One of my favorite stunts as a returning student was to take the tickets Dad had sent from who else, Kanoo, and turn them into an adventure. Dad, being all wise and knowing that I was a foolish lad, would try his best to make the trip from Texas to Dahahran straight as an arrow. I, would try to get as many stops, where the plane arrived late and the airline had to put me up at their expense at hotels, feed me and then off to see the sights I would go.

My best trip was a record for me and caused some anxiety as I didn't arrive for a week after I was due in Dhahran. Although Mom and Dad had got used to me by now and figured if they hadn't heard of a Foreign Govt. executing a child, I was most like country hopping and would get there eventually. Of course, when I did arrive, the penalty phase would commence.

One trip they had me going to NY then to Amsterdam and then on to Dhahran...boooring...and I already was well known along Prince Albert Strassee, behind the red wall in Amsterdam...the walkway with the windows ? For window shopping....That too is a story of true love found in a gutter, but later perhaps.

So I decided to go the other way, Japan, to India then to Dhahran. Somehow, I managed to screw up and only got a twelve hour layover in Japan, in Kowloon. But, I did go sightseeing and bought a Aqulalung and regulator there to take to Arabia..Plus, what a city..I like to never made it back to the hotel and loved the excitement. Rode a rickshaw for hours with a very delighlightful companion, speaking a common language.

The real trouble started at the the airport next day. Seems as if the only flight to New Dehli was via Pakistani International Airlines...well why not. The was a flight from hell.. We had goats, chickens and bedrolls the size of houses laying over chairs, people in fifty languages yelling and talking, and three hundred heads bobbing every time they said anything. I got dizzy watching them talk.

On top of this, I was sitting in a aisle seat and they put this mountain of a lady, who proved beyond a doubt that she was allergic to water and soap and had to lift the arms of the seats to get her in. I was waiting for the portable crane to help her. She was in the window seat, and there was no middle seat , although there were three across.. Get the picture?

So finally the Captain takes off, I think losing one goat that someone had tied to the nose wheel waiting to load it. Before we are even fully airborne, (I had my doubts we were getting off the ground, and it did seem as if the plane was struggling to get altitude) this crazy woman decides it is hamman time..She gets up and instead of giving me a chance to jump and run to let her out , tries to get over me. Well the plane angled up and I swear to this day I know the meaning of "G" forces.. She sat right down on me, and I, as big a guy as I was, completely disappeared. Talk about a ton of----. Anyway, the Stewardess is yelling at her to get back in her seat and the woman is wailing. I am slowly passing out from being crushed and suffocating and can not move, when the lady reaches the point of no return and suffers an internal accident. Guess who was the portable potty at that point ?

My screams of agony and true horror must have made an impact because they got her off of me. I was ripping off my shirt and trying to get out of my pants, in the middle of bedlam and the Stewardess is trying to find me a blanket and I am using language in seventy different tongues when with a calm voice the pilot says, "Hope you are all enjoying the flight, we will be serving dinner soon". Never in all my life did I want to kill as badly as I did that Captain, although a little later he saved my life again.

We are back to normal, I'm wrapped in a blanket, the Stewardess is cleaning up my shirt and pants and the heifer is asleep. No doubt exhausted from the liberal tongued lashing I gave her and all aboard. So here comes the food cart...

Now on PIA they offer several forms of curry, Western and Pakistani. I, who have a very strong problem with spice and can not even drink V8 juice as it is too spicy, thought, well why not just eat the western stuff. What the hell else can go wrong. I got the plate and took a huge spoonful of curry and started chewing. Within seconds I was on fire, I spewed out the remains on a bald guy in front of me and was screaming for help, trying to  tear out my toungue and actually running it up and down the cloth seat in front of me to get this curry spice off. I had the blanket halfway down my throat and am standing there, in shoes, socks, underwear and a t-shirt screaming for the fire department. I actually ran my tounge on the floor carpet, or so I was told. I have my lips around the Air condition valve above the seat and I'm drinking everything in sight. Including some hot tea, which set me off again...

The Captain comes back and gets ice to put on my tounge and literally froze the damn thing. I had broke into a sweat and tears were running down my face from the intensity of the curry. The stewardess had given me the Pakistani bowl by mistake instead of the western bowl. On top of this, the lady wants to go to the bathroom, caused by massive uncontrollable laughter at my fate, which by now is a sewer of unimaginable mess from all the fouled up food and people on the flight. That did it. I finished the flight in the jump seat behind the Captain who was British.  

I landed in Dhahran, and had no room for irritation left, and I get Dhahran Taxi number 21...How many remember this clown, "you want me take you to RT ????" "NO, Dhahran".."Ohh you like Abqaiq", "NO, Dhahran.. D H A H A R A N".."Oh, Dhahran, OK ,we go"..and straight off and past the main gate and on to the road to RT..

Finally made it home, walked in the house and Mom says, "About time! Your Father wants to speak to you about your wandering and plan on not doing a lot this next two weeks"...OHH, never saw my bag again, it most likely is the talk of some Pakistani Lady who still laughs constantly.

Mike Crocker
Who can not look at a Jalapeno without tears forming....