“...and walk away with a trip to beautiful Las Vegas Nevada! Enjoy a complimentary 5 day 4 night stay at any MGM casino resort all on us! No nonsense, no gimmicks. Just a bit of your precious time! Call today!”
Yes. A vacation extravaganza all on the arm. Courtesy of the Hibou Timeshare Corporation. All it cost was your time and cooperation for a timeshare presentation. Simple enough yes? I wish I would have realized how much better a couple of overtimes would have served me, than taking myself to that horrid building.
I was living in Phoenix AZ with my parents. Still half way bullshitting my final semester at college. I’ve got to be honest, I was checked out. It was summer..I was going to graduate and I had these final two classes in the bag. I could have failed my finals and still walked out with a C. Yes but that kind of luxury came at a price. My social life was the casualty in all of this. While I did have a tight knit of pals, my attendance to social gatherings were...well..less than punctual. I was usually doing work for one of my advanced classes. If not that, then I was pulling a shift at either of my jobs. Yeah..you could say I gave up the glamour of late night pizzas, puking in my friends car and hooking up with a random ASU frat sluts for a heavier wallet...except I was paying everything out of my own pocket. My gas, insurance, cell, college. I wasn't exactly hiding cash in the walls. My parents worked hard but..never did make a living to give me and my siblings an extravagant lifestyle. We were grateful though.
So when I heard that AD of how I could get a long needed vacation to party central Las Vegas, all for watching some BS timeshare I knew I wasn’t going to buy into, you bet your ass off I made that call. The phone only rang once before I got an answer,
“Thank you for calling the Hibou Timeshare Corporation, how can we help you?” a voice rang through the phone. The voice sounded shrill and sickly.
“Hi, I'm calling about the vacation in Vegas? Says that you need people for a presen..”
“Yeessss.” the voice interrupted “The timeshare presentation, well...we would be so honored to have you”
“Uhh..yeah...anyway I’d like to sign up? Is there a form online or do you take the information here?” I said..now feeling a bit tense.
“Well I'll tell you what...pack your things for the vacation. When we are finished presenting..we can send you on our way to Vegas. We just need..a bit of your time.”
That was that. He gave me the address, date and time of the meeting. The area was in a place called Amargosa Valley in Nevada. Luckily it was just about an hour away from Vegas. Before we parted ways on the phone, the operator said something...he said something that should have been a MAJOR red flag.
“Okay then, you’re all set...we will see you July 28th at 4:30pm. Not a moment later” he laughed
“Oh..and..one more thing, if you have some more specimens like yourself that might be interested in the free vacation...bring them along. They’ll all receive the same prize and you will receive $100 cash for every person you bring. We look forward to presenting you, Austin. Good day.”
I never gave him my name.
Still, my young dumb brain didn’t hear anything past $100 dollars. So I rounded up a few of my best pals and we were set to meet the reps over at the timeshare. The days leading up to the trip I couldn't get a hold of myself. It was so exciting. My first real vacation in...i couldn't remember how long. I longed for this type of adventure with my friends. We packed a truck full and set off to Amargosa Valley.
I brought Luke, Larry and Adam. We’d been friends since the 3rd grade. We all moved to AZ from different parts of the country that summer, so being new kids we naturally ganged up together. Luke was from Texas..we called him Tex. Real big guy. Loved to work out but definitely was a bit of a boozebag. Larry was from Ohio. Quiet in public but probably the loudest of us all. Always had some political conspiracy to talk about. Then Adam..Adam was interesting. He was from Florida...or Georgia...or Nebraska. Adam never could keep it straight about where he was from. He always had some sort of story and backtrack about where he’d come from. I personally thought he was probably from another part of AZ and just wanted to fit in...so we humor him and let him be the nomad of our group. I myself was originally from California...things got pricey so we made the move to blistering AZ.
That was my crew. No matter how long it had been, we were always as tight as ever. The ride was filled with laughing and gags. Stops at fast food joints and all around bullshitting. Yes it was an amazing time just driving there, we couldn't wait to get on with the meeting and head down to Boozeville USA. As we approached our destination...something felt off. Amargosa Valley had been a bit of a ghost town the whole drive. A gas station here. A small outlet there...but otherwise unpopulated. When we hit our destination we were met by a Chrome building. Smack center in the middle of the highway. As we parked at the only stall..we all took a look at each other.
“Well this is...odd.” Luke said plainly.
“Yeah man...are we really going there?” Adam shook out. Barely containing his fear.
“Look guys, I know it looks weird. This place is really clean and bright in the middle of a dusty desert but c’mon. It's like what...an hour of our time? Within 2 hours we’ll be on our way to the dopest guys trip ever.” I said...selfishly.
The guys all agreed. We got out, locked the car up and walked in through the sliding glass doors. The cool air hit us like a wave. Each of us breathing in the refreshingly cold air. The inside of this lobby..was also immaculate. Chrome everywhere. Right down to the sofas and chairs. A woman came from around the front desk.
“You must be here to be presented. I see you brought more specimens! What a joy! Will you gentlemen please follow me?” She said.
Specimens. Ugh. Her tone. That word still makes me shutter.
Me and the boys looked at each other..all with the same should we do it look on our faces. Maybe it was the cold air enticing our sweaty brows. We’d been a poorly AC’D truck for a couple hours. Or maybe it was the ice cold drinks she presented in front of us. Whatever the case we followed her through a door behind the front desk and were met with a grand auditorium. It looked as if it could hold maybe 50 people. And all they had was me and my knucklehead friends. As we sat down, sucking down sodas and waters, a mans voice came over the intercom.
“Welcome my friends to the Hibou Timeshare Corporation presentation. Today you will be examining the lifetime of these vessels. Determine whether or not you think they are a smart investment and make a choice if you would like to partake!” I recognized the voice. It was the same shrill tone that I set up the appointment with.
“Now my dear friends, it's time to sit back with your favorite drink...and listen..”
With that, a large projector screen came down from the celine. An old timey countdown began winding down.
BEEP3...BEEP2...BEEP1
From what I can remember, I heard the screams of something...unnatural. A scream so high tone that I felt as if my ears would burst with blood. I tried clasping my hands over my ears but to no avail. The screams were too overpowering. As soon as it started, I passed out.
I awoke looking at the lights on the celine. Unable to sit up. I could tell I was bareass naked on a metal table. I moved my head, the little that i could to see Adam next to me on another table. Naked as the day we were born. He was encased in what looked like a light purple energy field. Looking more in depth, I too had this field in front of me. Before I could speak the tables raised up. Bringing me upright. Bringing me face to face with Tex. To the left of me..Larry. “My friends, I present to you: Terramite 99-0 specimens.” a voice rang out. The same voice from the auditorium.
“They are..of the male species. Strong. Cunning and above all loyal...if raised properly.”
“HEY, you bastards. WTF is this! LET US GO!” Tex cried out. Before he could continue, the energy field tightened around him. Tex let out a scream that will haunt me for the rest of my life. The smell of burned flesh and hair filled the area. I would have puked had the horror of seeing my best friend being burned alive wasn't keeping my attention away from the smell. When the field lifted, Tex was stripped down to the muscle fibers. Hair burned down to the scalp. Tex convulsed until he finally relaxed into a hanging position on the table.
“Now see..specimen is now sedated. Reduced to a weaker position. With the energy field keeping him contained and the Auto-Reversal Time Warp engaging, we can have this specimen back into working shape immediately.”
There was an electrical hum in the air. As before my eyes, Tex’s skin began to heal. His hair growing back. And all burns subsiding. It was as if nothing had happened to him. He still hung in limbo, but we could see the breath return to his chest.The rest of us let out bits of gasps of horror and astonishment.
I could see Adam crying a bit in the corner of my eyes.
A figure appeared from behind me. A tentacle graced my shoulder, not even phased by the force field. I caught sight of the creature. It stood around 7foot tall. Skin that looked human but a head that was elongated. No nose. And eyes that were black as coal. It had two tentacles for hands. I could not see its feet, as it was covered by a long gown.
Larry screamed in anger. “Your...your...a...a…” he managed to get out before the creature silenced him.
“Shhhh….I am...a salesman is all. Now my friends I will demonstrate the life cycle of the Terramite 99-0’s.”
With that, Larry's forcefield began to hum. Right before my eyes Larry began to get...smaller. Not in stature necessarily, no, but in age. He went from being a young man..to a teenager..to that kid i met in 3rd grade..to an infant. His cries were extremely loud. Unaware of the horrors around him. At that moment I could hear Adam's field begin to hum.
“Please no! Please!” Adam begged.
“If you will direct your attention to our third pod:”
Adam then began to scream as he went from a young man..to middle aged man...to retirement age and finally...to a decrepit old man. Hair as white as snow. Wrinkled beyond recognition. Each breath looking to nearly be his last.
“From birth to the declining ages of 70 and beyond the Auto-Reversal Time Warp pods are the perfect tool to use when training your armys, your children, your slaves. Imagine...never having to replace workers. Never worrying if your training methods or punishments might go too far. Never losing a prisoner to death. And though the Terramites look to be difficult to control, I can guarantee their cooperation once put through the proper training.” The creature said. Full of glee in his dead eyes.
Between the crying of baby larry and incoherent babbling of old man adam, the room felt like it was spinning. Just when I thought things couldn't get any stranger, the rest of the lights came to life. The room we were in were surrounded by seats, similar to the ones we sat in. However, sitting in these seats were ghastly creatures of different varieties. Some looked like the salesman creature. Others were ogreish. Large bodied creatures covered in a film of slime. Some of them even looked human. It was the eyes though...their eyes were a teal color with white pupils. Many many creatures looked up me and my friends. All of them began clapping their hands and cheering in unison. The claps were deafening. The cries of the baby felt as if a baseball bat was ramming my head. Adams babbling was terrifyingly disturbing. And Tex...hanging there. Eyes rolled back into his skull. I couldnt imagine the hell he began to feel. At this point I wondered what awaited my fate. The clapping stopped abruptly.
“Oh...Austin...yes, well if you want to know what fate awaits you just shut your eyes. Shut your eyes and quietly count back from 3.” the creature said...was he reading my mind?
Suddenly the urge to close my eyes overtook me. Almost as if I had no choice, I began counting down. 3….2….1….
Everything went black. I wasn't sure if i was alive or dead...or somewhere in between. I saw nothing but black for what felt like a lifetime. And in an instant...I heard that same shrill scream. Only this time I could not cover my ears. I couldn’t feel my body but I felt an unimaginable amount of pain. As the scream grew to its peak, I slammed my eyes open. Trying to catch my breath.
I was back in the car...we were all back in the car. The engine was on. Shitty ac blasting. The others were still out. I sat up in my seat. Not wanting to move too suddenly. The sun was beating down on us. I looked over at the time on the dash…July 28th 4:34 pm. I reached into my shirt pocket and I found several vouchers for the MGM hotels in Vegas along with $300 dollars. I also found a card that simply read “Hibou Timeshare Corp. would like to thank you for a bit of your time”
The boys came too. All feeling rather groggy.
“We all fell asleep huh?” Adam laughed. “We here?”
They didn't remember a thing. Not one thing. Not going in...not the reception area...not the freaky timeshare presentation...not one bit. I lied...i told them that while they were sound asleep, we arrived a little earlier than expected. The presenter had an emergency and left our vouchers at the front desk and apologized profusely.
“Wow, what a gentleman!” Tex laughed. “We definitely owe it to him to sit through another timeshare, probono.” Larry added.
I think it's safe to say that I will not be returning to this or any other timeshare. As I drove away I could see the building disappear in the rear view mirror.
So if you’re traveling deep within the southwest of the United States and hear an ad for a free vacation that's too good to be true...do yourself a favor..turn off the radio, call into work and ask for some overtime..because nothing is ever given for free.
submitted by “...and walk away with a trip to beautiful Las Vegas Nevada! Enjoy a complimentary 5 day 4 night stay at any MGM casino resort all on us! No nonsense, no gimmicks. Just a bit of your precious time! Call today!”
Yes. A vacation extravaganza all on the arm. Courtesy of the Hibou Timeshare Corporation. All it cost was your time and cooperation for a timeshare presentation. Simple enough yes? I wish I would have realized how much better a couple of overtimes would have served me, than taking myself to that horrid building.
I was living in Phoenix AZ with my parents. Still half way bullshitting my final semester at college. I’ve got to be honest, I was checked out. It was summer..I was going to graduate and I had these final two classes in the bag. I could have failed my finals and still walked out with a C. Yes but that kind of luxury came at a price. My social life was the casualty in all of this. While I did have a tight knit of pals, my attendance to social gatherings were...well..less than punctual. I was usually doing work for one of my advanced classes. If not that, then I was pulling a shift at either of my jobs. Yeah..you could say I gave up the glamour of late night pizzas, puking in my friends car and hooking up with a random ASU frat sluts for a heavier wallet...except I was paying everything out of my own pocket. My gas, insurance, cell, college. I wasn't exactly hiding cash in the walls. My parents worked hard but..never did make a living to give me and my siblings an extravagant lifestyle. We were grateful though.
So when I heard that AD of how I could get a long needed vacation to party central Las Vegas, all for watching some BS timeshare I knew I wasn’t going to buy into, you bet your ass off I made that call. The phone only rang once before I got an answer,
“Thank you for calling the Hibou Timeshare Corporation, how can we help you?” a voice rang through the phone. The voice sounded shrill and sickly.
“Hi, I'm calling about the vacation in Vegas? Says that you need people for a presen..”
“Yeessss.” the voice interrupted “The timeshare presentation, well...we would be so honored to have you”
“Uhh..yeah...anyway I’d like to sign up? Is there a form online or do you take the information here?” I said..now feeling a bit tense.
“Well I'll tell you what...pack your things for the vacation. When we are finished presenting..we can send you on our way to Vegas. We just need..a bit of your time.”
That was that. He gave me the address, date and time of the meeting. The area was in a place called Amargosa Valley in Nevada. Luckily it was just about an hour away from Vegas. Before we parted ways on the phone, the operator said something...he said something that should have been a MAJOR red flag.
“Okay then, you’re all set...we will see you July 28th at 4:30pm. Not a moment later” he laughed
“Oh..and..one more thing, if you have some more specimens like yourself that might be interested in the free vacation...bring them along. They’ll all receive the same prize and you will receive $100 cash for every person you bring. We look forward to presenting you, Austin. Good day.”
I never gave him my name.
Still, my young dumb brain didn’t hear anything past $100 dollars. So I rounded up a few of my best pals and we were set to meet the reps over at the timeshare. The days leading up to the trip I couldn't get a hold of myself. It was so exciting. My first real vacation in...i couldn't remember how long. I longed for this type of adventure with my friends. We packed a truck full and set off to Amargosa Valley.
I brought Luke, Larry and Adam. We’d been friends since the 3rd grade. We all moved to AZ from different parts of the country that summer, so being new kids we naturally ganged up together. Luke was from Texas..we called him Tex. Real big guy. Loved to work out but definitely was a bit of a boozebag. Larry was from Ohio. Quiet in public but probably the loudest of us all. Always had some political conspiracy to talk about. Then Adam..Adam was interesting. He was from Florida...or Georgia...or Nebraska. Adam never could keep it straight about where he was from. He always had some sort of story and backtrack about where he’d come from. I personally thought he was probably from another part of AZ and just wanted to fit in...so we humor him and let him be the nomad of our group. I myself was originally from California...things got pricey so we made the move to blistering AZ.
That was my crew. No matter how long it had been, we were always as tight as ever. The ride was filled with laughing and gags. Stops at fast food joints and all around bullshitting. Yes it was an amazing time just driving there, we couldn't wait to get on with the meeting and head down to Boozeville USA. As we approached our destination...something felt off. Amargosa Valley had been a bit of a ghost town the whole drive. A gas station here. A small outlet there...but otherwise unpopulated. When we hit our destination we were met by a Chrome building. Smack center in the middle of the highway. As we parked at the only stall..we all took a look at each other.
“Well this is...odd.” Luke said plainly.
“Yeah man...are we really going there?” Adam shook out. Barely containing his fear.
“Look guys, I know it looks weird. This place is really clean and bright in the middle of a dusty desert but c’mon. It's like what...an hour of our time? Within 2 hours we’ll be on our way to the dopest guys trip ever.” I said...selfishly.
The guys all agreed. We got out, locked the car up and walked in through the sliding glass doors. The cool air hit us like a wave. Each of us breathing in the refreshingly cold air. The inside of this lobby..was also immaculate. Chrome everywhere. Right down to the sofas and chairs. A woman came from around the front desk.
“You must be here to be presented. I see you brought more specimens! What a joy! Will you gentlemen please follow me?” She said.
Specimens. Ugh. Her tone. That word still makes me shutter.
Me and the boys looked at each other..all with the same should we do it look on our faces. Maybe it was the cold air enticing our sweaty brows. We’d been a poorly AC’D truck for a couple hours. Or maybe it was the ice cold drinks she presented in front of us. Whatever the case we followed her through a door behind the front desk and were met with a grand auditorium. It looked as if it could hold maybe 50 people. And all they had was me and my knucklehead friends. As we sat down, sucking down sodas and waters, a mans voice came over the intercom.
“Welcome my friends to the Hibou Timeshare Corporation presentation. Today you will be examining the lifetime of these vessels. Determine whether or not you think they are a smart investment and make a choice if you would like to partake!” I recognized the voice. It was the same shrill tone that I set up the appointment with.
“Now my dear friends, it's time to sit back with your favorite drink...and listen..”
With that, a large projector screen came down from the celine. An old timey countdown began winding down.
BEEP3...BEEP2...BEEP1
From what I can remember, I heard the screams of something...unnatural. A scream so high tone that I felt as if my ears would burst with blood. I tried clasping my hands over my ears but to no avail. The screams were too overpowering. As soon as it started, I passed out.
I awoke looking at the lights on the celine. Unable to sit up. I could tell I was bareass naked on a metal table. I moved my head, the little that i could to see Adam next to me on another table. Naked as the day we were born. He was encased in what looked like a light purple energy field. Looking more in depth, I too had this field in front of me. Before I could speak the tables raised up. Bringing me upright. Bringing me face to face with Tex. To the left of me..Larry. “My friends, I present to you: Terramite 99-0 specimens.” a voice rang out. The same voice from the auditorium.
“They are..of the male species. Strong. Cunning and above all loyal...if raised properly.”
“HEY, you bastards. WTF is this! LET US GO!” Tex cried out. Before he could continue, the energy field tightened around him. Tex let out a scream that will haunt me for the rest of my life. The smell of burned flesh and hair filled the area. I would have puked had the horror of seeing my best friend being burned alive wasn't keeping my attention away from the smell. When the field lifted, Tex was stripped down to the muscle fibers. Hair burned down to the scalp. Tex convulsed until he finally relaxed into a hanging position on the table.
“Now see..specimen is now sedated. Relaxed into a weaker position. With the energy field keeping him contained and the Auto-Reversal Time Warp engaging, we can have this specimen back into working shape immediately.”
There was an electrical hum in the air. As before my eyes, Tex’s skin began to heal. His hair growing back. And all burns subsiding. It was as if nothing had happened to him. He still hung in limbo, but we could see the breath return to his chest.The rest of us let out bits of gasps of horror and astonishment.
I could see Adam crying a bit in the corner of my eyes.
A figure appeared from behind me. A tentacle graced my shoulder, not even phased by the force field. I caught sight of the creature. It stood around 7foot tall. Skin that looked human but a head that was elongated. No nose. And eyes that were black as coal. It had two tentacles for hands. I could not see its feet, as it was covered by a long gown.
Larry screamed in anger. “Your...your...a...a…” he managed to get out before the creature silenced him.
“Shhhh….I am...a salesman is all. Now my friends I will demonstrate the life cycle of the Terramite 99-0’s.”
With that, Larry's forcefield began to hum. Right before my eyes Larry began to get...smaller. Not in stature necessarily, no, but in age. He went from being a young man..to a teenager..to that kid i met in 3rd grade..to an infant. His cries were extremely loud. Unaware of the horrors around him. At that moment I could hear Adam's field begin to hum.
“Please no! Please!” Adam begged.
“If you will direct your attention to our third pod:”
Adam then began to scream as he went from a young man..to middle aged man...to retirement age and finally...to a decrepit old man. Hair as white as snow. Wrinkled beyond recognition. Each breath looking to nearly be his last.
“From birth to the declining ages of 70 to 100 Terran years…the Auto-Reversal Time Warp pods are the perfect tool to use when training your armys, your children, your slaves. Imagine...never having to replace workers. Never worrying if your training methods or punishments might go too far. Never losing a prisoner to death.” The creature said. Full of glee in his dead eyes.
Between the crying of baby larry and incoherent babbling of old man adam, the room felt like it was spinning. Just when I thought things couldn't get any stranger, the rest of the lights came to life. The room we were in were surrounded by seats, similar to the ones we sat in. However, sitting in these seats were ghastly creatures of different varieties. Some looked like the salesman creature. Others were ogreish. Large bodied creatures covered in a film of slime. Some of them even looked human. It was the eyes though...their eyes were a teal color with white pupils. Many many creatures looked up me and my friends. All of them began clapping their hands in unison. The claps were deafening. The cries of the baby felt as if a baseball bat was connecting with my head every second. Adams babbling was terrifyingly disturbing. And Tex...hanging there. Eyes rolled back into his skull. I couldnt imagine the hell he began to feel. At this point I wondered what awaited my fate. The clapping stopped abruptly.
“Oh...Austin...yes, well if you want to know what fate awaits you just shut your eyes. Shut your eyes and quietly count back from 3.” the creature said...was he reading my mind?
Suddenly the urge to close my eyes overtook me. Almost as if I had no choice, I began counting down. 3….2….1….
Everything went black. I wasn't sure if i was alive or dead...or somewhere in between. I saw nothing but black for what felt like a lifetime. And in an instant...I heard that same shrill scream. Only this time I could not cover my ears. I couldn’t feel my body but I felt an unimaginable amount of pain. As the scream grew to its peak, I slammed my eyes open. Trying to catch my breath.
I was back in the car...we were all back in the car. The engine was on. Shitty ac blasting. The others were still out. I sat up in my seat. Not wanting to move too suddenly. The sun was beating down on us. I looked over at the time on the dash…July 28th 4:34 pm. I reached into my shirt pocket and I found several vouchers for the MGM hotels in Vegas along with $300 dollars. I also found a card that simply read “Hibou Timeshare Corp. would like to thank you for a bit of your time”
The boys came too. All feeling rather groggy.
“We all fell asleep huh?” Adam laughed. “We here?”
They didn't remember a thing. Not one thing. Not going in...not the reception area...not the freaky timeshare presentation...not one bit. I lied...i told them that while they were sound asleep, we arrived a little earlier than expected. The presenter had an emergency and left our vouchers at the front desk and apologized profusely.
“Wow, what a gentleman!” Tex laughed. “We definitely owe it to him to sit through another timeshare, probono.” Larry added.
I think it's safe to say that I will not be returning to this or any other timeshare. As I drove away I could see the building disappear in the rear view mirror.
So if you’re traveling deep within the southwest of the United States and hear an ad for a free vacation that's too good to be true...do yourself a favor..turn off the radio, call into work and ask for some overtime..because nothing is ever given for free.
submitted by Continuing… “Well, if that doesn’t throw the damper on things.” Dax remarks on our trip back down to the ground floor.
“Yeah. How rude. Up and deceasing your own self without bothering to tell anyone beforehand.” I noted.
“This is going to be a bloody balls-up. Trust me. This is going to be inordinately messy. A bog-standard botch job. A total dog’s dinner, just wait and see.” Cliffs adds.
“First, we have to contact IUPGS. Then what? Does Bulgaria have a consulate or embassy here? I wouldn’t think so…Then what?” I grieved. For once, I was rather low; both emotionally and on ideas.
“Let’s go back to the conference room and let everyone know. We’ll pull a brain session together. We should be able to sort out what needs to be done. The hotel already knows, so the state security forces also do as well. Be prepared for lengthy interrogation sessions, Gentlemen”, Cliff advised.
Back in the conference room, we relayed the sad information. All were taken aback and there were general notes of commiseration. However, since no one knew Iskren too well personally, it was more detached professionalism rather than overt weeping and wailing.
“Let us toast to our fallen comrade!” was accepted as both entirely appropriate and a damn good idea.
I got on the conference room phone and ordered up some more sandwiches, mixers, and bottles of booze. The moment was obviously structured that way, I reasoned.
We made our toasts to our fallen comrade and we had half a chalkboard filled with suggestions of what to do next.
The main consensus was: “Nothing.”
As in there was not much we could do. We were foreign nationals in a strangely foreign land. Our comrade was the sole member of his country, that is, Bulgaria, and the closest geographically we had aboard was Dr. Academician Ivan. No one wanted to loose Ivan on the DPRK security forces and have to deal with all that international fallout.
After some number of hours, after I suggested we all remain in the conference room as we’d (A.) be together, as in unity there is strength, (2.) we’d have each other’s backs when and if it came to interrogations, and, (iii.) this is where the free booze was.
Then there was a polite knock on the door.
I, as the den mother of this special education class, slowly got up and answered the knock.
It was a cadre of DPRK internal security forces, kitted out in their spiffy, tailor-made, and actually, quite smart-looking uniforms. Shoes and buttons polished to mirror-finishes, pants creases that could cut flesh, and enough polished brass to construct a spittoon.
“Hello? Yes?” I said through the semi-opened door.
“May we please come in? If the time is convenient.”, the head military type, very treacly asked.
“Of course”, I replied, “Please, do come in.”
Four of them entered as one. They did a quick-step, tight-march formation together and went to the head of the conference table.
“Good day, gentlemen. I am Colonel Hwangbo Dong-Hyeon of Internal State Security. First, we must offer condolences on the loss of your comrade. It must have come as a shock.” He intones.
There are mutters of “Thanks.” and “Damn right it was.”
“I have been entrusted to update you on the, ah, ‘situation’. First, Dr. Iskren Dragomirov Dinev, recently deceased, has been examined by the best medical practitioners in the country. He was obviously a foreign national and state guest, and we do not wish this to be a cause of suspicion or mistrust, especially during this auspicious Festival season.” He asserted.
We listened with rapt attention.
“I am authorized to tell you that it does not appear that the late Dr. Dinev expired of any untoward circumstances; or ‘foul play’, I believe is the western term. It has been ascertained that he expired due to wholly natural causes; namely massive myocardial infarction. Given his age, apparent health, and, ah, mass, this does seem a most reasonable explanation. This has been verified by no less than three DPRK medical professionals; one of which is the Emeritus teaching professor of Cardiology at Pyongyang Medical University. Again, you have our deepest condolences on the loss of your comrade.” He continued.
“I do remember Iskren complaining of gas pains the other night at the bar,” Joon agreed. “Thought nothing of it, given the change in all our diets.”
Colonel Hwangbo studied Joon like an entomologist examining a particularly fascinating new species of beetle.
“Which has been fine! Just rather rich compared to our usual food!” Joon hastily added.
Satisfied that Joon wasn’t making light of the ‘fine’ North Korean cuisine, Colonel Hwangbo continued, “As such, the Bulgarian Embassy here in Pyongyang has been contacted and apprised of the situation. They have taken over the case, as well as recovered the mortal remains and possessions of Dr. Dinev; all of which were conserved and authenticated by his Bulgarian national counterparts.”
“Ah, that’s good”, I said, “I’m pleased that there actually is a Bulgarian embassy here.”
“Ah. So.”, Col. Hwangbo continued, “Yes. They have already taken possession of Dr. Dinev’s mortal remains and possessions as I had noted, and will handle their repatriation to his country and family. As you can see, we have acted in the best of faith and with the utmost respect for your lately departed. Again, our condolences.”
There were some “Harrumphs”, and “Yeah, rights”, from the crowd, but since I was the team leader, it fell to me to handle this situation from here on out.
“Yes, indeed”, I replied, “We see that and do so deeply appreciate your efficiency and your keeping open the lines of communication. We have absolutely no room to complain. You, your team, your country, and your services have acted to the highest degree of professionalism and decorum. Let me extend, for the team, our heartiest appreciations in this most unfortunate matter.”
That seemed to please the Korean security forces. So much so they didn’t see the rolling eyes and smirks of grudging compliance from the crowd. I gave the evil-eye to several who were twittering quietly at my delivery of a load of over-the-top twaddle in the name of international goodwill.
“Thank you, Doctor…? Doctor…?”, he asked.
“Doctor Rocknocker.” I replied, “It’s spelled just as it sounds,”, I chuckled a knowing chuckle.
Colonel Hwangbo cracked a small smile for the first time since we met.
“As long as our orders of business are concluded, “ I inquired, “Might we offer you and your men a drink or sandwich or…”
“Cigar?” he suddenly brightened.
I smiled the sly, smirking smile of one of those used to the old duplicitous game of international diplomacy.
“Why”, I replied smilingly, “Of course.”
Col Hwangbo gratefully accepted a brace of fine Oscuro cigars. Probably more tobacco he’s seen in one place at one time since the last he rousted a snozzeled Western journalist or hammered European tourist with an overage of custom’s tobacco allowances.
His team eschewed cigars, but gladly accepted a pack each of pastel-colored Sobranie cocktail cigarettes.
It still slays me to see these battle-hardened, armed-to-the-teeth, unsmiling servants of the great state of Best Korea mincing about the courtyard smoking avocado, baby-blue, and peach-colored pastel cigarettes.
The Colonel and his team left after a couple of quick smokes, sandwiches, and surreptitious beers. I even enticed the Colonel into a couple of convivial vodka toasts when his team was otherwise occupied.
“Well, gang”, I said, closing the door, “Looks like that situation has been handled, most appropriately at that. We’ll miss ol’ Iskren, but at least he went fast and hopefully painlessly.”
I knew that last one was but a load of old dingo’s kidneys as I’ve had run-ins with cardiac disorders in the past and they are anything
but painless. In any case, that was, as I noted, in the past. What was done is done. It was as it was. It is as it is.
“So, gentlemen”, I say, “Let us get back to work. Reality calls. Now, we’ve given you landlubbers the lowdown on our seismic pleasure cruise. Now we’d like to hear what you who had stayed onshore have come up with.”
Erlan, Graco, and Viv fill us in on the regional geology of Best Korea and lay out a plan to examine the sedimentary piles closest to the few paved roads in the north and east of the country.
We’ll be traveling by bus, as my request for four or five off-road vehicles was denied due to timing and lack of availability.
Yeah. Right. What a massive pile of bovine biogenic colluvium. A country with a military as huge as Best Korea’s and they can’t spare a few jeeps or Hummer reproductions?
Truth be told, they still don’t trust us and don’t want to let us out of their sight.
However, we did manage to snag some internal publications from the Central Geological Survey of Mineral Resources, which we figured as a major coup. Never before were Westerners allowed to even know of the existence of these materials, much less be able to research (read: slyly copy) them.
That ‘personal shaver’ I carried was actually a sneaky personal copier, a Vupoint ST470 Magic Wand Portable Scanner with all the external stickers peeled off, and any serial numbers abraded away.
Hey, they photograph us from every angle on the sly, listen in on our conversations, record our phone calls…hell, turnabout isn’t just fair play, it’s almost expected.
It’d be rude to refuse to play along.
Anyways, we learned that The Korean Peninsula (KP) occupies a junction area of three large tectonic domains that are the Paleo-Central Asian Orogenic Belt, Paleo-Tethyan Orogenic Belt, and the Western Pacific Orogenic Belt.
Tectono-fascinating.
To summarize:
- The Archean Rangrim massif is divided into the Rangrim and Kwanmo submassifs, high-grade region and greenstone belt, respectively.
- Early Paleoproterozoic rocks underwent metamorphism up to granulite facies, which may be correlated to the Jiao-Liao-Ji mobile belt in the North China Craton (NCC).
- Proterozoic rift sequences in North Korea are similar to those in the NCC with rare late Paleoproterozoic strata and more Neoproterozoic strata.
- Mesozoic igneous rocks are extensively distributed in the KP.
- The main Paleozoic basin, the Phyongnam basin in NK, have a similar Paleozoic tectono-stratigraphy to the NCC.
Of most interest is item #5. The Phyongnam basin is the only sedimentary and depositional basin of mention in the north of the Korean peninsula; and therefore the center of our attention as it pertains to oil and gas.
The potential source rocks, and possible reservoirs, include the Paleozoic Late Ordovician Miru Series was identified as the Koksan Series and subsequently renamed. The 170-meter thick limestone and siltstone centered around the P'yongnam Basin have extensive crinoid, coral, and gastropod fossils. Paleogeography researchers have suggested that corals formed in the Miru Sea-a branch of the South Yangtze Sea. At the base of the Taedong Synthem is the P'yong'an Supergroup, which lies disconformably atop older Paleozoic rocks.
In the Pyongyang Coalfield it is divided into the 650-meter sandstone, shale, and conglomerate of the Nogam Formation, the 500-meter Kobangsan Formation, 350-meter coal-bearing Sadong Formation and 250-meter chert-bearing Hongjom Formation, all typically assigned to an Upper Permian shallow marine environment.
In the Mesozoic, north of Pyongyang, Precambrian basement rocks are unconformably overlain by a Jurassic limestone conglomerate ascending to layers of siltstone and mudstone. The Upper Jurassic Shinuiju Formation northwest of Shinuiju has sandstone, conglomerate, and mudstone up to two kilometers thick.
Offshore drilling in the West Korea Bay Basin indicates these rocks are the onshore extension of offshore units. It is subdivided into fluvial rocks and Upper Jurassic black shale, limestone, conglomerate and sandstone formed in a lake environment.
There are very few Cenozoic sediments are known in North Korea, likely as a result of erosion due to uplift of the peninsula. Submarine normal faults along the eastern coastline may have driven crustal tilting. The 350-meter thick Bongsan Coalfield in Hwanghae Province on the west coast preserves and coal-bearing layers dating to the Eocene.
Further to the north, in the West Korea Bay Basin Eocene and Oligocene sedimentary rocks up to three kilometers thick unconformably overlie Mesozoic rocks, formed in lakes and coal swamps during the Paleogene.
What this meant is that we’d need to travel mostly northeast and/or southwest. This was fortuitous as the paved roads in the country were created in structural valleys formed by the primary fault trends in the country. The main trans-tensional set trended NE:SW and the conjugate set trends approximately 90
0 to the main set at NW:SE.
The topography was heavily dissected by drainages and the terrain consists mostly of hills and mountains separated by deep, narrow valleys. The coastal plains are wide in the west and discontinuous in the east.
The plan was to take the bus north to Sunchon, then hang a right off towards Unsan and Yongha. There were outcrops between the last two towns and they appear to be upper Paleozoic to Lower Mesozoic clastics. Ideal oil and gas hunting grounds.
From there, we’d head north-northeast towards Yangwon. There appeared to be some fair to excellent outcrops of rocks that are as of yet, unidentified as to age. From there, we’d continue to follow the outcrop belts either to their termination at the basin’s edges or at international borders with China or Russia.
But, once we hit the field, time goes into relative warp. Put a bunch of geologists out on some relatively virgin outcrops and just stand back as they spend hour after hour after hour first looking for evidence of the formation’s provenance, it’s age and field relations. Then begin the heartfelt, stalwart, and sometimes vicious, arguments between all concerned about each and every one of those salient points.
We were all looking forward to it and wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s our intellectual and scientific equivalent of meat and potatoes.
We all agreed on a way forward and generated a document to deliver to those in charge of our logistics on this trip. There would be a total of 11 Western geoscientists, four guides, perhaps a couple of national geologists or geophysicists, and whatever cadre the shiny suit squad wanted to include.
There would also be a driver, his relief, and a couple of extra translators. Good thing it was a large bus, as it’s going to be a huge crew.
We needed to allow our handlers a full day to arrange room and board for us while in the field, as we had to be bivouacked somewhere outside our fine hotel. It needed to be secure, pass sanctuary muster, and be ‘controllable’, referring to both Western scientists and nosy locals.
One thing we found odd was the lack of concern for long-term logistics, not to mention the end of our self-ordained indentured servitude. When this trip and all the Western geoscientists were contacted, we were all assured of an opportunity to meet with the Supreme Leader, Kim Jong-Un once our trip was completed.
We were to personally deliver one hell of an international photo-op. A ‘hey look how progressive we are’ meeting and our findings in this wonderful and progressive country.
But lately, with what we thought was the fallout of the Festival washing out all the usual propaganda, we’ve heard nothing about Herr Comrade Leader Supremo, K1J1-Un. Nor had we heard one iota about our intended final meeting with him before we left for China.
Since there are “absolutely no” COVID-19 cases in Best Korea, it seemed, well, odd that Beijing was our only possible current exit port of call, and onward to our individual homes.
There were all flavors of rumors flying all throughout the basement bars and casinos of the hotel. One claimed that Kim was now receiving treatment at a villa in the Mount Myohyang resort north of the capital Pyongyang after cardiovascular surgery. That he was near death and that his sister, Kim Yo Jong, is already warming up in the North Korean political bullpen if her brother kacks it.
Others said Kim is believed to be staying at an unspecified location outside of Pyongyang, with some close confidants. It was said that Kim appeared to be normally engaged with state affairs and there has not been any unusual movement or emergency reaction from North Korea's governing party, military, or cabinet.
There was also one other that tries to cover up any conspiracy rumors by shouting over a raspy bullhorn: "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!”, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!"; but most ignored that little crank.
We all thought that rather odd, but of fairly low concern. In the final analysis, it would have little impact on our studies and their outcome. In other words, it wouldn’t affect our pay one way or the other. We all felt like we’ve given more than what was called for on missions such as this.
And we still haven’t a clue as to when this will all come to an end.
However, we all agreed to the consultation, it would have been fun to meet with him and have our pictures taken with the Supreme Leader. Dr. Academician Ivan Ivanovich Khimik. was especially cheesed that he might miss the opportunity to make finger-vee bunny ears behind the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of the DPRK during one of our photo sessions.
We all agree if we do somehow find ourselves in the same room with Ivan and Kim Jong-Un, we’ll form a human shield around the latter. We want to get back home; as we’ve all heard the rumors of the horrors of ‘political realignment’ camps here in Best Korea.
So the meeting breaks up and I’m left with Dax to take the final inventory. Two loads of sandwiches gone, piles of used napkins, ketchup-y table linens, bacon rinds and chicken bones, drippy ends of ice cream cones, prune pits, peach pits, orange peel, gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal, pizza crusts, and withered greens, soggy beans and tangerines, crusts of black burned buttered toast, gristly bits of beefy roasts…
“The hell with this”, I say, I grab the last nearly full bottle of vodka and hand Dax a bottle of Royal Navy dark Rum.
“Tally’s good”, I say, not really giving two tiny shits at this point. “At least, I think it is. Let’s make like horseshit and hit the trail.”
“I’m headed back to our floor and going to zone out in front of some old, looped BBC for the next few hours with a cold drink and hot cigar.” I proclaim.
“Oh, hell”, Dax says, “I agree. It’s been a weird couple of days. Let’s go.”
And so we do.
On the way, I leave the logistics concerns and itinerary for the upcoming field trips with the front desk clerk. I slip her 1000 won as its Festival! and I had a bulgy pocketful of same. She smiled and quietly said there’s be a surprise waiting for me in my room when I got there.
“Rock, you fucking old hound!”, Dax exclaimed as he punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Taking a dip in the hotel secretarial pool?”
“Dax, you surprise me”, I said in my defense, “I have been, and continue to be, happily married for the last 38 years to the most loving, most intelligent, most well-connected, and most accurate snap-shot with a Glock .380 Automatic I know of.”
“Well, me ol’ mucker”, Dax smiles slyly, “If one has been happily married for 38 years, one must have a little something on the side. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge, ‘eh, Squire?”
“Oh, nothing like that”, I replied, while waiting the obligatory 30 minutes for the fucking elevator to arrive. “I couldn't break my word to Esme, and not because I don’t believe in a God that will send me to Hell without an electric fan or because it's not the right thing to do. I simply don't want to. A man is only as good as his word; and if he loses that, he loses too much. I couldn’t function without people thinking that I’m square and on the level. My business would crumble to dust. As would my marriage.”
“Yeah, there is that”, Dax agrees, “You say something is going to happen and God damn, it fucking happens. That’s what makes you honest and honestly scary.”
I stare intently at the annunciator that tells me the fucking elevator is stuck on 4 again.
“You’re not mob, are you?” Dax harshly whispers, snickeringly.
I turn to face Dax and smile wistfully.
“
Я с уважением отказываюсь отвечать, потому что я искренне верю, что мой ответ может обвинить меня”, I reply quietly.
“What the hell does that mean?” Dax demands.
“I respectfully decline to answer because I honestly believe my answer might tend to incriminate me”, I calmly reply.
“Oh, look. Bloody elevator’s finally here.” I note and stride aboard.
Dax gets caught up in the tsunami of the crowd and is carried bodily inside. It was so remorseless, he almost lost his grip on his bottle of Dark Rum.
Up on ‘our’ floor, I go to key open my room. Dax is just down the hall and looking around to see what special surprise might show up. I was too tired to wait so I just push in, and see all my field clothes fully laundered, pressed, and either folded or hanging.
Someone broke into my room during the day and committed a compound neatness.
“POUND! Pound! POUND!” Hmm, appears to be someone at my door.
“Yes, Dax?” I said.
“You too?” he fumed, “Everything, cleaned to within an inch if its life. They even polished my bloody field boots.”
“Oh, fuck”, I said and ran to find mine re-pristinized.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCKITYFUCKFUCK!” I swore. They had polished my field boots and removed the fine years-of-work-to-acquire near-subsurface of the leather’s oil layer. They polished the water-proofing and conditioning out of the leather of our boots.
“OK. OK.”, I said, “Minor emergency. Cool out. I have the solution.”
I toss Dax a small can. It was brown, oily, and claimed to be “Neatsfoot oil”. It was the SPF- 500 of field leathers.
“Go ahead and oil them up with that”, I told Dax, “I’ve got another can, so don’t worry. Use what you need, don’t be shy, but if there’s any left, let me know. I’ll combine ours and offer it to anyone else in the team who had their boots steam-cleaned.”
So, a bit later, I’m sitting on my hotel room’s floor, on several sheets of newspaper, rubbing Neatsfoot Oil into my ancient, multinational size 16 EEE Vasque™ Tracker field boots.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
“It’s open. Enter carefully”, I say aloud.
It’s a bell clerk with a room service cart. On the cart are a bucket of ice, a bowl of sliced limes, I think, several gimlet glasses, some Best Korean ‘Air Koryo’ carbonated citrus drink, and a fresh bottle of “Kaesong” vodka.
“Compliments of the front desk”, the bellman says.
I stand up, tip him a few thousand won, and set a new record in mixology; a fresh brace of drinks in less than 7.3 seconds.
I offer the bellman the lighter one and he accepts with a wide smile.
I say “건배” (geonbae) literally means 'empty glass', which is similar to the expression 'bottom's up'. For you see, my Korean’s coming along a treat.
We clink glasses and send those drinks to the places that they’ll do the best.
The bellman smiles offloads the cart onto the table in my room, shakes my hand, and departs.
I finish my boots, my drink, and my cigar. After another drink or seven, I crater early. Dax was right; it had been a long, weird day.
The next day, Festival! is still going strong, but still no word on the whereabouts of
El Líder Supremo. I find that odd, only slightly interesting, and since it will impact the day’s events zero, I file it away for maybe later use.
I go to the hotel pool around 0530 and there’s no one there. I’m able to get in a good 100 laps, unburdened with either small talk or by yammering kids blocking my lanes. I go early as I don’t wear gloves in the water, obviously. Statistically, there is less chance there will be others, adults and kids included, that would get freaked out by my gnarly left hand. I really don’t feel like recounting the old Russian Rig Accident story again.
After a brisk shower and double shower-scotch back in my room, I dress casually and wander down to the casino and bar level. It’s essentially breakfast time, but with the revelers not giving two hoots to AM vs. PM, it’s surprisingly busy. I find a perch up on Mahogany Ridge and order a classical breakfast cocktail of one liter of beer and 100 milliliters of chilled vodka.
I see Mr. Ho is manning the bar. I ask him to ring the massage parlor down the hall and see if Ms. Nang Bo-Hee is free sometime this morning.
He does and reports that she has an open hour and a half at 0900. Would I like it or any portion of that time?
“I’ll take the lot”, I said. “Tell them I’ll be there spot on 0900.”
“That’s great.”, Mr. Ho says, hanging up the phone, “Doctor Rock, they tell me that with the Festival discount and you taking the full 90 minutes, they can cut you a very special deal.”
“I’ll bet”, I replied, “Like what?”
“Oh, I cannot say for they did not tell me”, he smiled, “They will tell you when you arrive.”
“Marvelous”, I exhaled tiredly. “Another, Mr. Ho; make it a double, if you would please.”
The massage center here is run by a group not employed directly by the hotel. It’s a separate entity altogether. They run specials and have different discount programs that are not only not controlled nor advertised by the hotel, but they’re also not in any way beholden to the hotel, except for rent, I suppose and run it like their own little fiefdom.
Ms. Nang, my preferred masseuse, is a little, tiny Korean lassie about 5 feet tall and probably all of 90 pounds soaking wet. However, she is amazingly well trained and could probably put me in the hospital for a lengthy visit with her wiles and methods of flesh, bone, and muscle manipulation.
She offers a whole suite of different massage genres: Swedish, hot stone, aromatherapy, deep tissue, sport, trigger point, reflexology, shiatsu, Thai, and Rolfing.
Oh, fuck. I know Rolfing. I tried that nonsense back in grad school with an old east Indian lady that could have linebackered for the Minnesota Vikings. That shit fucking
hurt. Today, it’d incapacitate me permanently. That’s a definite no-go.
I decide that it’s going to be the Hot Stone-treatment today. A geological-manipulation inquiry.
At 0900 I’m the only client at the massage ‘store’. It’s early, day two of the festival, and people are either sleeping off the previous night’s festivities or too wobbly to even think of partaking in a massage.
I’ve had several major back surgeries over the years, including one bilateral laminectomy about seven years ago that removed 7.5
kilos of overgrown bone and muscle from my lumbar region, so I’ve been very cautious about soliciting a massage. The masseuse has to know that area is strictly
verboten and will do everything to avoid annoying that particular piece of bodily real-estate.
I’ve walked or limped out of massages before where the practitioner said they understood my reticence, but went ahead and kneaded and provoked that land of keloids and deep-body scar tissue.
However, based on past experience, Ms. Nang knows full well my reluctance as well as my desires. That’s the reason I’m returning. She’s very, very good; a consummate professional and has a never-ending series of jokes and observations while she’s pummeling you into submission.
Today, we retire to a private cubicle and she hands me a small robe or napkin, not sure which, of Korean manufacture.
She tells me to get
au natural and to wear the robe while she prepares the tools of her trade.
OK, I’m not a small person; not by a long shot. This robe, however, is made for a sprite, not even for a small person.
She returns to our massage cubicle as I’m sitting there, at the end of the massage table, sipping my drink clad only in my dapper red-and-white checkered boxers.
“You need to be unclothed, Doctor. Use the robe. OK, sir Rock?” she says.
“Ms. Nang,”, I said, shaking my head, “It’s one or the other.” I show her how laughable the robe is as I can’t even get it over my upper arm. It’s not even as a tea towel when it comes to covering my expansive acres of exposed epidermis.
“I can close door.”, she says, “I’m used to it. I am professional. Does not bother me if it does not bother you.”
I lost all forms of bashfulness, timidity, or prudery long, long ago. After years and years of Russian
banya, Swedish massage, Turkish baths, and surgery; well, if it don’t bother you, it don’t bother me.
“OK”, I say, using the robe as a small two-dimensional breechcloth. She tells me to ‘hop’ up on the massage table and lie down, facing the floor.
After chuckling about the fact that I haven’t hopped for decades, I wander over to the nicely padded and extremely clean massage table and lie down. She rearranges the ‘robe’ to cover my backside and tells me to relax. She’ll be right back with the stones.
I’ve never tried this type of massage before, but as a geologist, I must; if for nothing else, progress in the name of science.
Ms. Nang returns with a large parcel consisting of many sizes of steamed stones. They were river-washed and tumbled basalt from the looks of them, all wrapped in a large fuzzy towel.
Now she finds the large towels…
She selects them one by one and places them in ‘special, strategic’ spots on my exposed back. From the lower 2/3rds of the nape of the neck, down the spine, over the fundus mountains, and down the back of each leg.
It’s a warm, almost hot in some places, but not an uncomfortable feeling. She returns to adjust them, grind them in a bit in places, and flip them to extract all that igneous lithological thermal goodness.
I have to admit, at that point, it was feeling quite delightful. Relaxed; I had my drink and was being kneaded My dorsal musculature was being de-lithified by the application of hot rocks and expert point massage.
All was going quite well as Ms. Nang was building a huge tip in her ‘job well done’ bank.
Then the rocks had all attained room temperature. She excused herself to reload with another minor outcrop’s-worth and told me to flip over for round two of the process.
“In for a dime, in for a dollar”, I said, as I flipped over and use the robe as a laughable forward-facing breechcloth.
Ms. Nang mentioned that she was always fascinated by Westerners and their surplus of bodily fuzz. With my long, shoulder-length silver hair, full Grizzly Adams beard that drooped down to my sternum, and torso that picked up where my beard left off; she was quite unprepared to see the beached silver-gray panda that awaited upon her return.
“Dr. Rock!’, she exclaimed, “You are as a bear! So much hair. And silver color!”
“Yeah, sorry”, I replied, “Just the hand genetics dealt me. I guess it’s an adaptation for ethanol-fueled organisms that never feel cold.”
“I will soon return.” She titters excitedly and almost runs out of the room.
“Hmmm. I wonder what that’s all about?” I muse as I lie largely undraped in the massage cubicle.
Suddenly, the door bursts open and every female massage practitioner there herded into the room. They simply had to see the specimen upon which the delightful Ms. Nang was working.
OK, truth be told, I was a bit taken aback. Here I am lying on an elevated, and heavily padded, massage table. I’m ‘wearing’ only a crooked, worried grin and a sheet of a cotton washcloth that measures about 12x12 inches.
They Oohed! and Ahhhed!
I did feel like some form of an alien animal suddenly thrust out into public view. It was a bit disconcerting, but as usual, I just tried to deflect any unease with jokes and idiot remarks. At my age, not much is going to bother me, and this I found all the more laughable than troubling.
Suddenly, I was fielding their barrage of questions:
“You are American? All American men so…hairy?”
“Yes and no”, I replied. I also mentioned I hadn’t undertaken a study in that particular subject.
“Why you so big?” one tiny lass asked, eyes as big as dinner plates.
“Genetics”. I replied. “Just a corn-fed Baja Canadian doofus. We grow ‘em big back home.”
“Can we touch?” one particularly brave little lass asks.
“Touch what?” I asked. Look, I might be over 6 decades old, but there are still some areas reserved for my one and only betrothed.
I did tell Esme of this whole event later that evening during our nightly call. She laughed herself silly.
“Your beard! Oriental men never have such beard. We touch maybe?” she implored.
I was going to say “Go nuts”, but I decided that a simple “Sure” would be more fitting.
So they did. They were enthralled. They had never before, from what I was told, seen such a large silver-gray ZZ Top-style beard, especially here at the hotel. That part was weird enough, but when they started in on working their way south toward the equator, I had to say something to dissuade them.
“Where were you girls 45 years ago?” I laughed.
I don’t think they got the joke. They became somewhat bolder in their austral exploratory activities.
“OK! Time out! Ms. Nang! We have an appointment to keep”, I said as I shooed the rest of the lassies away, “We need to finish what we started.”
By the time that the third syllable of that last sentence came into being, I knew it wasn’t the right thing to say.
They all laughed and tittered as Ms. Nang ushered them out of the room. I could have sworn I heard the door lock behind them.
Ms. Nang reprieved her earlier stone placement therapy, with a couple of strategic detours.
She wasn’t that type of masseuse, and I wasn’t looking for that type of massage. She did, however, knead and pummel me mercilessly.
I’ve been bruised less from barroom brawls.
Finally, she announces that she’s finished. She’ll leave while I shower, as she used essential aromatic oils, and would await me out in the lobby.
After showering, I felt like a large bowl of pummeled Jello. I felt relaxed, and for the first time in weeks, my back was silent. My head was clear as a spring Sunday morn in Reykjavik.
The full 90 minutes, plus sideshow, was 4,500 won.
I paid the owner the required sum and handed Ms. Nang an additional 15,000 for a job well done. And for another anecdote that goes into the hopper.
I left the massage parlor feeling quite fine, thank you. I wandered over to the bar to see if I could augment and prolong this feeling of harmony with the universe. The mental picture even now of all those cooing Korean lassies in the massage room never fails to elicit a laugh and head shake.
A few hours later, I’m back in my room, tidying up my field notes and making certain all my paperwork was heavily encoded and up to date. It was, so I placed a number of expensive overseas calls to catch up with everyone on the outside.
I’m thinking of calling room service to have my mini-bar repaired when my room phone rings.
“Now who would be calling me at this hour?” I wondered.
It was the tour group leader. He informed me that the itinerary had been worked out and we’d be leaving tomorrow for the field at 0600. We were to arrive with all our luggage and be prepared to check out. We would spend at least a week in the field, if not two, depending on our results, and be bivouacking in different places in the interior of the country.
I thanked him for the information and said I’d inform the rest of the team. He told me that wouldn’t be necessary as they would come up to or floor, deliver the notice verbally, or by note if they were out of their rooms. If I wanted to later call each participant and ensure they were apprised of the situation, that would be most appreciated.
I assured him I would do so and that we’d be ready, to a man, at 0600 the next day.
I whip up 10 Post-it™ notes and stick one on each member’s door.
“Leaving for the field. Check out 0530. Wheels up 0600. Bring all luggage. Road trip!”
To be continued… submitted by Valley View Casino & Hotel and Harrah’s Resort Southern California will both reopen with restrictions Friday. Jamul Casino reopened its doors Thursday, Sycuan reopened Wednesday and Viejas ... Valley View said on its website that it will reopen on Friday, May 22 at 8 a.m. with modifications such as requiring guests to wear face masks. Viejas Casino and Resort announced Saturday that it... Valley View Casino & Hotel in the north part of San Diego County is located near Carlsbad, Oceanside, Escondido, Poway, Temecula - and America's finest city itself! GET IN TOUCH 760.291.5500 Sycuan Casino Resort, near El Cajon, has announced that it will reopen at noon Wednesday, May 20, and Valley View Casino & Hotel, near Valley Center, will reopen at 8 a.m. Friday, May 22. Each ... A letter from Valley View’s General Manager Bruce Howard posted on Valley View’s website and shared on Facebook said that officials planned to reopen the casino, hotel and restaurants at 8 a.m ... The safety of our guests, our team members and our local community is our highest priority. In addition to offering our guests a more spacious, recently expanded and completely remodeled casino, that includes a large non-smoking casino area, a non-smoking boutique hotel and 7 award winning non-smoking restaurants with spacious seating in all of our restaurants, bars and lounges, we have also ... SAN DIEGO — Valley View Casino & Hotel will reopen May 22, it was announced Tuesday. The Valley Center property, which has been closed for eight weeks due to coronavirus concerns, will reopen at 8... The Buffet at Valley View Casino & Hotel, Valley Center: See 241 unbiased reviews of The Buffet at Valley View Casino & Hotel, rated 4.5 of 5 on Tripadvisor and ranked #1 of 17 restaurants in Valley Center. Valley View Casino & Hotel, Valley Center: Hours, Address, Valley View Casino & Hotel Reviews: 4/5 The only two casinos in North Carolina, Harrah’s Cherokee Casino Resort and Harrah’s Cherokee Valley River Casino are currently open. North Dakota casinos. Tribal casinos are generally open in North Dakota, although it is on a case by case basis. Ohio casinos. Ohio casinos remain open, but are subject to a curfew. Oklahoma casinos
