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Look at more pictures that we took of ourselves

June 29, 2005: The flight from Boston to Zurich (en route to Cairo) was bananas B-A-NAN-A-S. The man seated directly in front of my brother had five whiskeys. Also, there was a young child screaming (at 1:30 AM Raleigh time, 6:30 AM Zurich time), and I quote, “I need underwear! I don’t wear diapers!” He repeated this nougat of wisdom with such frequency and volume that we seriously considered ordering a sixth whiskey for our inebriated acquaintance in hopes it might spur him to action. Instead, my brother and I sat complacent, fantasizing about how to best jettison a screaming three year-old from our A330 aircraft.

July 1, 2005: Our first full day in Cairo was an experience of wondrous proportions. We saw the pyramids at Giza, the Sphinx, and Memphis, the first Egyptian capital. We also visited the site of temples, tombs, and the first pyramid which were all built, over 20 years, in order to prepare for the High Priest to tell the Pharaoh to proceed with this party, the Egyptians started to figure there’s never too much of a good thing and have it more and more often. Finally, they move to capital to Luxor (maybe the beer was cheaper?) and have the party every year. We also bought perfume from a guy who can’t wear cologne anymore because it has given him flashbacks ever since he smoked “something like hashish” three years ago. Bear in mind that we had been introduced not forty minutes ago and he had asked, “You know weed?”... “You know… Mary J?”

July 4, 2005: So, there was this guy, Ramses II (Ramses the “Great”, apparently). He had this ego problem, a little bit. I mean, he was so pissed off that someone had already picked his name that he just stuck some roman numerals behind it and hated on the other one by dubbing himself “The Great” and leaving us to ponder what Ramses I had done to merit disassociation with the most common complimentary suffix granted kings. Ramses the “Second to none” also had a thing with statues. Whenever he saw one he liked, instead of being reasonable and commanding the construction of one twice its size, like other pharaohs would, he would just erase the other guys name and write his over it. Now I’m not much of an ethicist, but it seems to me that there hasn’t been this much blatant plagiarism since “Shakespeare”’s exceptional and suspiciously productive career, or since two of my classmates in eighth-grade handed in their papers on troubadours in Renaissance “Ureupe”. Well, I guess he got what was coming to him in the end, since we saw his preserved skeleton (eerie grin and all, I guess the Underworld’s really something) in the Egyptian Museum of Cairo. But, then again, that’s just what the plaque said, who can know for sure.

Once again, if you would like, you can take a look at the pictures that we took of ourselves