martes, julio 25, 2006
[ 1240. Missing in Action ]
Ok, let me steer the attention 180 degrees away from ffloosh to something else.
Imagine with me: you are blindfolded, and led around in an unfamiliar territory. No one tells you anything, nor explain to you the significance of the event that's supposed to take place. You walk on, and on, hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you, and talk endlessly with him or her, to relax and make the best out of the uneasiness of the situation. You hear footsteps, laughter and the next thing you know, the 'weatherman' is here and you feel powdery stuff being littered on you. Cold water then descend on you, first in sprinkles, with increasing volume each time.
And that's only the appetizer.
"Cross your arms in front of your chest. Keep your knees straight. Now fall back." And into a soggy mattress you go, instantly wetting your entire back, butt and all. To everyone's relief that's only water, or so it seemed by the smell of it. But what came next was worse, if not as bad. Chewing on something that was supposedly raisin, it reeked of wasabi, tasted nothing like wasabi, and felt like some styrofoam bearings that came out of a torn beanbag. Followed by leopard crawling through a mud-ridden canvas sheet, suddenly it seemed so much more enjoyable when one is in long four back in bmt.
And no, that's still not the end yet.
You are being led across alternating grass patches and brickways, totally unaware of where you're heading and what you're going. Though not manhandled, the dirt, grime and more importantly, the lack of sight brings out all the fear in you. At a top of a slope, you are told to sit down on what seemed like yet another piece of canvas. Being pushed to lie down on the slope, and having your legs crossed, and down you slide. Recall, when was the last time you actually played on a slide of any sort? It was childhood replay-time, ending in a nightmare of a mudpile right at the bottom. Ouch. Soft and creamy, it almost felt like you landed into a pool of chocolate mousse. Of course, there are none of the chocolatey smell at all. Across another long path you take, and you are told, this is the finale. You sit down where they tell you to, and you stick your legs over the ledge, into the surprisingly warm water. And you walk through it, with nothing to guide you except one thin nylon rope above your head which you're to hold on to at all times.
And that conclude my last night. Thank you.
On a lighter note, some kind soul returned me my documents by post today. Even though i lost my wallet and money, but i guess it's good to count my blessings. =))
Shannon left at 11:56 p. m..
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