/ QUOTE ]