“Why not?” I said, and opened the door, holding it for her.
But she stepped backwards. “Oh, I’m not goin’ in yet. I’ve a fair few errands to do before I hit the sheets tonight.” She grinned and pointed at a heavily shuttered cafe across the street. “Meet ye at nine sharp, yeah?”
“Sure thing,” I said, and watched her stride off into the swirling snow.
Fate & Faith…
8:30 am, March 15
Inverness, Scotland
A few brief thoughts on having faith in human nature while traveling:
Just because someone buys you a drink in a bar does not mean his intentions are noble.
Have the strength of character to just walk away. If a situation feels bad, it probably is. Follow your gut instinct!
If you do find yourself backed into a corner, girl power can save you. I speak from experience——having faith in our sisters has saved many a woman trapped on the bench seat of a bar by a gnome.
And to finish, a public service announcement for anyone planning to come to this beautiful old city:
Do not accept cranberry juice offered by an odd little man with a penchant for Asian ladies’ feet. Do not then go on and drink two of these drinks, no matter how good they taste.
You will thank me.
- ES
Comments: 1
HiHoKitty, Sapporo, Japan:
Emma, your remark about feet shows ignorance of vast differences in Asian cultures. Book club members expect better.
My room in the hostel was warm and snug, and had a bonus kettle, though no biscuits to be found. I’d slept like a cranberry-vodka-saturated log, and rose to find the day painfully sunshiny, with no traces of the tiny flakes that had blown so viciously through the gaps in my coat the night before. My knee was swollen to the size of a baseball, and my head felt even worse. Since I’d posted already, cruising on the house Wi-Fi, I left the laptop locked in my room and headed down the stairs with just my pack over my shoulder.
I made it over to the coffee shop, and was sitting in a corner when Susan walked in. The effects of Rabbie’s pink drinks were far less desirable in the cold hard light of a Scottish morning, and it is possible I may have had to rest my head on the table once or twice. By contrast, Susan had a spring in her step and such a twinkle in her eye that I dropped my head into my hands.
“Oi—feelin a bi’ rough, are yeh?” she said. I nodded and sipped my coffee.
“Well, we can’t have tha now, can we? I’ll jes’ have yer cup, here, shall I?” She slid my coffee out from between my protesting hands and poured a dollop of something into it from a flask she whipped out of her coat pocket.
“Ohhhh—I don’t think so,” I whispered. Even the sound of my own words echoed painfully around in my head. “I’ve taken some aspirin. I’ll be better soon.”
“Nonsense. Drink that right up. Is it hot enough?”
She peered at the steam coming off the cup with one of her over-bright eyes, and pronounced it just right. “Go on. Drink it. We haven’t all day for you to be scuppered now, do we?”
She pushed the cup back into my hands. The steam wafted up and fogged my glasses. I hadn’t even the strength of character to get my contacts into my eyes that morning.
“Aren’t you going to have something?” I asked, weakly, stalling.
The coffee shop smelled sickeningly of porridge and fresh scones. “At least let me buy you a cup of tea,” I said, as she slapped a local map down on the table.
“Nah, I wouldn’t think of it,” she said, but when the girl came by to wipe down the table, she agreed to a hot drink, and then jumped up to have a look behind the counter.
Moments later, she returned to the table with two bacon rolls and a large cup of coffee. She stared sternly at my still-full cup. “Get that inside yeh. We’ve a day to plan.”
I nodded obediently and took a sip. Whatever she’d done to the coffee made it taste like road tar. With insects in it.
Susan heaved an exasperated sigh and stood up. “Let me just give yeh a hand …” she began, and before I knew what was happening, she had my nose pinched between two fingers. When I opened my mouth to gasp out a protest, she poured half of the steaming cup down my throat. The other half splattered onto my lap and across the table.
I have experienced my share of pain in my lifetime, but having my entire insides seared by a steaming cauldron of bug-tar was like nothing I’d ever known. My eyeballs immediately flooded with tears of shock and pain and my tongue felt like it had been cooked right inside my mouth.
“Right,” she said. “Now a glass of tap water and you’ll be fit for anything.”
I staggered over to the counter, and apparently the expression on my face was enough, because the old lady who passed for the Scottish equivalent of a barista slid a full water glass across the counter to me without a word.