My friend T lives in Minneapolis and so I was really worried when I heard about the bridge that collapsed there on Wednesday. We’ve been friends since we were six and she’s one of the ‘experts’ I called during my contacts crisis (July 12 post.) Her mum was our music teacher in Primary school and we sat next to each other all through Secondary school.
We’ve been the same height for years. She constantly disputes that fact, imagining herself to be the taller one (ha!) but the truth is we’ve been the same height for years, experiencing vertical growth at pretty much the same rate.
Together we suffered the torture of wearing thick glasses while growing up, consoling ourselves with the ‘fact’ that ‘short-sighted people have been found to possess above-average intelligence.’ I don’t know how true that is, nor can I remember where we read that research finding, but consoled we were.
She got contacts first and I envied her liberation from glasses. Then she got LASIK surgery to correct her sight but I will stick to my contacts thank you very much. (It appears my contacts are also determined to stick to me, as evidenced by their clingy behaviour on July 12.)
Back to the main gist, these past couple of days I’ve called T’s cellphone nearly thirty times but it kept going straight to voicemail and her phone at home rang endlessly.
I left her a message, no response. Sent her an email, no reply. I became frantic and tried calling her parents here to find out how she was. Couldn’t get through.
So I decided to go to her parents’ house during my lunch break on Friday, since they live near my office. But I couldn’t: it rained on the island and traffic is bad when it rains and all that. Actually that’s not why. It did rain but I think I was sort of afraid of what I would hear and preferred to hear it over the phone than face to face.
So this morning I tried calling her parents again. No show so I tried T. Cellphone went to voicemail and her landline at home rang and rang - until her father picked up. I was a bit confused because I wasn’t expecting anyone to answer, least of all her father who, as far as I knew, was right here in Lagos with me.
Anyways, to cut a long story short, turns out T and her hubby are chillin’ in Cancun Mexico, celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary while I’m here developing an ulcer over her whereabouts.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Fill the Form, Dammit!
In my July 27 post I wrote about the series of smaller events which made up my Dramatic Experience in Brazil. This is the first:
(1) I wrote an essay and got picked to attend an Earthwatch expedition
My essay was about environmental aesthetics; about trees and fields and greenery in an urban landscape. I wrote about water and waste and the hazardous mix of the two in some parts of the country. I don’t recall writing anything about birds or animals.
So I was really surprised when I read the Earthwatch invitation letter and found that we were going to spend two weeks researching wildlife in the Pantanal. I enjoy watching animal documentaries from the safety of my bed but have never been keen on getting too close. But after some thought I figured why not? Something new.
The lady at the Earthwatch office in London nagged me endlessly about filling out the health insurance form. There were loads of forms to fill and I was sure I had filled them all. No, she insisted, you haven’t sent me the health insurance form. Please fill it, sign it, and fax it. I agreed to but forgot to.
She called me again. “I won’t let you get on the plane without that form being faxed to me first.”
How was I supposed to figure out which one was the health insurance form? I grumbled to myself. (Grumble a lot, especially on Wednesdays.)
All the forms looked alike; lots of questions and small print and boxes for comments, how was I supposed to dig through it all, it was such a waste of time, what the hell did she need the form for, aargh I hate this, which one is the health insur - actually it was quite easy to figure out which form it was because it had ‘HEALTH INSURANCE FORM’ printed clearly at the top. But I grumbled anyway. It’s very therapeutic. So is cursing and swearing, though I understand that ladies aren’t meant to swear. Why not? Who created that rule? I’ll effing swear if I want.
Where was I? Aha, the form. I filled it, signed it and faxed it the day before I left. A week later as I was being wheeled into emergency surgery I thanked God - and the lady at the Earthwatch office in London - that I finally filled out the form.
(1) I wrote an essay and got picked to attend an Earthwatch expedition
My essay was about environmental aesthetics; about trees and fields and greenery in an urban landscape. I wrote about water and waste and the hazardous mix of the two in some parts of the country. I don’t recall writing anything about birds or animals.
So I was really surprised when I read the Earthwatch invitation letter and found that we were going to spend two weeks researching wildlife in the Pantanal. I enjoy watching animal documentaries from the safety of my bed but have never been keen on getting too close. But after some thought I figured why not? Something new.
The lady at the Earthwatch office in London nagged me endlessly about filling out the health insurance form. There were loads of forms to fill and I was sure I had filled them all. No, she insisted, you haven’t sent me the health insurance form. Please fill it, sign it, and fax it. I agreed to but forgot to.
She called me again. “I won’t let you get on the plane without that form being faxed to me first.”
How was I supposed to figure out which one was the health insurance form? I grumbled to myself. (Grumble a lot, especially on Wednesdays.)
All the forms looked alike; lots of questions and small print and boxes for comments, how was I supposed to dig through it all, it was such a waste of time, what the hell did she need the form for, aargh I hate this, which one is the health insur - actually it was quite easy to figure out which form it was because it had ‘HEALTH INSURANCE FORM’ printed clearly at the top. But I grumbled anyway. It’s very therapeutic. So is cursing and swearing, though I understand that ladies aren’t meant to swear. Why not? Who created that rule? I’ll effing swear if I want.
Where was I? Aha, the form. I filled it, signed it and faxed it the day before I left. A week later as I was being wheeled into emergency surgery I thanked God - and the lady at the Earthwatch office in London - that I finally filled out the form.
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