Turkey in August
At some point in my life, likely a moment of great weakness or intoxication, I decided to become a good GSB citizen by contributing back to the school. Even though memories of torturing our 2nd year trip leaders on the Alaska Random Walk were still fresh in my mind (who thought tattooing a “Can’t touch this” sign on the back of a freshly shaved head could be so much fun and yet so difficult to remove), I decided to volunteer to lead a trip to Turkey. In typical self-denial I thought that things would be different; I mean, what are the chances that the first year group would repeat our folly and misspell “can’t”? I’d have never guessed a misplaced apostrophe and the letter “u” could cause so much ill will.
In the above pictures East meets West (yes, I spelled “meets” correctly). The land on the left hand side sits on the Asian continent while the fortifications on the right are part of Europe. Mind blowing, I know, but hey, you wouldn’t expect anything less from this blog.
As some of you have doubted my claims of being the world’s premier jet setting billionaire genius playboy, I present you with proof: my very own Boeing 737-800. Eat your heart out John Travolta – with all of your “success” you only have a weak ass 727. Booya!
Even with the aforementioned playboy lifestyle, I have not forgotten the plight of the common man. Unlike the grandiose ceiling in my (one bedroom) mansion, from what I understand the “common man” cannot afford building materials. Instead, he digs deep underground creating a “city” with very low ceilings. I could’ve gotten that all mixed up but I really wasn’t listening to our tour guide in Cappadocia. So here you have it: a picture of me in either some poor sucker’s house or a millennium old underground city. As the saying goes: potato, tomato.
Score:
Mike: 17 – Don’t act all surprised – that plane is money!
JT: 0 – If I were you I’d be shamed landing that POS when I’m in town
Turkey: 1 – For having me grace your shores, although technically we weren’t anywhere near a shore but seeing open water counts in my book so you should at least be grateful for that if not for the diversity that my crew and I brought to your fictitious land. Is fictitious the word I’m thinking of? No, I think I was going more for historic, yeah that sounds better. Your historic land. Booya!