So I had applied. That was one of the dumbest choices I ever made.
In my conversation with Natasha, I had asked if it was a good idea to work together as we had significant spats in the past and I had no intention of ruining a friendship to work in a place where I had lukewarm feelings towards. I didn’t really want to work in Kabul, but it was winter and I was bored.
“Fuck no. You’re so negative. I don’t think so we are way to reasonable for that and plus now that you have pointed it out we will be careful. We won’t have any fucking time for that it’s fucking busy here. Bah, we always recover from our arguments.Fuck yeah.”
I had no idea how this became a convincing argument, but it did. I knew she was impatient, but she was also considerate and extremely generous. The generous part always got her cleared from her obnoxious ignorant comments and meddling ways. Skinny women are not usually as witty or funny as her and you could rarely be bored as conversation always flowed one million miles per hour. No one understood why a person who read so little could speak so much. I saw her flaws but always chose to forgive them as I thought no one is perfect. We went to the same high school, our parents house where in the same neighborhood, we had been on several holidays together, had gotten wasted, had worked for the same companies, had gotten fired together, I listened to her woes and deception with men and witnessed her father’s last breath. There was a long bread crumb zigzagging back to the center of our bond and hearts, too much history together to simply let our friendship extinguish itself because of our bad tempers..
In our younger days, after graduating from college, Zab encouraged me to apply to an internship (and subsequently first job in the tourism industry( with her airline company. Natasha had not graduated from some random Tourism School (I think she failed a few classes she had to repeat), but skilled and able as she was, she convinced her teachers to complete her internship first and then finish her studies. She never went back to the school and got hired by the airline. She offered me the internship as the airline had picked up some flights and was scrapping for new employees. I was mostly accepted because Beige is an odd name enough for a colored girl and people never new how to react when they found out I was not white. People (on the hiring side) usually liked me because I was funny and intelligent and seemed like the “exception.” They liked me and always offered me work.
We lasted in this company for two years until an escapade gone wrong in hot Mexico, obliged us to reside in the sun temporarily. Boy, did our two months binge drinking felt incredibly right. We then followed each other in a race around the world starting with who would work first on a cruise ship.
First, we tried to drive to Florida but we ran out of gas and money by the time we arrived in New York (we lived in Canadian bordering town) and I’ll admit it I chickened out because as I drove off with my car, my father just like a movie chased us down the road, sped up, turned and blocked our passage with his Malibu. He got out of the car and blasted Zab with an arson of vitriol ” how dare you steal our daughter in your stupid pointless adventures,” and drove off. The shock of seeing my father attempt such a bold move, he who was so reserved and kind; transfixed me all the way back home. Eventually, we found our ways to the ships and although we were never assigned to the same vessel we worked for the same company (again).
Then came another time for change. I got hired to work in Afghanistan and she applied to the same agency, but was sent in Bosnia. Years later, here we are again in the same place where we started our careers as professional international drifters. You could say we may have had the same vagabond ways, but we loved adventure. The only difference is I took some time off to get a degree and stop working in the servant industry, I mean service industry. I really despised customer service work after cruise lines and working with incompetent narrow minded military personnel. These bozos tested my patience to the very last insult or phone hang up. I needed a change and a better career choice so I got educated never to return to my past choices.
Although I had scheduled a flight, actually two flights to Hong Kong the capital of cool and all fashion I sent my resume to Daft For Sure Inc. with a what the heck attitude. “Meh, let’s see if this really happens, it’s not like I never purchase fully refundable airline tickets,” I thought to myself and as always my lack of plan and lust for unexpected events took over.
Three days later after I sent my resume I was scheduled for an interview. I had no idea the chains of captivity would start to wrap itself around my neck, and swallow me whole into a whirlwind of impossibilities to most, but in Kabul are the usual. But at the time I said: “What the heck.”