Josh on Choosing the Proper Camel

***Later that Day in Outside of Cairo, Egypt (True story)

So there it is...  around noon.  My crew and I step out of the bus that drove us to the base of mount Sinai.  Now came the decision that would affect us for the rest of our lives.  A good decision would make for a life altering event.  A bad decision would also make for a life altering event.  I wish I could say I made a good decision but my hand was forced by fate to make the only decision available to me.  The bad one.

The time had come for each one of us to pick the camel that was to carry us to the top of Mount Sinai.  As I watched my friends led by professional camel handlers to the camel of their choice I was enspired and comforted.  I've not had the best experience with saddled animals. I'm kind of a big deal. Literally. 6”2' of sheer glory with about 290 – 300 pounds of Hey How Ya...

Last time I was on a saddled animal was just days before this.  The horse I rode was chased by a trained dog to get the horse through the tour as fast as puppily possible. and boy was he quick AND I didn't see any of the Giza Pyramids sat that time since I was too busy screaming like a girl.

So I'm comforted to know that 1) there are no dogs and 2) I can pick a camel with a saddle big enough to fit the cargo (my butt).

As I watch the last of the team fit their cargo to their camel's saddle I walked up to my professional camel handler.  Our conversation went something like this:

Handler:  “Hello.  Time to get camel.”

Me:  “Ok.”

Handler:  “Camel pick you.  You don't pick camel.  It's camel's choice.  (Even as I try and remember the way the guy talked I can only picture him speaking Chinese so if the way I depict my interaction with the PCH (Professional Camel Handler) seems like it was with a Chinese guy, that's why...  But he was Egyptian.)

Me:  “How will I know when camel pick me”

Handler:  …  he just laughed...  He didn't say anything he just laughed.

The team leader I was with yelled out from his comfortable spot on his camel and said that I would know when the camel would “pick me” because he would allow me to get close enough to saddle up.

So off I went to find my camel.  Naturally I strayed to the largest camels and was turned away.  They scoffed at me and spit at me. Literally, it spit. It was thick and orange and had the consistency of grits.  Grits like grandmamma made.

It should be stated that I have never known any of my grandmother’s to make grits nor have I ever known anyone else’s grandmother to make a fore mentioned grits.  I do however know of the grits you can order at “Cracker Barrel” not that I ever ordered previously mentioned grits from the Cracker Barrel breakfast menu since they have some EPIC biscuits and gravy and though I know you can order breakfast for lunch and dinner I would consider it absurd to order the following breakfast items for dinner UNLESS there was no other choice.

Oatmeal

Grits

Pancakes

Breakfast Tacos

Eggs (apart from a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit… homemade of course.  Bacon and cheese can be consumed separately and are not found on the above mentioned list)

So I literally went through the remaining handful of camels and none of them wanted to carry me...  Obviously they were pros and they knew what it meant to carry a big guy. Suddenly I see him... Wide eyed... Happy... Innocent...  Pure... Smiling...  A little black camel...  It was as if fate herself brought us together.  As I gazed into his eyes and he in mine it was as if you could hear the soundtrack of a romantic movie this world has yet to see.  Our bond was strong and this little guy had 2 things the other camels didn't have.  Ignorance and Inexperience.  Though trying to get my “cargo” into this little guys saddle was like trying to squeeze an apple into a water hose, I sat proud.  And my camel, though smaller than the others, stood tall.  and seemingly afraid.  He tried to back out twice by kneeling back to the ground but I wasn't having any of that. He made a commitment and like all Allah fearing camel's this one knew he stood before the wrath of his maker.  So, on we went. 

Now the little guy had heart.  He did not give up and we made it to the top of Mount Sinai.  Oddly enough, halfway up was Base Camp.  (This would have been an easy hike on foot by the way).  So at base camp what do I see???  Coca-Cola and Snickers bars.  And where was my money?  In my hand of course as I paid for the snickers. That's right folks. I had a snickers bar and a coke the same place Moses met the God of creation.

What was my reaction?  I like to think it was similar to Moses’ reaction when he encountered the very Glory of God.  We both fell down and worshiped God for all good things including Chocolate nougat and Caramelized carbonated sugar water.

So back on the camel and up the hill we go... up the hill...  Finally we make it to the ruins where we will set up our sleeping bags in this freezing altitude. 

At this point in our relationship, the camel and I were glad to break our fellowship.  The sorrow is equal to that of the sorrow one feels when leaving prison.  And if you equate said sorrow to a number, then that number equals 0.  0 being the least amount of sorrow one person can feel in any given situation concerning camels.  It takes about 5 minutes for what I call the docking process to complete.  This is where my camel had to find a flat piece of ground in which to dock with.  My little buddy gets down on his front 2 knees and then the back and it then laying on the ground in exhaustion, so it’s like a roller coaster right before it takes that big drop but without all the fun that comes with a roller coaster.

You could almost hear the little guys relief as I dismount.  He is no longer under the “oppression of the man.”  This is the point in the journey where, if the other camels had hands, vocal chords and proper air support to form speech, they would have pointed and laughed.

Later that night at the local watering hole, the camels would share the story of the day’s events.  One camel would say…  “Did you hear what the Newbie?”  and the watering hole tender would say “No I sure didn’t…  Tell me.”  On and on hilarity would ensue all at my steeds expense. 

This would drive him to have abandonment and acceptance issues for many years after the fact and these issues would drive him to the bottle and isolation.

Ok.  So I pay the amount previously agreed upon to my handler for the use of my trusty steed and start to walk away.

My PCH approached me at this point and the conversation went something like this.

And again... forgive me for the Chinese Egyptian dialoged

PCH:  “You pay double!!!”

Me:  “Excuse me?”

PCH:  “You pay double.”

Me:  “Why would I pay double”

PCH:  “Because your camel is tired.  Can’t work NO MO.  He did double work.”

Me:  “What do you mean he did double work?”

PCH:  “Your camel twice as small.  YOU twice as big.  You pay twice as much.”

There was no arguing with the man.  His calculations and theory was solid.  We settled for 60 pounds.  I was happy to pay the price.  The little guy did, after all, lead me to food and drink of the likes that I had not previously brought with me, and honestly, how many people do you know that went all the way to Egypt, rode on the shoulders of some poor victimized camel to the top of Mount Sinai (the same place where Moses met God) and had a Snicker’s bar and a coke?  That’s right… Just one.  Me!

In conclusion, the old Egyptian saying goes…  If you lead an American up a mountain in the middle of nowhere and before him you place creature comforts such as chocolate peanut nougat and soda you will earn a profit.

And that's how you choose your camel.