The Land of Evil revisited

So I came back from the Land of Evil (and saw that fucking email from the Pocket Ex) and have managed to avoid the mishaps which have occurred on previous trips, a sampling of which can be found below:

1. Knock over tombstones as I drive without a license in an unfamiliar automatic

2. Fored to bribe traffic cops (not for driving without a license, mind you)

3. Commit various acts while in the passenger seat which made road safety not an option (also not what I had to bribe traffic cops for. If it were, I would have had to pay a hell of a lot more, I suspect)

4. Commit several felonies over several state lines

5. Get attached by a SWARM of flying THINGS, thus causing much top-volume Slinky shrieking. and careening off random inconveniently placed lamp posts because Slinky's hoodie was pulled over not only her head but those all-important objects of seeing, her eyes, much to the amusement of everyone at the rest stop.

6. Smoke half a pack of cigarettes as I fight the temptation to partake in the mouthwatering barbecue that I had to help prepare because it was a religious holiday and in very unSlinky-like fashion, I am determined to behave, damnit, even if I means sulking in the corner with my plate of salad without dressing.

Instead, I manage to get away relatively scot-free by contracting what appears to be the throat-and-nose version of the bubonic plague (and not plaque as some people insist on spelling it much to my deep annoyance and amusement). From day one of my trip I was been afflicted with a deeply offensive sort of inability to breathe through more than one side of my nose at any given time, and a throat which felt as though it had been used for drag races for five nights in a row where the cars were outfitted with sandpaper tires. Crap.

I also apparently bring my bad karma with me, because I was prevented from meeting Oddball, a very very old friend from the convent school we used to attend together, first by the fact that I am plague-ridden, then the next day, because she has been afflicted with, in her words "horrendous diarrhea". Ooooh, nasty.

The Land of Evil has apparently declared some sort of jihad on me.

On the plus side, it has given me inspiration for Slinky's short, very own how-to guide for traveling alone in a not-very-safe country.

First, no matter what, look absolutely confident that you are were you are supposed to be. Even if you are utterly lost and wondering why the hell the train station they told you was just ahead seems to be very far away indeed and your boots are beginning to kill you, stomp along as though you are exactly where you want to be. If you have crazy hair, fluff it up a little and wave it around dramatically. Looking confident and crazy is a surefire means to ensure that people stay away from you.

Second, when walking back to place of sanctuary at night, always pick someone to walk with. Preferably another female. Who’s smaller than you. With bi vulnerable Bambi eyes. Yes, in other words, some one who looks like a better victim.

The end of Slinky’s how-to guide.

That being said, no matter how badly that damned place treats me, I'd go back. In a heartbeat.