Egypt - Mr. Sandman

This character is responsible for one of the most terrifying, but most hysterical moments of my life.

In the summer of 2007, my friend Mary and I decided to take on Cairo, Egypt.

But truth be told, single Westernized women are the number one targets to hustle money from and to treat in a less than respectful manner if unaccompanied by a man .

But we ignored it the best we could and tried to focus on the fact that we were on an epic adventure.

Before we left our hotel for the Pyramids, a place renown for its occupancy of Egyptologists, our manager told us with the strictest of warnings,

"When you reach the pyramids, whatever you do, don't get on a camel."

"Ok," we replied, shook our heads, and slipped out of the hotel toward our cab.

Within minutes of arriving, we rushed toward the ticket booth and were flocked by "guides." Luckily, we bypassed them and pushed ourselves through the pyramid gates. We thought we were in the clear (ha!) because once inside and a blink later, we were resting on camels and trekking off to see the mighty panoramic views of the pyramids. We had been too weak.

Our guide referred to himself as Mr. Sandman... naturally, and wore, what I describe as, "the Onesie," which is similar to a night shirt, but extends all the way down to your feet and, I must admit, looks extremely comfortable.

However, his greatest accessory was...

hands down...

his DEA hat.

Mr. Sandman, all 350 pounds of him, and myself shared Lulu, the camel (lucky me). As we approached our destination, Mary and I proceeded to make like an Egyptian and lined our eyes with black kohl, placed gold bands around our heads, and made... photo history.

After about a half hour, Mr. Sandman reemerged and slyly asked, "Can I take a picture of the two of you?" and as I handed over my precious camera, Mary exclaimed, "Where are the camels?" All I heard was "Click."

Thoughts raced, "Oh my God, I have to somehow grab my camera from Mr. Sandman, make the signal to Mary, and start booking it across this desert... how the hell did I get here?" But those were only thoughts, in reality, Mary and I blindly continued to follow our Mr. Sandman.

He explained how he had no idea where the camels had wandered off to and how our only option was to walk all the way back. Uhh...

I was freaked out, we were too far away from anyone that could potentially help us, we were in the middle of a desert with no map, and alone with a 350 pound man.

But as we approached the bottom of the hill, Mr. Sandman turned around, grinned, and exclaimed with glee and satisfaction,

"Hahahaha, heavy joke, look!" and pointed over to where he had strategically placed the camels underneath the hill so they were not visible from above.

All Mary and I could think was,

"Yes, 350 pounds of Mr. Sandman, was a very, very heavy joke."