Driving from Eilat to Ras Mohammed (Sinai) with the first wife.
Okay, we were not married at that time. (At least not in ‘her’ God’s eyes.) We were both working at SFM and had coordinated our R&R schedule so that we could spend that week together. ‘Bliss’ Promised, promise of same…
We arrived in Tel Aviv and immediately went off to rent a car for our ‘camping’ trip. Our itinerary required us to first make the rather long and somewhat treacherous drive to Elait (‘treacherous’ because of the roads) where I hoped to get in a few more dives toward qualifying me as a bona-fide PADI deep-sea-diver. Then we were to head further south all the way to Ras Mohammad, on the southernmost tip of the Sinai, perhaps stopping or staying at Sharm El Sheik along the way. (Sharm back then was all about nothingness, still Israeli-Occupied Egypt and not the tourist trap we find it Today Okay?!)
We had loaded up our tiny rental car with way too much camping stuff, ‘checked out’ from the rec center we had at Sinai Field Mission Base camp. We had a tent, (such as it was), cooking utensils, sleeping bags, lanterns, coolers, and et cetera, ‘et cetera’ mostly being booze, of course) And of course we had schlepped along my boom box, extra batteries, and about five dozen cassette tapes. My life needed musical accompaniment back then. Always.
We left Elait and proceeded south. The road hugged the Gulf of Aqaba. The contrast was stunning. I mean, every once in a while I would stop the car, grab a snorkel and, well, go snorkeling. The colors under the sea were so vibrant, as opposed to the desolation of the desert behind me. Now, do not mistake: I love the Sinai. It is perhaps the most beautiful desert in the world. But. But! The coral reefs in the Gulf of Aqaba! As I did say: color contrast.
We got about half-way to Sharm and Ras Mohammad, and as it was getting late, I decided ‘time to camp’. We parked the car on a very small ‘break-down’ lane and as Janet watched, I schlepped all the ‘gear’ down a ravine, or rather a ‘clif’ to the beach and the camping site I had proclaimed, ‘perfect.”
Set up the camp. Opened a bottle of ‘fine’ Israeli wine. Turned up the boom box. Cooked some chicken bits over a make-shit campfire. Ate. Then… had to shit. (I had been drinking apple juice all day—ran through me—needed to evacuate—embarrassed—
“Uh Janet, I need to leave you here for a min or two…”
“Just do. I’ll be back… soon. Okay?”
So, I grabbed a roll of T-paper and headed off into the darkness, looking for a place to take a righteous shit, diarrhea shit. Found one. Did the deed. Happy and sated. Went back to our camp site. Found Janet laughing her ass off.
“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” I asked.
“Your toilet paper preceded you!” She said.
“Yeah! The wind blew it all over here!”
We made love in the ‘tent.’ and fell asleep. The next early morning, we were awakened by the sounds of someone yelling at us in Hebrew:
I will translate:
“Hey! American! You cannot be here!”
“This is IDF Zone!”
“And? I have diplomatic immunity!”
“We have diplomatic i-mun-it-ty!”
“Wait! I am coming there..”
Will be continued… Here
Vid Credit Here:
“I’ve run my share of grass…”
I wore out Buffet’s “Feeding Frenzy” CD during late night apartment drinking sessions in Tokyo. Had a vending machine with cold Sapporo beer right in the apartment lobby. Handy when the stores closed.
Reblogged this on Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics and commented:
Now… on a lighter note…. “I’ve run my share of grass…”
Yeah – you know I laughed my ass off 😉
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Sometimes I wish I could go back….
This has been my experience.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
Haha always interesting things happen in the M.E
funny times in what was a beautiful place
Ah shit! (hahahaha)
Go with the original!
I wanna hear (read!)
I was all set to comment in another direction, but it occurred to me that shitting on the Middle East is as American as apple pie.
Yes, it is.
It is a shame…
Few things make me sad. The rape of Sinai is one that does, however.
I’m sorry to hear that….
Ras M. was (used to be) a magical place for me. Ruined now.
I see what you mean.
At least I can live vicariously through you.