I would like to start by saying that, although I have made an effort to do so via Facebook statuses and the like, I am truly humbled and appreciative to all of you who have taken an interest in my writing. Specifically I would like to single out two young ladies who went to such lengths as to share my blog on their Facebook page. I cannot tell you how humbled I was ladies to think that two of my peer group would think enough about the writing to willingly share it with their friends and family. Thank you very much.
I know many are reading with baited breath in order to find out what became of our friend Jiminy, but if I could bother you for a moment I was hoping to explain as to why I have made such a big deal to thank everyone who has supported the blog.
Writing was something that I often struggled with when I was growing up. I often had trouble with writing “correctly” or academically and it wasn’t until University that I was really forced to learn how to write (although it might not always show here in the blog.)
You see as someone who was not comfortable with the idea of having to WRITE to receive marks I, naturally, chose to major in the discipline of History. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with how much writing historians do let’s just say that in my 5 years of university I probably wrote over 15,000 words specifically devoted to attaining the best marks I could. That would be roughly close to 45 pages or 90 pages double spaced, as was often requested.
Comedy has been a lifelong passion and it has been a dream of mine to one day go up on a stage and perform for an audience. I highly doubt that I will ever have the balls to do that as just thinking about it as I type makes me sick to my stomach.
This blog, however, has provided a wonderful outlet to these comedic impulses and it is the combined reason of never seeing myself as a very strong writer and always having the desire to entertain others through the use of comedy that causes me to blush every time someone compliments me on the blog.
In the interest of full disclosure it is intimidating to me to think that I have some type of “audience” now that I am writing to. This is not a problem I dreamed of having after three blog entries. Thank you again supporters and enough about me already because I am getting uncomfortable. On with the show!
*************************************************
I know many are reading with baited breath in order to find out what became of our friend Jiminy, but if I could bother you for a moment I was hoping to explain as to why I have made such a big deal to thank everyone who has supported the blog.
Writing was something that I often struggled with when I was growing up. I often had trouble with writing “correctly” or academically and it wasn’t until University that I was really forced to learn how to write (although it might not always show here in the blog.)
You see as someone who was not comfortable with the idea of having to WRITE to receive marks I, naturally, chose to major in the discipline of History. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with how much writing historians do let’s just say that in my 5 years of university I probably wrote over 15,000 words specifically devoted to attaining the best marks I could. That would be roughly close to 45 pages or 90 pages double spaced, as was often requested.
Comedy has been a lifelong passion and it has been a dream of mine to one day go up on a stage and perform for an audience. I highly doubt that I will ever have the balls to do that as just thinking about it as I type makes me sick to my stomach.
This blog, however, has provided a wonderful outlet to these comedic impulses and it is the combined reason of never seeing myself as a very strong writer and always having the desire to entertain others through the use of comedy that causes me to blush every time someone compliments me on the blog.
In the interest of full disclosure it is intimidating to me to think that I have some type of “audience” now that I am writing to. This is not a problem I dreamed of having after three blog entries. Thank you again supporters and enough about me already because I am getting uncomfortable. On with the show!
*************************************************
*Chirp, Chirp* *Chirp, Chirp* *Chirp, Chirp*
Jiminy the floor cricket was alive and well, albeit now as more of a celebrity among avid readers. Over the last few days, and as I began piecing together the next bits of blog entry in my head, I have been racking my brain trying to find a way to really illustrate just how loud this cricket was in my room. I finally settled somewhere between jet engine and really @#$%ing loud. It wasn’t even just that he was obnoxiously loud as much as it was the intervals in between chirps and the stamina this little gaffer possessed that amazed me the most. I mean sure, a cricket chirping loud enough to make a half-grown man think the thing was taking a jackhammer to his temple is enough to impress a guy, but the impressive part started with his intervals and ended with his stamina.
(Sidenote: Some of you may have caught the “half-grown man” part of that last bit. Let me assure all of you who have never me that I am fully grown at a hulking 5 feet 8 inches tall. I just don’t think “full grown man” fits me very well. I am hardly “full-grown” in the way of maturity, as you may have already guessed, and I certainly do not consider myself a man. Maybe I only speak for myself, but I think most modest guys would say that when they think “full-grown man” they think of the way their father or grandfather used to tower over them when they small. To me you’re not really “fully-grown” until you got a couple of kids and beer belly. Anyways what were we talking about? Oh ya Jiminy’s relation to the Speed Racer...)
One night, or maybe morning, I dunno they all kind of blur together. Anyways one time I was stupid enough to try to count in human seconds how long it was in between Jiminy’s chirps:
*Chirp*
“One, Tw..”
*Chirp*
“One, T...”
*Chirp*
“Jesus this thing is on steroids.”
Occasionally I got to two seconds in between chirps, but never to three. You’ll notice that those were only singular chirps as well, as in one out of the sets of two that you normally see. Those intervals went something like:
*Chirp, Chirp*
“One, Two, Th...”
*Chirp, Chirp*
“One, Two, Thre...”
*Chirp, Chirp*
“Oh ferrr @#$% sakes.”
My apologies for the language, but I hope even if you were offended by my choice of words that you can appreciate the level of frustration that comes with having a cricket with ADD in your apartment bedroom floor.
A cricket with ADD? That doesn’t seem likely. Does he even have the background to make such a diagnosis?
No I never officially diagnosed him and neither my Bachelor of Arts in History nor my Educational Internship status afford me such rights, but trust me this mother-father was ADD. I am self diagnosed ADD and I know an ADD cricket when I hear one. I can just picture him under the floor:
*Chirp*
(Me counting): “One...”
(Jiminy thinking): “Hmm what can we do today... been awhile since I chirped!!!”
*Chirp*
“Dammit Jiminy!”
(I know it goes against comedic rules to laugh at your own jokes, but in the interest of full disclosure I was absolutely DYING after I wrote that... like doubled over my keyboard laughing at the little voice in my head saying, in a Kermit the frog accent for some reason, “been awhile since I chirped!!!”.)
Back and forth he and I went for several days. The only breaks from him were usually during the day. I assumed of course that he was sleeping, for as you recall the only thing that impressed me more about our ADD floor cricket than his speedy intervals was his relentless stamina.
If our little floor cricket had a daytimer I would assume it would look something like this:
Oh god he is giving the thing a daytimer now!? Does this guy ever get to the point in any of his stories? I just wanna know what happens to the cricket. (Yes I am. No, it is a Cantelon thing. Then come along for the ride.)
August 14
Cricket Activities
8 am - 11am: Nap
12pm - 1pm: Lunch
1pm: Call cousin Frank on 2nd floor. (seriously pretty sure level 2 had a cricket in the stairwell)
2pm - 8pm: Nap
9pm - 8am: *CHIRP,CHIRP*
Seriously... this thing would chirp for 12 hours straight. The only evidence I have to support this claim is that he started just after 8 or 9 one night, I went to bed at 10 and he was chirping. I woke up in middle of a night, say 2am, had to pee. Jiminy was still chirping.
(Of course don’t forget he is a ninja so when I went to his side of the floor he stopped cuz he knew I was there. Great Kyle now you have created a ninja floor cricket named after a Disney character and diagnosed him with ADD... and people tell me they want to be in my brain some days. Moving on...)
Woke up at 5:30am (Muslim call to prayer ringing out over the city) and Jiminy was still chirping. Finally I woke up at 9am, the time I intended to rise at, and he had stopped chirping. I initially thought that he passed out and died of exhaustion... apparently not.
If he bothered you so much why didn’t you DO SOMETHING!? An excellent question! You see I did try to investigate the idea of destroying this little pest. Several times I pried open the plastic drain cover and yelled, sprayed the bidet (oh ya! The bidet story) or peered intently into the dark abyss that held my enemy. Each time I felt my attempts to be more and more futile. Jiminy would retain the upper hand for the foreseeable future, but our adventures this day weren’t done there.
WARNING: Really big sidenote coming about the Bidet story I promised awhile ago. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
(Sidenote: I think it was the first entry I promised a story at a later date about the bidets water pressure here. You see it turns out that in our building our water pressure is really hurting. In my one sink that has no functional hot water heater the water just kind of limps lazily out of the tap. If you turn the tap to hot on this tap then the water dries up and it just yells air at you until you turn it back to “cold”, or “room temperature luke warm” as I call it.
In my one sink WITH the functional water heater it coughs and spits until the heater kicks in. My kitchen sink actually works exactly as a kitchen sink should, shocking right!? Then there are the showers.
Having a shower in Oman is like if you took your water hose in Canada and hung it up on the porch, put it on “shower” setting, and then stood underneath it. It doesn’t wash your hair so much as it “waters” it. Of course this wasn’t too much of a worry for me initially because I smartly rocked the buzzcut into this country, assuming it would be cooler in a climate hotter than the devils arshole (believe me I wasn’t far off either).
It was on one of our group trips to the school or the mall when one of the girls mentioned this issue of water pressure and washing their hair. A different girl piped up with a readymade solution:
“Use the bidet.” She said it as if that was the way it was meant to be used all along.
I looked to see if she was being serious, of which I was assured she was, and fell into a small fit of laughter at the audacity of those raised in the Western world being forced to wash their hair via bidet, just so they could experience some water pressure.
For those of you that like the quirky little things about living in a different country, I give to you the hair washing bidet!
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.)
Jiminy the floor cricket was alive and well, albeit now as more of a celebrity among avid readers. Over the last few days, and as I began piecing together the next bits of blog entry in my head, I have been racking my brain trying to find a way to really illustrate just how loud this cricket was in my room. I finally settled somewhere between jet engine and really @#$%ing loud. It wasn’t even just that he was obnoxiously loud as much as it was the intervals in between chirps and the stamina this little gaffer possessed that amazed me the most. I mean sure, a cricket chirping loud enough to make a half-grown man think the thing was taking a jackhammer to his temple is enough to impress a guy, but the impressive part started with his intervals and ended with his stamina.
(Sidenote: Some of you may have caught the “half-grown man” part of that last bit. Let me assure all of you who have never me that I am fully grown at a hulking 5 feet 8 inches tall. I just don’t think “full grown man” fits me very well. I am hardly “full-grown” in the way of maturity, as you may have already guessed, and I certainly do not consider myself a man. Maybe I only speak for myself, but I think most modest guys would say that when they think “full-grown man” they think of the way their father or grandfather used to tower over them when they small. To me you’re not really “fully-grown” until you got a couple of kids and beer belly. Anyways what were we talking about? Oh ya Jiminy’s relation to the Speed Racer...)
One night, or maybe morning, I dunno they all kind of blur together. Anyways one time I was stupid enough to try to count in human seconds how long it was in between Jiminy’s chirps:
*Chirp*
“One, Tw..”
*Chirp*
“One, T...”
*Chirp*
“Jesus this thing is on steroids.”
Occasionally I got to two seconds in between chirps, but never to three. You’ll notice that those were only singular chirps as well, as in one out of the sets of two that you normally see. Those intervals went something like:
*Chirp, Chirp*
“One, Two, Th...”
*Chirp, Chirp*
“One, Two, Thre...”
*Chirp, Chirp*
“Oh ferrr @#$% sakes.”
My apologies for the language, but I hope even if you were offended by my choice of words that you can appreciate the level of frustration that comes with having a cricket with ADD in your apartment bedroom floor.
A cricket with ADD? That doesn’t seem likely. Does he even have the background to make such a diagnosis?
No I never officially diagnosed him and neither my Bachelor of Arts in History nor my Educational Internship status afford me such rights, but trust me this mother-father was ADD. I am self diagnosed ADD and I know an ADD cricket when I hear one. I can just picture him under the floor:
*Chirp*
(Me counting): “One...”
(Jiminy thinking): “Hmm what can we do today... been awhile since I chirped!!!”
*Chirp*
“Dammit Jiminy!”
(I know it goes against comedic rules to laugh at your own jokes, but in the interest of full disclosure I was absolutely DYING after I wrote that... like doubled over my keyboard laughing at the little voice in my head saying, in a Kermit the frog accent for some reason, “been awhile since I chirped!!!”.)
Back and forth he and I went for several days. The only breaks from him were usually during the day. I assumed of course that he was sleeping, for as you recall the only thing that impressed me more about our ADD floor cricket than his speedy intervals was his relentless stamina.
If our little floor cricket had a daytimer I would assume it would look something like this:
Oh god he is giving the thing a daytimer now!? Does this guy ever get to the point in any of his stories? I just wanna know what happens to the cricket. (Yes I am. No, it is a Cantelon thing. Then come along for the ride.)
August 14
Cricket Activities
8 am - 11am: Nap
12pm - 1pm: Lunch
1pm: Call cousin Frank on 2nd floor. (seriously pretty sure level 2 had a cricket in the stairwell)
2pm - 8pm: Nap
9pm - 8am: *CHIRP,CHIRP*
Seriously... this thing would chirp for 12 hours straight. The only evidence I have to support this claim is that he started just after 8 or 9 one night, I went to bed at 10 and he was chirping. I woke up in middle of a night, say 2am, had to pee. Jiminy was still chirping.
(Of course don’t forget he is a ninja so when I went to his side of the floor he stopped cuz he knew I was there. Great Kyle now you have created a ninja floor cricket named after a Disney character and diagnosed him with ADD... and people tell me they want to be in my brain some days. Moving on...)
Woke up at 5:30am (Muslim call to prayer ringing out over the city) and Jiminy was still chirping. Finally I woke up at 9am, the time I intended to rise at, and he had stopped chirping. I initially thought that he passed out and died of exhaustion... apparently not.
If he bothered you so much why didn’t you DO SOMETHING!? An excellent question! You see I did try to investigate the idea of destroying this little pest. Several times I pried open the plastic drain cover and yelled, sprayed the bidet (oh ya! The bidet story) or peered intently into the dark abyss that held my enemy. Each time I felt my attempts to be more and more futile. Jiminy would retain the upper hand for the foreseeable future, but our adventures this day weren’t done there.
WARNING: Really big sidenote coming about the Bidet story I promised awhile ago. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
(Sidenote: I think it was the first entry I promised a story at a later date about the bidets water pressure here. You see it turns out that in our building our water pressure is really hurting. In my one sink that has no functional hot water heater the water just kind of limps lazily out of the tap. If you turn the tap to hot on this tap then the water dries up and it just yells air at you until you turn it back to “cold”, or “room temperature luke warm” as I call it.
In my one sink WITH the functional water heater it coughs and spits until the heater kicks in. My kitchen sink actually works exactly as a kitchen sink should, shocking right!? Then there are the showers.
Having a shower in Oman is like if you took your water hose in Canada and hung it up on the porch, put it on “shower” setting, and then stood underneath it. It doesn’t wash your hair so much as it “waters” it. Of course this wasn’t too much of a worry for me initially because I smartly rocked the buzzcut into this country, assuming it would be cooler in a climate hotter than the devils arshole (believe me I wasn’t far off either).
It was on one of our group trips to the school or the mall when one of the girls mentioned this issue of water pressure and washing their hair. A different girl piped up with a readymade solution:
“Use the bidet.” She said it as if that was the way it was meant to be used all along.
I looked to see if she was being serious, of which I was assured she was, and fell into a small fit of laughter at the audacity of those raised in the Western world being forced to wash their hair via bidet, just so they could experience some water pressure.
For those of you that like the quirky little things about living in a different country, I give to you the hair washing bidet!
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.)
*************************************************
*Knock, Knock,Knock*
*Chirp, Chirp* *Chirp, Chirp* *Chirp, Chirp*
“Shut up,” I said towards Jiminy’s direction as I turned to head out of my room, “I’ll get it.”
It was the night of our first weekend in purgatory and I was surprised at the knock on my door. I had said my goodnights and was surprised that someone was looking for me this late.
As a general rule, for those not with us in Oman, I keep my door open during the time that I am awake. Not just unlocked by the way... OPEN. I only ever close it when I have the intention of going to sleep.
I keep my door open for a few reasons. Mostly I like the idea of having an open door policy in a figurative sense. I tell people often that no topic or subject is offside with me, as long as it is approached correctly. I try to always make an effort to tell others if they need anything or just someone to talk to then they can come to me. In my mind the literally OPEN door shows that I am serious about this.
The first time I came into my apartment I actually left the door open by accident because my hands were full. When I came back to shut it I reflected on all of this and thought, “why not, eh?” (shout out to my buddies back home who get the full extent of that joke. Hat tip to Jay and Dan, formerly of TSN Sportscentre.)
Anyways after I talked to my cricket and rambled on about why the door is usually open I made my way out to the front door of the apartment and turned the key over to unlock it. I figured that there must have been some recent development after I decided to turn in.
I opened the door with some urgency, thinking that I must be needed. Much to my surprise there was a short blonde colleague of mine standing outside the door with a determined look on her face.
As an aside I feel it is important to point out that all of the girls that journeyed over here with us were about my age and mostly easy on the eyes. In general we remarked that we were a pretty good looking group. So here I was with a nice looking female colleague knocking on my door and an aforementioned determined look on her face.
I am not sure if some fellas are more used to pretty girls knocking on their doors than others, but this is not something that regularly happens to me. I don’t get a lot of house calls. I tried to remember what time it was. It didn’t feel overly late, but it was late enough that.... well let’s just say I had all KINDS of scenarios running through my head. (Mostly that she REALLY needed a toothbrush... why, what were YOU thinking? Jeez, come on... we’re not that kind of blog.)
My colleague informed me that there was going to be a meeting upstairs regarding our living conditions and that our educational leader would be present. She asked if I would make my way up there in short order so that I may support the group. (OHHHHHHHH she was here to invite me to a group gathering of frustrated individuals. See I knew she didn’t need a toothbrush..... What!?)
If you recall I wasn’t really as bent out of shape as the rest of the group was about the state of our living conditions, but I decided I would attend said meeting as a show of support for those that were upset.
When I arrived at the meeting the group had already started without me, which was perfectly fine. I found a comfy bit of floor and listened to the frustrations of the group. We went around the room, one by one, and aired our frustrations with the situation and gave the one thing that we felt was the most pressing need. We were seated in a circle and, if this circle were a clock, I was seated at about the 5 o’clock position. We started at the top, naturally, and more than once I made eye contact with my good friend/one night stand roommate (who was seated at about 10 o’clock). Each time we made eye contact he smiled at me, because he knew what my biggest concern was and he knew I wasn’t all that sure I wanted to tell the whole group.
One by one we went around the room until finally I was one person away. From the beginning the debate had raged in my head: do I say anything about the cricket, or do I take one for the team and go with a group answer?
Our top answers for the group, and the ones we would end up carrying into the official meeting that followed, was the cleanliness of the building, function of the stoves and the lack of domestic items in our units.
Eventually I could not procrastinate anymore, my turn had come.
“Err... umm.” I stammered. I was sweating like Shaq at the foul line. My hands were clammy. I didn’t think I could do it. My friend was practically rolling onto his side to keep from laughter.
Why is this such a big deal? Why doesn’t he just tell them “hey I got a cricket in my room... fix it? Well then I ask you kind sir/madam... How does one person tell a room full of his peers, and his educational leader, that his biggest concern is not the layer of dust covering everything, not the lack of a functioning stove to cook the food he has bought, or the fact that he has to wash his only bowl and spoon after every use for sake of losing the function of those as well, but that he has a cricket that is louder than a jet engine and possesses the stamina of Rocky Balboa lodged squarely in his bedroom floor?
“I, umm, I got a cricket... in my floor.” The room broke up into giggles and stifled laughter. My friend could hardly contain himself.
I proceeded to attempt to justify why this was my concern:
“Like I know that some people don’t have beds and none of our stoves work. I know how big of an idiot I sound like... but this thing is LOUD! I have been sleeping with my iPod in every night to try to drown him out.”
My friend at this point must have taken pity on me because even he threw in a word of encouragement.
“I slept in Kyle’s other room the one night and you can easily hear it from in there. I have even heard it standing in my doorway down the hall some nights.”
Thanks for having my back bud. Of course this turned my room into a mini sideshow for the half an hour after the meeting that people came to visit JUST to hear Jiminy roar, but I digress.
My friend really has been a life raft for me. He has “talked me off the ledge” a few times, bought me a couple of beers and had my back with my cricket conundrum. He even taught me what a water heater was... although he might not have known that one.
Anyways to end this chapter of our story our leader decided it would be best to contact the person in charge of these things and get him over to our meeting right away.
The mood was tense for most of the meeting. The person we were dealing with seemed to listen and respect our concerns, but was fairly unapologetic and apathetic to our plight. He promised to do what he could to fix the problems, especially those of the domestic items and stoves. As much as many of us don’t like to admit it he did in fact up hold most of his end of the bargain, although that meeting was over a month ago and some of us are still waiting for the cleaners to show up (okay all of us but some others are more responsible than me and cleaned the apartments themselves.... yes it is kind of gross.)
As for our now ADD ninja floor cricket, well, let’s just say that another day in the beautiful country of Oman ended much the same way it started: me laying on my right side, fuming, ear plug in my right ear, iPod ear bud in the left.
*CHIRP, CHIRP* *CHIRP, CHIRP* *CHIRP, CHIRP*
“This has GOT to stop.” I thought.... although “hoped” might be a more appropriate word.
*Knock, Knock,Knock*
*Chirp, Chirp* *Chirp, Chirp* *Chirp, Chirp*
“Shut up,” I said towards Jiminy’s direction as I turned to head out of my room, “I’ll get it.”
It was the night of our first weekend in purgatory and I was surprised at the knock on my door. I had said my goodnights and was surprised that someone was looking for me this late.
As a general rule, for those not with us in Oman, I keep my door open during the time that I am awake. Not just unlocked by the way... OPEN. I only ever close it when I have the intention of going to sleep.
I keep my door open for a few reasons. Mostly I like the idea of having an open door policy in a figurative sense. I tell people often that no topic or subject is offside with me, as long as it is approached correctly. I try to always make an effort to tell others if they need anything or just someone to talk to then they can come to me. In my mind the literally OPEN door shows that I am serious about this.
The first time I came into my apartment I actually left the door open by accident because my hands were full. When I came back to shut it I reflected on all of this and thought, “why not, eh?” (shout out to my buddies back home who get the full extent of that joke. Hat tip to Jay and Dan, formerly of TSN Sportscentre.)
Anyways after I talked to my cricket and rambled on about why the door is usually open I made my way out to the front door of the apartment and turned the key over to unlock it. I figured that there must have been some recent development after I decided to turn in.
I opened the door with some urgency, thinking that I must be needed. Much to my surprise there was a short blonde colleague of mine standing outside the door with a determined look on her face.
As an aside I feel it is important to point out that all of the girls that journeyed over here with us were about my age and mostly easy on the eyes. In general we remarked that we were a pretty good looking group. So here I was with a nice looking female colleague knocking on my door and an aforementioned determined look on her face.
I am not sure if some fellas are more used to pretty girls knocking on their doors than others, but this is not something that regularly happens to me. I don’t get a lot of house calls. I tried to remember what time it was. It didn’t feel overly late, but it was late enough that.... well let’s just say I had all KINDS of scenarios running through my head. (Mostly that she REALLY needed a toothbrush... why, what were YOU thinking? Jeez, come on... we’re not that kind of blog.)
My colleague informed me that there was going to be a meeting upstairs regarding our living conditions and that our educational leader would be present. She asked if I would make my way up there in short order so that I may support the group. (OHHHHHHHH she was here to invite me to a group gathering of frustrated individuals. See I knew she didn’t need a toothbrush..... What!?)
If you recall I wasn’t really as bent out of shape as the rest of the group was about the state of our living conditions, but I decided I would attend said meeting as a show of support for those that were upset.
When I arrived at the meeting the group had already started without me, which was perfectly fine. I found a comfy bit of floor and listened to the frustrations of the group. We went around the room, one by one, and aired our frustrations with the situation and gave the one thing that we felt was the most pressing need. We were seated in a circle and, if this circle were a clock, I was seated at about the 5 o’clock position. We started at the top, naturally, and more than once I made eye contact with my good friend/one night stand roommate (who was seated at about 10 o’clock). Each time we made eye contact he smiled at me, because he knew what my biggest concern was and he knew I wasn’t all that sure I wanted to tell the whole group.
One by one we went around the room until finally I was one person away. From the beginning the debate had raged in my head: do I say anything about the cricket, or do I take one for the team and go with a group answer?
Our top answers for the group, and the ones we would end up carrying into the official meeting that followed, was the cleanliness of the building, function of the stoves and the lack of domestic items in our units.
Eventually I could not procrastinate anymore, my turn had come.
“Err... umm.” I stammered. I was sweating like Shaq at the foul line. My hands were clammy. I didn’t think I could do it. My friend was practically rolling onto his side to keep from laughter.
Why is this such a big deal? Why doesn’t he just tell them “hey I got a cricket in my room... fix it? Well then I ask you kind sir/madam... How does one person tell a room full of his peers, and his educational leader, that his biggest concern is not the layer of dust covering everything, not the lack of a functioning stove to cook the food he has bought, or the fact that he has to wash his only bowl and spoon after every use for sake of losing the function of those as well, but that he has a cricket that is louder than a jet engine and possesses the stamina of Rocky Balboa lodged squarely in his bedroom floor?
“I, umm, I got a cricket... in my floor.” The room broke up into giggles and stifled laughter. My friend could hardly contain himself.
I proceeded to attempt to justify why this was my concern:
“Like I know that some people don’t have beds and none of our stoves work. I know how big of an idiot I sound like... but this thing is LOUD! I have been sleeping with my iPod in every night to try to drown him out.”
My friend at this point must have taken pity on me because even he threw in a word of encouragement.
“I slept in Kyle’s other room the one night and you can easily hear it from in there. I have even heard it standing in my doorway down the hall some nights.”
Thanks for having my back bud. Of course this turned my room into a mini sideshow for the half an hour after the meeting that people came to visit JUST to hear Jiminy roar, but I digress.
My friend really has been a life raft for me. He has “talked me off the ledge” a few times, bought me a couple of beers and had my back with my cricket conundrum. He even taught me what a water heater was... although he might not have known that one.
Anyways to end this chapter of our story our leader decided it would be best to contact the person in charge of these things and get him over to our meeting right away.
The mood was tense for most of the meeting. The person we were dealing with seemed to listen and respect our concerns, but was fairly unapologetic and apathetic to our plight. He promised to do what he could to fix the problems, especially those of the domestic items and stoves. As much as many of us don’t like to admit it he did in fact up hold most of his end of the bargain, although that meeting was over a month ago and some of us are still waiting for the cleaners to show up (okay all of us but some others are more responsible than me and cleaned the apartments themselves.... yes it is kind of gross.)
As for our now ADD ninja floor cricket, well, let’s just say that another day in the beautiful country of Oman ended much the same way it started: me laying on my right side, fuming, ear plug in my right ear, iPod ear bud in the left.
*CHIRP, CHIRP* *CHIRP, CHIRP* *CHIRP, CHIRP*
“This has GOT to stop.” I thought.... although “hoped” might be a more appropriate word.