#oh and to be clear the experience at the airport security with the army guys was just us 3. because we were connecting to another flight.

[bahoreal]

love it when they turn down the lights on long haul flights it really puts into perspective that the stewards are babysitting u and desperate for adult nap time

[ikesenhell]

Inked

This is the Professional Integrity series, part three. For all other parts and additional IkeSen works by me, see here.

Mitsuhide started his day the usual way: cleaning out the abusive comments on her social media. 

she just ditched the house I’m telling you She didn’t even let the fans in the funeral He would have wanted us to be there She hasn’t even released a statement I hear she’s partying it up in china and spending all his money

Click, click, click. They all disappeared. 

“How are you this morning?” Shingen asked with a smile, putting a plate of eggs in front of her. She half-laughed and shook her head. 

“I think I went one drink too hard.”

“Lightweights,” Kenshin huffed. “All of you.”

“Look,” Yuki argued, “We can’t all drink like alcoholics.”

“I don’t drink like an alcoholic.”

Sasuke lifted a piece of toast to his mouth, eating gingerly. “Everyone is being too loud.”

The Princess tittered and pet her friend’s head. “I’m sorry. Let’s be quieter. Thanks for the breakfast, Shingen.”

“No problem. Least I can do for an angel like you.”

“Oh, God.” She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

It looked like Kenshin was prepping a sharp-tongued barb to fling at his friend, but the Princess took his hand and he fell silent. “Thank you, guys. I’m so glad I got to see you all.”

“We’re glad we got to see you, too,” Shingen answered. 

“Yeah, um,” Yuki stumbled through his words before pointing at his dog, “Kuro liked having people over.”

“Oh, sure. ‘Kuro’ did.” Shingen smiled a smug little smile. 

Kenshin finally freed his hand from hers and set it on her shoulder. “Let us know if you’ll be coming back through.”

“I just might.”

They dropped Sasuke off at the Phoenix Airport. He and she hugged, long and hard at the security checkpoint until she cried, and then he had to catch his flight. Mitsuhide put his own, dark sunglasses on her to hide her tears and guided her gently back to the RV.

“Alright.” She settled into the passenger side, looking small and fragile, eyes locked forward and still wearing his circular sunglasses. “Where to next?”

“I don’t know.” He adjusted the seat, shoving it way further back than it had been. “Has anything ‘told’ you yet?”

A moment of pensive silence. She glanced up at him. “Anyone you wanna see?”

“Me?” He took a moment to check his surprise. “Friends of mine, you mean?”

“Yeah? Why not.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “My friends are a handful. Plus, they live in New York.”

“That’s fine. That works for me. I can work with ‘handful’.”

He snickered and delved into his pocket, pulling out his cellphone. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“If they’re anything like you, I’m sure they’ll be great.”

The smile slipped off his lips for one long moment, trying to register what she was saying. At last, he decided not to think too deeply into it and pressed the dial button, gunning the RV powerfully onto the highway.

Hideyoshi picked up on the second ring. “Speak of the Devil.”

“It’s Mitsuhide, not Nobu,” he joked thinly. “What are your plans for this week, or anyone else’s?”

“Uhhhhhhhhh. Why?” There was a trace of suspicion in the man’s voice, and Mitsuhide had to resist the urge to laugh. “Don’t tell me you did something--”

“No, no, I did nothing,” he chuckled. “You remember how I told you I was bodyguarding Mrs. Matthews?”

“Uhh, yeah?”

“Well, she got a feeling for a road trip, and it’s my turn to pick where to go. How are you and the rest feeling having me show up at your houses and drink your liquor?”

“Just like old times, huh?” Hideyoshi laughed. “Okay, um, I’ll text them and see what’s up, but we should all be here this week, and you know that Masa is always game for something.”

“Let me know. I’ve got to get back to driving.”

“You’re driving? Hell, Mitsuhide, don’t drive and talk on the phone--!”

Mitsuhide hung up before the lecture could commence, grinning. “They’re looking forward to it.”

His bed was actually pretty comfortable for what it was. Pull-out couches generally weren’t the most amenable situation, but this was clearly an exception. Wrapped in a comforter, he lay with his feet propped comfortably against the driver’s seat, looking up through the skylight at the picture-perfect midwest stars. 

In the bed above the driver cab, he heard a faint, pained shuffle. 

“No.” She whimpered, then panted. 

“Princess?” Mitsuhide was on his feet in an instant. 

“Stop, stop, stop...” Oh, she was asleep. The sleepy distress was clear to him now. “Stop it.”

“Princess,” he repeated, softer, and reached into the bed, closing his hand around her ankle. She woke with a start. 

“Holy--”

“It’s just me,” he soothed, not releasing her foot. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh.” She shifted, but didn’t move her leg away from him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I thought something was really wrong, and it would have been terribly awkward to figure out how I failed to protect you with about a foot of space between us.”

A titter. He finally released her ankle, trailing his fingertips along her foot until there was no skin left. “Anything I can get for you?”

“No, Mitsuhide,” she answered him softly, his name like a song, “thank you.”

“Any time.” 

She didn’t care much for food either and liked listening to The Eagles, Kendrick Lamar, and jazz. If she had to pick between four elements, she went for air every time, and he could see that in her--she always had the window cracked, the breeze rushing through her hair and sending it in rivers toward the back of the RV. Her favorite animals were snakes and bunnies.

“Yeah?” He grinned at her. “I’ve got a tattoo of a snake.”

“Do you really?” She glanced at him, up and down, returning her gaze to the road. “Where?”

He rolled his sleeve past the bend of his elbow, revealing the head of a serpent lying there on his bicep. “It goes around the arm, over my shoulders, and back down the other.”

“That is so cool,” she gasped. “I love it. It’s so very ‘you’.”

“Not the first person who’s said that.”

“I think I might get a tattoo some day,” she mused aloud. “I’ve bantered it back and forth in my head, but I just haven’t yet. Did it hurt?”

“Mostly over the parts of my spine, but otherwise, tolerably. I found it a good experience at the least.”

She smiled, and all those terrible comments he spent so much time scrubbing from her profiles swung like a black mark back into his mind. For the first time, he was angry. How could anyone try and say those things about her--this lovely, sincere, fun, sad woman? 

“You okay?” She said suddenly, flitting her eyes at him. “You look upset.”

“Me?” He forced a grin onto his lips. “When I’m around you? Never.”

They rolled into New York City later that day. 

“Look who is fucking here!” Masamune thrust open the door with a bang, garnering a shouted hey! from Hideyoshi, and wrapped his arms around both Mitsuhide and the Princess. “Mitsu-fucking-Hide!”

“Hi there!” The Princess laughed, patting his back. “Who are you?”

“The one, the only, Masamune Date.” He shot her a grin. “And you’re Mrs. Matthews?”

“Most people just call me ‘Princess’. Besides, it’s weird to call myself ‘Mrs.’.”

“She’s a widow,” Mitsuhide interjected, slithering inside. 

“Oh. Shit.” Masamune stopped smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s fine. Cancer. Was sort of expected.”

“Come on in!” Hideyoshi emerged in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping his forehead. “Hi! I’m Hideyoshi. Do you like Pizza?”

“Love it.”

“Great, cause Masamune prepped enough of them for an army.”

“Masamune eats like an army,” a blonde, fluffy-haired man groused at the kitchen bar. “He probably needs half of them for himself.”

“That’s Ieyasu,” Hideyoshi gestured. “Mitsunari is on the couch, probably reading still. He won’t hear you come in.”

“I’ll get him.” Masamune jogged into the living room. 

“And I’m Nobunaga.” A final, dark-haired man with carnelian eyes appeared in the hallway, a smooth smirk gracing his mouth. “Mitsuhide. How good of you to come and see me again.”

“I was practically jumping at the chance,” Mitsuhide chuckled. 

Masamune appeared at Nobunaga’s arm, wrapping his around the man’s shoulders, a pair of silvery glasses perched on his nose. The Princess laughed. “He’ll be showing up soon.”

“Have you seen my glasses?” A man with a sweet, confused expression emerged at last behind them, clogging the crowded hallway. “Oh! Who are you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s the Princess, Mitsun.” Masamune tucked the glasses on top of the man’s head. “And you gotta be social.”

“Of course.” He smiled, bright as the sun, and Mitsuhide was almost envious of his charm and kindness. “It’s wonderful to meet you!”

“So what’s the plan tonight?” Hideyoshi asked, clapping his hands together. “Get out of my hallway, all you, get in that living room. You’re being a safety hazard.”

“Yes, mom,” Masamune muttered with a grin. 

“I was thinking,” Mitsuhide stepped into the familiar living room after them, “after dinner we might take her to some of the usual haunts, do a little drinking.”

“Could--” The Princess spoke up for a moment, then faltered. “Maybe, um, is there a place to get a tattoo around here?”

“Tattoos?” Masamune perked visibly. 

“Goddamnit,” Ieyasu groaned from the counter. “You don’t need another.”

“Masamune’s tattoos are great,” Mitsunari chirruped cheerily. “I think you’d look great with some, too, Ieyasu!” 

“Don’t compliment me like that, that’s weird.”

“Stop arguing, you two,” Hideyoshi wielded the pizza-cutter at them both. “I mean, we could do that.”

“I’m intrigued,” Nobunaga started, eyeing her with a smile. “What do you plan on getting?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” she smiled. “It’s great to meet you all, by the way.”

Mitsuhide didn’t smoke much, but Masamune and Nobunaga did, and whenever he was around them, he always wound up with one in his hand. They bounced between bars after dinner, getting drinks and dancing, riding the subway and causing mayhem. 

“You sure you want to do this?” He asked her, loitering outside the tattoo parlor. Smoke curled around his fingertips. 

“Yeah, I think so.” She smiled nervously at him all the same. “Can I have a drag on that?”

“Sure.” He handed it to her, watching the way the glow of embers glowed against her cheeks, how it flickered orange through her eyelashes and the smoke graced the curve of those lips. A cough; he snickered at her and tapped her mouth. “You don’t have much practice smoking.”

“That’s good,” Hideyoshi frowned at him, “Cause they’re bad for you.”

“Ready?” Masamune tucked his cigarette between his teeth and shot her a wink. “My guy is here. He’ll set you up good with something.”

“I’m ready.” But she latched onto Mitsuhide’s wrist, turning her face towards his, and asked--so, so, so prettily and sweetly--”Will you hold my hand or something if it hurts?”

“Sure.” He agreed. “I’d be glad to.” 

“Okay. Don’t take too long with that cigarette!” And she disappeared into the shop. 

Four sets of eyes turned onto Mitsuhide. 

“Well, well, well.” Nobunaga was smirking. 

“Ahhhhhh.” Hideyoshi had that infuriating, all-knowing grin on his lips. 

“Hmm.” Ieyasu eyed him hard. 

“What?” Mitsunari stared between all of them, eyes wide. “What? What?”

“You’re into her.” Masamune’s grin was so wide it threatened to split his head in half. 

“You’re all daft.” Mitsuhide snickered, taking a harder drag on his cigarette than he meant to and winding up choking himself. They erupted into laughter around him. 

“Lost your cool, there? I’m disappointed.” Nobunaga teased. 

“Hardly.” He thumped his chest to clear it. 

“She’s pretty cute.” Masamune leaned in. “When are you gonna jump on that? If you don’t, I might.”

“For god’s sake, Masa, she’s widowed. Recently. I’m fairly certain she needs a breather.”

“That’d be your loss.” Masamune grinned. “Come on, let’s go get her tattoo done.”

She got it on her back, right on the nape of her neck: a sun, the moon resting inside it, a series of chandelier-styled chains hanging from the points. 

“It’s beautiful!” Mitsunari praised easily, turning his head this way and that to look at it. “Wow! How did you think of that?”

“It’s based on a poem I like,” she told him, shyly. 

“Which one?” Hideyoshi asked. 

“Oh, I probably paraphrased it. But it’s: For the Sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe.” 

“Woah.” Masamune nodded. “That’s nice. Told you he was the guy to take you to. It looks cool.”

Mitsuhide realized with a start that she was still holding tight to his hand, as tight as she had been the whole time, as tightly as if he were the only lifeline between her and the rest of the world. He didn’t let go. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded hard. “Just need some air.”

“Well, come on.” He helped her to her feet, steering her past the guys and ignoring Masamune’s muttered git some. “Let’s get you some.”

They stepped out onto the New York City street, the rumble of the subway overhead echoing through the dark street. She shut her eyes hard, her fingers still locked with his. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked, tracing a thin finger on her cheek.

First she nodded, but just as quickly, she shook her head hard, tears spilling to her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh.” Mitsuhide wrapped his arms around her shoulders, cupping the back of her head and resting his chin in her soft hair. “Shh. Why are you crying?”

“It--” Choked sobs escaped her. “It felt on my skin the way it feels inside my chest.”

Oh. And what did he say to that? He smoothed long, fine lines along her cheeks, neck, shoulders, feeling her rock back and forth in her arms. And here she felt like something fragile, something delicate and honorable, something worth fighting and dying for--a ray of something he’d never had in his life. The emotional honesty and vulnerability struck him in the center of a dark, sunken part of his chest, like a diver shining a light into the center of a shipwreck long lost. 

“Was that bad?” He asked softly.

“No.” She shook her head against his chest. “No. It felt really validating.”

“Good.” Mitsuhide wrapped her tighter against him and shut his eyes. He hadn’t wanted another tattoo, or so he thought, but now--now, if he could turn the way she made him feel into a picture and burn it into his heart, he would. “God knows you deserve it.”

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Just like Fire ch. 5

“We gon' drink drink and take shots until we fall out like the roof on fire. Now baby give a booty naked, take off all your clothes, and light the roof on fire. Tell her baby baby baby baby. I'm in fire, I tell her baby baby baby I'm a fireball." - Pitbull (Fireball)

"Happy birthday to me...” Claire muttered to herself in the car as she headed back to headquarters from the airport. 

She had just spent her sixteenth birthday in a island near Polynesia using a tank to crush "the enemies of the state." Then burned their military base to the ground.

She didn't know what exactly they did to become enemies, but it didn't matter. Kurt and the other agents always repeated the same stupid phrase.

"You're a weapon. You don't need to know. Just take your orders and do them!"

"What was that?" Dr. Novak asked from the front seat next to the driver. He was the new head scientist. Kurt replaced Dr. Greene after his experiment didn't bring any new test results. He had only been there for a few weeks, but he was a lot less strict.

"Nothing, just can't believe I'm sixteen." And haven't seen the world in 6 years.

Dr. Novak smiled. She liked it. He reminded her of the Director. Bald, a little less fat and wide smile.

"My daughter is almost sixteen like you, Amber eyes. I wish you could talk, I'm sure you would find some things in common."

"Umm, not exactly allowed." Claire pointed to her shock collar "But I would like that too. I haven't seen anyone my age in forever!"

Dr. Novak gave a small frown, then he started to shift.

"I know I shouldn't let my feelings get in the way but it's such a shame you're living like this...." He looked around as if the limo had security cameras watching them. Then leaned closer "Okay, maybe we can let you go for one day. But you must come back to the Center before 1 okay. I don't want to get into too much trouble."

"But the, the collar?" Claire stammered, feeling giddy. Was she actually going to be let out and free alone? 

Dr. Novak pulled out a Swiss Army knife from his lab coat pocket and cut it off.

"Now go, pretend I couldn’t have stopped you" he instructed. Claire pushed herself out the door and rolled out to the busy sidewalk of Metropolis City.

It was huge! Skyscrapers seemed to be everywhere and shops crowded every corner. It was already 7 in the afternoon but Claire felt like it was 9 in the morning.

She was free!!! Free!

But what do regular people do on their birthdays. They had cake, but she had no money. They had friends and gifts but that was not happening.

So she looked around and followed a crowd of teenagers that looked to be her age to a club, Pulse it said in pink neon.

Her body felt electrified and she couldn't keep from bouncing on her feet. She was normal person, going to a club. She felt if she smiled anymore her face would break.

As she got to the bouncer, he glanced at her. "You don't look 20,” he wrinkled his nose. 

Claire lower her eyes and smiled. Pressing her body against him oh so suggestively.  "But couldn't you let me in. I have a sister waiting inside," she purred, nudging her chest against his. A move that was practically engrained into her body. She had done this many times before on poor foreign enemies of the state before she knocked their head into the roof. The man melted like putty and she glide past. Swinging her hips to the music. The club was hot, flashing strobe lights bounced around the wall and shiny silver dance floor. There were a few couches packed in back of the room and two tropical bars with palm trees near the bathrooms. And cages of hanging from the ceiling with shirtless men and girls in their underwear dancing in time to the drums. Claire stared at the whole place in wonder. And slowly she started to copy the others. Waving her arms in the air, grinding and jumping around. 

But as she started to get tired, she felt bored. She wanted to use her powers. When was the last time she used them for fun? But she couldn't think of any trick that would seem normal without attracting attention that she was a meta human.

As she looked at the people dancing around the tikki torches by the bar, she had an idea....Fire breathing. Take a stick with plastic palm leaves, she ripped them off and blew. A woosh of fire covered the stick and Claire brandished it proudly. 

A few screamed but others started crowing and yelling. She did a few more tricks, twirling sticks in the air, making shapes out of fire discreetly using her powers to help.

Then two gawky guys, both with brown hair came up to her. One black tips said to her, "I.. I'm I know you might not know what I'm talking about. But trust me, it's a compliment from the highest degree of nerdom." He cleared his throat,"You, me world domination?" "Sorry if you don’t get the reference but it’s a paraphrase of this firebender named Azula. It’s from Avatar: Last Airbender," The other guy with glasses explained.  "I loved that show!" Claire cried. She had been banned watching it after she found out about her powers. Her dad thought she would be too influenced. But Claire still remembered fondly. And now apparently these two cute guys her age knew it too. 

"No way someone as hot as you knows that." The black tips cried..

"Well yes. I'm a fire bender all the way. As you can see.." Claire smirked, waving her flaming stick.

“Nah, not me. I'm more air bender," Black tips said, ““All peace, no war.”  "That's cuz he's too scared of fire," Glasses mocked whispered.

"Shut up!" "You are too!" 

"Hey, how did you even do that without draining alchohol?" Black tip asked, changing the conversation to Claire, motioning to her flaming torches.  Normal people need to alchohol to do it? "Uh what makes you think I haven't been drinking?" Claire winked.

The guys smiled.  “I'm Damian" glasses said "And this is my younger bro and room mate, Francis," he motioned to black tips.  "Claire." They spent the rest of the time joking and talking about avatar episodes. Then Francis invited her over for dinner at the apartment and she eagerly accepted. It was almost eleven but she wasn't planning on going back. Sure, Dr. Novak might get in trouble but she her freedom meant more than any scientist. And with such nice guys too. She could stand to hang around them for a little while until she found her own place. 

Plus Francis looked quite cute. Chiseled checks, floppy brown hair, studied something called botany which only seemed to remind her how much school she missed. 

She hadn’t even finish middle and she couldn’t recall what photosynthesis was. She thought it had to do with cameras but they didn't mention anything about it yet.

"Well I'm gonna hit the sack. Good night." He slapped Francis' shoulder, "Make me proud," he whispered.

They spent a little time siting on the couch when Francis turned to her and leaned closer, heading in for a kiss. Claire tried to suppress a cringe as she felt her face flush. Her body started tingling again like all those years ago. Oh god, she was aroused. He was probably aroused too, and he'll want the sex. But then his mouth pressed against hers and all her thoughts flew out. His lips were so soft and warm, she wanted to melt against him. She gripped him closer and held his hair as his tongue pushed further into her mouth.

"This is amazing! How could I think kissing was bad? Wait....did that other guy even kiss me? No, no. This is my first kiss. OMIGOD I'M HAVING MY FIRST KISS!”

Slowly he took off her clothes and she grabbed his pants. His touch was so soft and gentle and warm. She welcomed it. All the muscles she was clenching released and she just let him take the lead. This sex thing was great, and Claire held onto him like howler monkey. 

After the first release, she felt hotter, and heard Francis mutter, "You're boiling." Claire briefly opened her eyes, and saw her her hands, flames sparking up her fingers. She held them out in the air and tried not to touch Francis or act like anything was wrong. 

But her hands wouldn't stop burning, no matter how much she tried to imagine it away. Francis' body blending into hers was so distracting, especially as another wave of pleasure rippled through hers.

She flipped Francis in a way she would be positioned ontop of him and smashed her boobs against his face, suppressing a moan of ecstasy. It was honestly very frustrating. Here she was having the best sex ever and she had to stop it or else he would freak over her burning hands. 

So she pretended to accidentally knock over the lamp, touched the lightbulb and it exploded from the heat.

Francis jumped and Claire sat on her hands, trying to cool herself. "Dude!! I'm happy for you, but seriously!" Damian yelled from another room. 

"Sorry, sorry." Francis flushed, his neck turning white "We should probably stop" he bent over to pick up the pieces.  "Yes, you probably should." a chilling voice added. 

In the doorway stood Kurt and four agents. "Claire," He intoned. Two agents grabbed her, and forced her outside as she heard Kurt talking to Francis.

"Take this pill, you don't need to remember what's gone on here tonight-" amid Francis' questions. Claire's face burned with shame and humiliation. 

How the hell, did they find out?

"How?" Claire whispered when Kurt entered the car with a blanket to cover herself. "Security cameras. Though you were acting like a stripper at the club, not many people have knee length orange hair." He spat at the word club. 

"It was simple to spot you from the rest. We asked questions, found out who you left with. Now you are coming back. First discipline, then you'll have to work through the night to catch up with what you missed." Kurt informed her.

Claire self-consciously gripped her hair. She never thought about how recognizable she looked with it, uncut from years gone by. Once they got to the headquarters, she was disciplined with the routine of water boarding and foam spray until she had passed out. When she came too, she had been redressed in her usual black outfit, a new shock collar and brought to the training room. 

Where Dr. Novak stood, handcuffed and crying.

"First we thought you should get rid of your accomplice." Kurt said. Claire held her breath and hesitantly complied, forming a circle of fire around Dr. Novak, close but not touching him. Claire wanted to apologize to the man. The man with a daughter her age, who had thought she should be out on her birthday and let her have that one day of freedom. 

But Kurt was waiting, nudging her back with the fire extinguisher nozzle. A water board would await her if she didn’t comply.   Claire closed her eyes and let the circle of fire creep closer and closer until the smell of burnt skin and smoke filled the room.

[steveramsdale]

The ‘At Least Two Cups of Coffee Blog’ Blog

The ‘At Least Two Cups of Coffee Blog’ Blog

If you are reading this blog, then, by some miracle of chance, I survived to write and post it. This is entirely implausible but, apparently, true.

A crazy week in a crazy country full of life, history, noise, mess, poverty, beauty and spices.

Get comfortable, make sure you’ve been for that comfort break and steel yourself. This could be a long one. I set out to do something so I’d have blog material and there may be too much. I came to India! It is early on Monday morning now and I realised that if I left this until Saturday morning, there would be no time even if nothing else happens.

We have been excited for a while about coming. We planned with, and are here with our friend and colleague Wendy and her two wonderful children. We flew to Amritsar, a direct, two-hour flight, early on Saturday morning. Another friend, Dave, was also on the flight. The flight was, fortunately, uneventful.

As we approached and descended towards Amritsar airport, I noticed that the cars were driving on the correct (left) side of the road. “That’s good,” I thought. I soon had to reassess that observation. As we landed, one man started a very half-hearted clap but was not joined and stopped after, perhaps, five claps. It was a better landing than that.

The customs/immigration process was really easy. We had organised e-visas so there was little delay. Part of the process was having fingerprint scans. I could not get the fingers of my right hand into a position that the machine could read. The man at the desk decided not to worry about this, saying that we could “do it next time”. This is incorrect in many ways (well, at least two).

But, after a short wait for the suitcases, we were in India. It was very pleasantly warm. Although the car park had many white cars, not a-one was a Chevrolet.

The taxi driver arranged by the people at the hotel, was waiting for us with a sign saying “Tashkent”. As the plane, and everyone on it, had come from Tashkent, this could have been a little imprecise. We went to check if he was our driver and he had a screenshot of the text exchange between Wendy and the hotel. He, very sensibly, had the steering wheel, as God or Darwin (the jury’s out) intended, on the right-hand side of the car. Our suitcase was put on to a roof rack but was not secured in any way. I was sure I would see it fly off the roof at some point. I did not. It did not. The airport is not too far from the city and I soon had to change my “oh, they drive on the left” idea to “oh, they are supposed to drive on the left but many don’t.” This view also evolved over the next few days.

I have, in previous blogs, mentioned the lack of varied bird life in Tashkent, the one sighting of a hawk in the city and the eagles seen in the mountains and fro trains though the desert. Here, I had seen at least ten kites (I think) before we were 15 minutes in to the journey. On Sunday, we saw at least fifty circling and flying down to a river. There are also parrot-like birds and nightjars (I think). Anyway, there is interesting wildlife on hand, including Simon, Alvin and Theodor watching us from a tree.

So far (it’s Monday morning remember), we have used a lot of tuk-tuks. This is a really crazy way to travel. It is also a very cheap way to travel. I had, of course, heard about the roads in India but you do have to see it. I thought Tashkent roads we fairly anarchic but I will have to reassess that idea. Even on straight bits of road, there are bikes and motorbikes coming the wrong way. There are pedestrians doing whatever they need to do and vehicles of all sorts weaving in and out. And then there are junctions. This is governed purely by random chance. Drivers go in whichever direction they need to whenever they decide the odds slightly favour success. We have not yet seen even the smallest of accidents – just near-misses and cars with bumps and dents. There are untold numbers of scooters, mopeds and motorbikes. Very few have only a rider. The most popular so far was carrying five people. We were behind one where a girl of around five or six years of age was sitting with her hands in her pockets, not holding on and casually sorting out her hair, as necessary. She turned to smile at us. I have calculated that the ratio of helmets to people who travel on motorbikes is about 1:10,000. We passed one biker who took off his helmet as he was riding along and placed it in front of him on the tank.

On Saturday, after settling in, we went to the Golden Temple. This is a remarkable and wonderful place. It is clearly sacred to the Sikhs of India and the world. Everyone has to remove their shoes before entering and most kneel and put their foreheads to the marble floor to honour the temple and the sacred book it houses. The temple itself is in the middle of a man-made lake and is reached via a walkway. Many people were either getting into the water or, at least, reaching down and putting water on to their heads or even drinking some. The precinct around the pool is very large. People take selfies in front of the temple and the many signs saying that photography is forbidden in this sacred place. Of course I have a photograph of one such sign. Here, for the first of many occasions, people started to ask to take pictures with us. We stood still, at one point, to observe the whole scene and were immediately swamped by such requests. How do you describe those pictures when you post post them? Time forbids more detail about this experience.

We were all hungry by the time we left the temple and went to the first café/restaurant we found. We, of course, had fabulous curry costing almost nothing. I will not repeat this idea throughout the blog, so you should assume that this does happen repeatedly. Indian food I have had in the UK is (was) probably my favourite as a category, but it is at another level here.

On Sunday, we visited a fort which is now a developing visitor attraction. It was used by an 18th/19th Century warrior/leader of the Punjab and Sikh Kingdom, Maharaja Ranjit Singh. Later, the colonial British used it as barracks and, more recently, the Indian army has used it. Now it is a theme park. The children enjoyed the 7D(!) cinema presentation, camel and segway rides.

In the afternoon, we set off for the nearby border with Pakistan. This involved a taxi ride of about an hour on a variety of road surfaces. We were not sure what to expect but had been told it was worth a visit. Each day, at about 4:30pm, there is a ceremony of lowering the flag(s) and changing the guard. Car and coach parking is extensive and a few thousand people were there/arriving/arrived. Plenty of retail and food opportunities exist also. We were directed to the special line for foreign visitors and were allowed through without our passport, showing our TSB visa cards and clearly foreign faces as proof/ID. After a security check we walked to a part-stadium, part-amphitheatre. A short piece of road leads down to a large gate which marks the border. I don’t really know what I had expected but this was not it. The other surprise, which should not have been a surprise, was that exactly the same scenario was being enacted on the other side – the Pakistan side. The Border Security Force put on a really good show. I’m sure you know that there are real tensions between these two countries. This ritual, however, shows clear cooperation and seems more theatrical than military. There was an M.C. whipping up the crowd. There were men walking around selling chocolate, drinks, crisps and Cornettos. There was (very) loud music. A large group of women and girls were invited to either run towards to border waving flags or to dance enthusiastically. When the actual event started, it was bizarre and fascinating. Different groups, pairs or individual soldiers marched down the road to the gates, which were now open. Apart from two scary looking soldiers in typical army uniform and carrying guns, who marched in a ‘normal’ style, all of the other marched with very exaggerated steps, some almost kicking themselves in the head. At the border, they ‘confronted’ their Pakistani counterparts, raising arms and sticking out their chests. The scary guys stood in front of two similarly scary opposite numbers. A couple of the ‘marchers’ shook hands across the line. Most of the uniforms are very ceremonial with hats that have large plumes.

This whole ‘show’ has clearly been planned and coordinated between the two side. If there are two ‘this’ side, there are two ‘that’ side. The respective flags were lowered together. Eventually, the gates were closed

Shortly before the actual ‘ceremony’, three people arrived with airport-style luggage trollies and actually crossed the border.

This was a bizarre and unmissable event. On the way back to the car, a man stopped me and asked to take a picture of his child with me – he had a baby of about one-year-old. He handed the child to me, whereupon the child began to cry. The father now has a picture of a foreigner holding his distraught child and a talking point for years to come.

On Monday, the dreaded travellers’ tummy hit me. We explored a little in the morning but I had to take to my bed and stay near the toilet. We returned to the Golden Temple in the evening as we had been told it was even more spectacular when lit up at night. It was quite cold and raining by now and I could not face walking around without shoes on, so I stayed in the Shoes House and watch the world go by, feeling sorry for myself and being smiled at by beautiful people. I went back to the hotel by myself and could see the temple from outside the complex. It was beautiful. I haggled my tuk-tuk fare to 150 rupees but when I got back, I only had 136 to my name. This was accepted without apparent annoyance. We’d had an argument with one driver (who was certainly under the influence) who demanded 300 rupees. He would not take what we offered and I eventually left in on the ground and walked away.

Overnight, Mairi joined the sick club. By the morning, I was not feeling as bad, but we had an eight-hour train journey to Delhi to survive. We had booked a ‘first class’ sleeper compartment and so we were able to sleep and rest. The toilets were not so bad. For part of the journey, a young man with a sword was standing outside one of them.

The train was not unlike the Soviet over-night train in Uzbekistan – except there was no samovar. We passed the time and saw some sights, especially as we drew close to Delhi. There are untold numbers of people living out their lives in make-shift huts by the side of the railway lines.

Delhi is much bigger, noisier and more chaotic than Amritsar. I walked in the area outside the hotel early on Wednesday morning and went in to an early-opening café. I had reasonable coffee and a cinnamon roll. I had a 100 rupee note and 2000 note. The bill, coincidently, was 136 rupees. The young man a duty was able, a little unwillingly, to change the large note. With Mairi sleeping off the bug, the rest of our party visited the largest mosque in India. We also visited Connaught Place. This is the up-market part of the city and very clearly part of the British legacy. It also has many familiar brands – the obvious ones such as Starbucks and Pizza Hut. Mairi was feeling a little better in the evening, so we went to Pizza Hut for something familiar and comforting.

Thursday was the big day – The Taj Mahal. We had pre-booked a tour with a driver, guide and all tickets and so on arranged. It was about a three-hour drive mostly on a quiet, three-lane motorway. I slept quite a bit, but when awake thought that it could almost be the M1 through Derbyshire and Yorkshire – except for the part where some kind of monkey ran across the road.

As this is going on and on….I’ll be brief. The Taj Mahal is as beautiful as you might expect, as people say. It was amazing to be there and see a structure most people have seen so many times in pictures. “I typed this at the Taj Mahal” – that’s pasted from my phone notes, as a little gift to you. Part of our tour took us to a ‘no obligation to buy’ marble goods workshop and shop. We saw how the inlays are made and were shown various goods. The pressure part of the ‘no obligation’ was a little uncomfortable. We also saw the Red Fort of Agra, another spectacular construction, this one also used by occupying British forces. This was a long day, but worth it. The final part of the drive back was much longer through the Delhi rush-hour.

We spent Friday on another tour. We paid a really low price to have a driver take us to different sights and to a lovely restaurant. We declined the shopping experience he wanted us to have! There are huge, ancient buildings in Delhi, built by powerful men to show their power and wealth to succeeding generations – and you wonder how things would be different if that wealth had been shared then instead of hoarded and spent on futile vanity projects. Humayun has an amazing tomb, though. The poverty is also still obvious.

I have just scrolled up and seen how long this is, so I’m going to stop soon. This has been a great trip. We have had great company and seen amazing things. Not everything is included – sickness tales, for example. It is early on Saturday morning and we leave today.

Next week? Back to normal? We’ll see.

[evnoweb]

In the Presence of a Hero…and How it Challenged Me as an Educator

This post is dedicated to my new friend, Scott. Thank you, Scott, for challenging me to be a better educator, and more importantly, a better person.

Recently, I had an experience that I can’t stop thinking about. The more I reflect on that afternoon, the more I realize it’s likely an experience that I’ll never forget. Like many other days, I was on the go… running, running, running. Part of my world entails spending countless nights on airplanes, staying in hotels scattered around the country, while flying from place to place. That afternoon was similar to so many that I’ve had.

After rushing back to the San Diego airport, I dropped my rental car off, and hopped on the shuttle bus. The wrong shuttle bus, actually. Being at airports non-stop doesn’t prevent me from making dumb mistakes at them. Just before the driver pulled away, I grabbed my stuff, hopped off and ran to the other shuttle – this time the right one. As we pulled towards the airport, I did what I’ve done hundreds of times; I looked down at my phone, made sure I was checked in, looked at my gate, and figured out how much time I had until I boarded. A few minutes later, our crowded bus full of travelers was dropped off in what seemed to be complete chaos.

I moved through the large crowd and followed signs to Terminal 2. Upon getting there, I looked around and saw all of the airlines, except for the one I was taking – American. Taking an incredible amount of flights each year, I’m completely comfortable in airports, but for a few moments in this one, I felt alone and lost. I looked around and finally asked someone for help. An older gentleman pointed me towards the opposite end and said, “Didn’t you see it? It’s on the other side. You have to go all the way down there.” I thanked him and went on my way, walking quickly back through baggage claim and again through the masses of people towards the other side of the building.

About halfway through the crowd, I noticed a man about my age that I was walking towards. I could tell he seemed a bit lost and appeared to be looking for someone or something. He was holding a cane and was wearing unique glasses. I remember thinking to myself that he was probably trying to locate his bag. I also thought about how challenging that must be if he was alone and was in fact blind like I had assumed.

I kept walking….and eventually, I walked right by him, glancing back down at my phone.

Consumed with my own craziness, all that was on my plate, the calls I had to make, and the work I had to get done, I continued walking towards the security checkpoint. At one point, I turned back to glance at the man that had caught my attention, and noticed that he continued to stand alone. It was clear he felt lost – just as I had a few minutes prior on the other side of the terminal.

…and I started to feel sick to my stomach.

A few hours before, I had been blessed with an opportunity to encourage almost 1,000 educators who give their all for kids every day – at a Southern California opening day. In part of my talk that morning, I was challenging them on building relationships and the responsibility of building the culture in their schools. Just a few hours prior, I was pushing how even the smallest interaction can make someone’s day and be an encouragement; how showing someone you care and that they matter – can be life changing.

…and I started to feel like a complete hypocrite. Here I had just been challenging others to make every interaction count, and there I was walking right past someone in need.

So I humbly listened to that little voice inside my head and being disappointed in myself… I turned around.

I hustled back over to the man who was still standing there, looking around and it reminded me of how I had felt only moments before; only I had been able to see where I was. I walked up to him and simply said, “Hi, my name is Tom. You look like you need some help. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure where I am,” were his first words to me. I asked him which airline he had just flown and if he was trying to get his bag.

“I can’t remember which one it was,” was his response. I started to realize he needed a bit more help then which direction to head or how to find his bag. I looked around and saw an information desk over by one of the exit doors figuring those at the booth may be able to help. I asked this gentlemen his name, to which he said “Scott” and then invited him to put his hand on my shoulder to go figure it out where he needed to go. As we started walking together, I began asking if he had a boarding pass or something so that we could help figure out where he needed to go.

Scott responded, “I think it started with a “U.” I don’t remember….and I came from “up north.”

Over the next few minutes, the older gentleman at the information desk helped us figure out which plane Scott came in on and which carousel his baggage would arrive. The attendant asked, “Scott, was it the United flight from San Francisco?” to which Scott responded, “Oh. Yes, sir. That’s it. Thank you.” The attendant then pointed back to the far end of the building, exactly where I had just asked for my own directions.

Scott turned to me and slowly said, “Thank you for helping me.” Having still felt bad that, like hundreds of others, I had completely walked right by him the first time, I asked if I could help him safely get down to the other end to grab his bag.

As we began to navigate the crowd, Scott paused and turned towards me. “I’m really sorry. I have a hard time knowing where I am sometimes and it’s easy to forget things. It’s not that I’m blind, my brain just doesn’t function right.” he said slowly. I said, “No problem, Scott, let’s get you there safely. Glad to help.”

After glancing at my phone to see how much time I had to get to my own gate, I asked Scott what his bag looked like. He struggled to get the word “camouflage” out. He then said, “It’s a military color.”

Having a dad that served, and having tremendous respect for those that protect our freedoms, I paused and asked, “Scott, are you in the military?”

Scott stopped walking in the middle of the crowded room and pointed to his hat. “Purple heart” was embroidered on it. I had completely missed it, both the first time I walked by him, and during our first few minutes of interaction.

Scott slowly began, “It happened in Mosul. It’s a place in Iraq if you’ve never heard of it. I was Delta force…it’s part of the Army.”

My heart stopped. I started to anticipate where he was going with his story.

He continued, “It was a beautiful day like today, except it was much hotter. Maybe 130 degrees and trust me, that’s really hot. I can still smell the air from that day. My team was helping a family in the city. We were keeping these women and children safe because there were a lot of bad guys in the area.”

I’m not ashamed to admit that it was about that moment that my tears began to stream.

“We thought the bad guys had left. A while later, I went to check if they had and walked out the front door,” and then he paused again.

“That’s when it happened. I got shot.” He turned and pointed to the left side of his head.

“We were trying to help protect them. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t see it coming.” 

As Scott relived a few minutes of a life changing day, the last day of what he always knew, I struggled to fight the tears thinking how only a few minutes prior, I was so self-consumed in all that I had to do and had walked right by this amazing man.

Scott slowly continued, “But it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. The problem is the bullet is still in my brain. It’s right there [he pointed]. The doctors say they can’t move it and can’t take it out and it needs to stay in there. But I’m okay. This is just my new life.”

The floodgates opened. My tears flowed as I stood, talking to someone who a few minutes later I had ignored.

We made our way over to baggage claim, his hand on my shoulder. As we slowly worked our way through the crowd, I asked about his story and where he was from. Scott shared that he grew up in El Paso, Texas. He talked about his family and how he joined the military to help people in need and how he always liked helping other people.

I grabbed his camouflage bag off of the conveyer belt and together we moved to the place where his dad was going to come get him. As we waited, he turned to me and said words that gave me chills, “I don’t understand why you wanted to help. Most people just walk right by.”

My heart sank. Because that HAD BEEN me. I WAS one of the people that walked right by him. I WAS the one who couldn’t make a few moments to help someone, all consumed with everything….me. I WAS the one that was too busy and too consumed with all of my needs to realize that I was in the presence of a hero.

“Hey Scott, it’s not every day that I get to meet an American hero. Can we take a picture so I can remember you and your story? I want to tell my kids about you. I want them to grow up and understand what true sacrifice means and what a hero really looks like…and it looks just like you.” I said.

He nodded and said, “I’d be honored to, Sir.”

As his dad approached, he stuck his hand out and said, “Thanks for being a friend, Tom.”

Feeling like I didn’t even deserve to carry this hero’s luggage, and with tears streaming, I could only get out, “No, thank you, Scott.”

Scott – you are a true hero. Thank you for challenging me to make sure I see other people first, put other people first, and never forget those families, and heros, that sacrifice all that they are and all that they have, for every day, selfish people like me.

If you want to see a humbled man, look at the person in the photo on the left. If you want to see an American hero, look at the man on the right.

It was truly an honor to be in Scott’s presence and have the privilege of carrying his bags while helping him safely get to where he needed to be. It was an honor that I will never forget.

As educators head back to open a new school year, we can never forget that every interaction matters. As kids walk by us in the hallway, how do we react? Are we looking at our phone, or looking into their hearts? When we see that child in need, or the one that appears to be lost, or the one that looks like they have the heavy heart, do we keep walking, like I will humbly say, I did that day? Or, do we pause our own world for a few moments to help lift someone else’s higher?

Every day is an opportunity to have an amazing impact on those around you. Even a chance interaction can be life changing… just as Scott was for me that afternoon.

All for the kids we serve, Phil 4:13

In the Presence of a Hero…and How it Challenged Me as an Educator published first on https://medium.com/@DigitalDLCourse