is for Egypt
My strongest memory of Egypt will always be linked to sheer, raw terror. The scariest experience of my life happened there when I visited as a 20-year-old college student.
No. Mummies didn’t chase me from the tombs.
And I wasn’t cursed in a pyramid.
And NO. A Nile crocodile didn’t chase me in my felucca.
Stop trying to guess already. You’ll never figure it out until you read the next sentence.
I crossed a street.
Yes, like the chicken did.
I don’t need to watch scary movies. I’ve experienced all of them in that one single act of crossing that street in Cairo.
Streets in Egypt (at least 20 years ago) were terrifying. Lanes on the road meant nothing to any of the thousands of cars driving like maniacs. The rules in Egypt for drivers seemed to amount to only this:
- Go as fast as possible
- Squish in whatever space you can find (even if a pedestrian takes up part of that space)
- Honk your horn (because it’s there)
My friends and I were on one side of the road and wanted to get to a museum on the other side of the road. The road happened to have 6 lanes. Now a six lane road in America is a daunting task, but cars follow rules, stay in lanes, and there are crosswalks.
In Egypt, cars followed only the 3 rules above, so there ended up being 20 lanes going every which way in those 6 lanes, and horns made me deaf. So without hearing, I had to go with my sense of sight alone. And my eyes told me this:
There is NO way you can cross that road.
And so I whimpered and told my friends we couldn’t go to the museum because we couldn’t get across the road. Unfortunately for me, my friends weren’t cowards—they were chickens (and chickens like to cross roads, as we all know from the jokes).
Obviously, I did…because I’m writing this letter E post. But I am still scarred for life from that one time across an Egyptian road of madness.