Fools Rush In: A True Story of Love, War, and Redemption by Bill Carter

Author:Bill Carter [Carter, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Schaffner Press, Inc.
Published: 2010-04-06T23:00:00+00:00

Back at the office the day’s events quietly slipped into memory’s mud. There was no time. Right? No time. Only the present and today, while the sun was still up, but now that was already long gone, a distant event. Peace at last. And there, in the main room, sat Vlado, Johnny, Alan, Shibe and his girlfriend Amila, and the Road Trip drivers. Shibe was telling a story.

“I was at the border trying to leave,” he said.

“Where were you going?” asked someone.

“From Algeria to Morocco.”

“I was there once. Bloody forward lot, aren’t they, up in me face about this and that,” said one of the drivers.

“So I got there too late. I had to stay the night. A man in this small village takes me in. Great. I am tired from all this heat and desert shit. I lie down and he brings me a pound of hash. I smoke and then his daughter comes in and we screw all night. It was like an Arabian fantasy.”

A joint landed in my fingers. I toked. “The next day the man sews the hash in a pillow for me as a gift and I drive to the border. So there I am with a pound of hash in my pillow on my way out of Algeria. This is a country that kills people for fucking.”

“Crazy Muslim people,” said Johnny, the drummer.

“Oops.” Graeme was laughing.

“Oh, I see,” said Johnny, exaggerating in jest. “Yes, many Bosnians are Muslims too. So, OK, how about ‘Oh, those crazy Algerians, killing people for fucking?’ ”

“What happened at the border?” I asked, getting back to the story.

“Nothing. I was invisible. I am a surrealist. They didn’t see me coming.”

Someone else spoke, the beginnings of another story, but I don’t remember what it was. I went for a piss break and when I returned I sat next to Tony. He asked, “So how’s the filming going?”

“Tough getting the batteries charged but we’re getting some stuff,” I said.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Don’t know. I have a few friends on the production side. But editing is expensive as hell.”

“Well, I think it’s all shite, but I wish you the best of luck,” he said.

Graeme handed me a warm beer and sat next to us on the sofa.

“So you got it all worked out, have ya?” said Graeme.

“Na, just flying by the seat of my ass as usual … You staying here or coming with?” asked Tony.

“Staying. I’m into the filming thing. Besides, you got Brigitte copiloting so you don’t really need much help.”

“Not that again.”

“Tony,” I said, “she is telling Graeme and me what to do like she’s the boss. I listen to you, but her? No way. What’s that all about?”

“Careful, mate. Soon enough she’ll make the Trip her idea,” said Graeme.

“She’s just trying to help,” said Tony.

“She’s not worth it, mate,” said Graeme.

“Yeah, well, this is the way it is for now,” said Tony.

“Right, mate, whatever you say,” said Graeme, his voice changed from laughing to scornful.

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