Kelsey Timmerman

Mar
10

Free Money update…

By Kelsey

Wow! This week’s #ten4tues has been amazing.

Who knew that offering free money would introduce me to so many worthy causes supported by new friends and old? This is definitely something I’ll replicate in the future.

The tough part was choosing who to give the money to. Here were my top selections:

1)Kristi Scott is going to Trujillo, Peru to work at an orphanage. She writes that “the orphanage houses about 40 Peruvian children from various backgrounds including abuse, neglect, and extreme poverty.”

My thoughts: I spent a week at an orphanage in Guatemala and the experience has never left me. Giving to Kristi is a two-birds-with-one-stone kind of thing. It exposes orphans to a talented and passionate young woman. And it exposes a talented and passionate young woman to an experience that will likely shape the rest of her life.

2) Michelle wants me to give her $10 bucks so she can take it to the Fallston Animal Rescue Movement. Michelle writes, “They rescue dogs that have to be put down at other shelters because they need to be nursed back to health or need some behavioral training. The dogs stay with foster families until they are well, and then they are adopted out. There are 15 people involved (not counting the foster families), and they are all volunteers. Their main cost is vet bills; last year’s total was $80,000.”

My thoughts: I was raised by dogs. Sort of. And while I call myself a dog lover, I don’t really do enough to support less fortunate ones. I follow @aplacetobark on Twitter and that’s about it. Giving ten bucks to Michelle would allow her to support a cause that should be more important to me. Also, it’s my understanding that the family that runs the shelter makes up gaps in funding out of their own pocket. That’s passion that deserves support.

3. Virginia, a superhero librarian, wrote, “ $10 will purchase two books to give to high school ninth graders who may have never owned a book before–the program, started by our Friends of the Library group is popular with the kids, many who haven’t come to the library before–but soon realize we are here to help–we have free materials they can borrow–and there are computers!”

My thoughts: Where would I be without books and without libraries. I’ve written about this before. I’ve had the pleasure of visiting multiple libraries around the country since my book came out, and I’m a huge fan. The experience has completely changed the way I see librarians. They are lovers of knowledge and a great resource, but they are also quasi-social workers at the front lines of fighting poverty through education and literacy (including computer literacy).

4. James is going back to Liberia where he’ll assist at a medical clinic and more importantly return as a reinvigorated supporter of the Liberan people’s recovery from a decade long civil war.

My thoughts: James is a great guy that I’ve gotten to know over the last year. He gives to the Muncie community in so many important ways. A few hours ago, we were at lunch discussing our upcoming trips to Africa and I could hear how important this trip was to James.

All of these projects are worthy of my $10. I hope that someone will step forward after reading the above and give to them. If you do, please report back. Unfortunately I can barely afford to give $10 to one group per week. I believe someone once said, “I only regret that I have but one $10 bill to give …”

That said, I chose James for the following reasons: his Facebook post inspired the “Free Money” idea and I could take a photo of him with my $10.

I hope to support the other individuals in upcoming Tuesdays and shine more light on the great work they are doing.

Giving Back, ten4tues

Mar
9

Free Money! I want to give you $10

By Kelsey

Seriously.

Tell me why you need $10 and if I think you’re worthy, I’ll send it to you. Why? Because it’s Tuesday and every Tuesday this year I’m giving $10 to a worthy cause as part of my #ten4tues project.

Maybe you have a charity that you want to pass the $10 onto. Maybe you want to take your grandma for a cheeseburger. Maybe you’re saving for a trip to Africa. Maybe you’re my wife and think I shouldn’t just give money to some random person. Whatever the reason, let me know via email kelsey@kelseytimmerman.com, in this comment thread, on Facebook, or on Twitter (@kelseytimmerman).

It’s all about the Alexanders, Baby…

Giving Back, ten4tues

Mar
8

Meet iPhone Girl

By Kelsey

Do consumers care about the people making our stuff?

Yes.

Don’t believe me; meet iPhone girl…

In 2008 a British man fired up his new iPhone and discovered photos of a worker at the Chinese factory where his phone was made. He posted the photos on macrumors and in a matter of weeks the ensuing comment thread had nearly 700 comments and people all over the world were asking, “Who is iPhone Girl?”

iPhone girl became a sensation. Her smiling face was on cNET , on MSNBC, and in the Washington Post.

They tracked iPhone girl to a factory in Shenzhen where a company spokesperson called the incident a “beautiful mistake.” And it was for Apple. They had been blasted in the press for the conditions in which the iPhones were made and here was a pretty, happy worker in a neat and clean factory.

iPhone girl was reportedly stalked by paparazzi and eventually the South China Morning Post reported, “She’s just a young girl who has come to the city from her remote hometown. She’s never been in such a situation. She’s really scared by the media. She told me she wanted to quit her job and go back home to get away from this. We let her off work today so she could rest.”

iPhone Girl just wanted to make iPhones in peace. I’m not sure if I believe that. You have to take what you read in Chinese newspapers with a healthy grain of salt. But something beautiful did happen.

When we are reminded that actual people make the stuff we buy and that these people have slightly crooked smiles and slightly crooked caps and that they are bursting with personality and somewhere they have a family. We connect with them.

iPhone girl reminds us that we give a darn and that there is an iPad Girl, a GAP jeans Girl, a Stapler Girl, and so on.

I think all of our things should come with photos of the people who made them and perhaps a little story about their life.

An iPhone captured this young worker’s smile. And her smile captured our hearts. It was a beautiful mistake, indeed.

Engaged Consumer

Mar
5

Africa calls

By Kelsey

“You can leave Africa, but Africa won’t leave you.”

That’s what the high-powered executive told me after I mentioned my upcoming trip to Kenya. He spent three years in Africa teaching English when he was in his early twenties. He never said what it was about Africa that makes it not leave you, but I expect he might not know.

That was on Wednesday night.

Today I saw a friend’s Facebook post that Africa was calling him to return, Liberia specifically.

I’ve visited sunny beaches and shantytowns around the world and, I must admit, it’s the beaches that tend to call for my return. (Oh Na Pali coast of Kauai, how I long for you!) Sure, I’ll never forget the dump I visited in Cambodia, but I have no desire to return.

While in Bangladesh, Bibi Russell — fashion model/designer/UN Envoy/living saint — told me that “Beauty lies in Poverty,” forever changing the way I saw the world and leading to this paragraph in Where Am I Wearing:

The world we come from seems to be less real in comparison to Bangladesh . A child’s laugh when surrounded by our modern luxuries isn’t as beautiful as Arifa’s daughter’s on a sultry day where hunger wakes her before the heat. A mother’s smile while chopping veggies on the floor seems more genuine than an American mother’s while dishing out mac ’n cheese onto an Elmo plate. Nothing—a smile, a laugh, not even a single pair of underwear—is taken for granted.

Beaches can be beautiful, but so can people. Is this what calls for the executive and my friend to return?

I’ll be spending much of my time in the slums of Kibera. Here’s a video to give you an idea what it’s like.

There are flying toilets! This video hits you hard enough without the smell, and from the looks of things the smell must really be something. Does this look like a place that you would want to visit once, let alone return to again and again?

When I leave Africa, will Africa NOT leave me?

I’ll find out in 50 days.

—

If you’re interested in joining the cause and getting your name in the credits in a documentary about Kibera visit www.heldhostagebyapathy.com.

Travel, Uncategorized

Mar
2

Chile Earthquate: The #ten4tues Project

By Kelsey

Okay, since I started #ten4tues we’ve had more than enough earthquakes. I think we’ve more than met our quota for the year, so let’s stop having them.

That said, this week I’m supporting the relief efforts in Chile by donating $10 to the World Vision Project. I hope you’ll join me.

I know that some folks are hesitant to donate to faith-based groups and I understand and respect that. Missionaries haven’t always had the best reputation through the years. At their worst they are culture-killers that offer a message along the lines of “our God provides us with food. Worship Him and you won’t go hungry.” At their best, which is where I believe so many have evolved to today, they serve their fellow man. They don’t reach out with an agenda. They reach out with compassion.

When it comes to any NGO, faith-based or not, there are few that can touch the reach of World Vision. In a recent column Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times put the size of the group in perspective:

World Vision now has 40,000 staff members in nearly 100 countries. That’s more staff members than CARE, Save the Children and the worldwide operations of the United States Agency for International Development — combined.

I’ve seen them on the ground in Cambodia doing great work and I’m sure they’ll be doing the same in Chile.

Giving Back, Uncategorized, ten4tues

Mar
1

The safest place in Hawaii during a tsunami

By Kelsey

I spent the better part of my Saturday hoping that Hawaii (and everywhere else in/on the Pacific) didn’t get blasted by a tsunami. Eric Harr — CARE representative, IronMan, journalist, and Twitter-fiend — posted a video of his view from the relative safety of the Four Seasons in Kona.

This got me thinking about the time I hiked on Mauna Loa. There’s no chance of a tsunami getting you up there, but the lava, the boredom and the lack of water might.

I dusted off an old column about the hike…

Life, Death, and Lava
(I wrote this in 2002. It was one of the first pieces I ever tried to publish. I think I got paid $15 from some long-forgotten website for it.)

I scream. Silence.

That’s how it is on Mauna Loa, one of earth’s most active volcanoes – no one can hear you scream.

A fly lands on my arm. I am lonely so I talk to her. No response. I imagine that she is relieved to have found another living thing. She flies away. Surrounded by death, again I am alone.

Mauna Loa is the most massive feature on the face of the earth. From nearly 40,000-feet beneath the Pacific, Mauna Loa, Hawaiian for Long Mountain, rises 13,000-feet above water. The weight of the mountain depresses the sea floor three miles.

It takes two days to hike the 18-miles to the Summit cabin.

The beginning of the trail is a worn, dirt path that winds its way through scrawny trees surrounded by small pathetic ground cover. Volcanic rock, rounded from weathering, hints at the power beneath. With each step there is a little more black and a little less green, a little more death and a little less life.

The sun has dropped into the ocean and a cool mist begins to fall. Hypothermia is not something I thought I’d have to worry about in Hawaii, but I’m becoming a little concerned.

I enter the Red Hill cabin shivering and climb into my sleeping bag, trying not to think about the emptiness outside and of that within.

My knees protest as I come to my feet. This second day of hiking is becoming monotonous. The summits of mountains, and the climbs to them, often provide us with sweeping views and broad vistas, but this is not the case here on “Long Mountain.” It is so big that when on it, all that can be seen is “It.”

Mindlessly, I follow the rock cairns marking the trail, a walking machine trudging along up the enormous shield volcano. I curse the crumbling-under-foot, sharp-edged lava known as ‘a`a. It causes my ankles to roll and threatens to cut me if I fall. I much prefer the smooth rolling pahoehoe.

My existence on Mauna Loa is reduced to gibberish: when I find a stretch of Pahoehoe – “Yoohoo!” and when I am forced to cross a patch of ‘a`a, “Uh-oh.”

SPAM is a staple food in Hawaii and, for some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to subsist solely off various flavors of the canned meat during my hike. There was chicken SPAM for breakfast and Ham SPAM for lunch. I couldn’t tell the difference.

When I reach the Summit cabin, my legs heavy from the altitude, I can’t help but dread another meal of SPAM.

It’s a Mauna Loa mountain miracle when I find a MRE left behind for emergencies. Is this an emergency? Heck, yeah! I eat the MRE and leave behind the SPAM, a food that I believe has no purpose other than emergency sustenance.

With my stomach full and my morale high, I walk to the edge of the caldera where I sit dangling my feet over the edge. I kick loose a lava rock that falls 150-feet to the caldera floor where it shatters like glass.

I count the number of places on the floor from which steam rises. I reach nine when a wall of white mist rolls through the caldera. Mauna Loa has erupted 33 times since 1843, most recently in 1984, and to watch the white mist block out my view is somewhat unnerving; even if it’s only a cloud.

Lava, tectonic plates, and hot spots, are forces that have been at work for billions of years. I sit pondering my twenty-two and what logic led me to walk up this god-forsaken hill.

Hawaii is one of the world’s most magical places with its steep-sided, lushly vegetated cliffs, and valleys carved by streams ending in magnificent waterfalls. Hawaii is paradise – at least most of it is – and here I sit, staring at lava, sick of lava.

Mauna Loa, along with Mauna Kea, and currently erupting Kilauea, formed/are forming the Big Island. First erupting at the sea floor one-million years ago, it took Mauna Loa 500,000 years to break the ocean’s surface. Eventually through erosion, atmospheric seed dispersal, and displaced birds carried by the wind to the middle of the Pacific Ocean, the island, like its’ sisters, was turned into a tropical paradise. Without the lava nothing would exist. It is a testament to the persistence of nature that a force that initially yields death, and from where I sit appears to have nothing to do with the living, ultimately births life.

In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I sit alone watching the sun creep towards the black barren horizon, a fly on the arm of Mauna Loa, pondering life, death, and lava.

Travel

Feb
26

Should I have my appendix removed before I travel?

By Kelsey

Pending my release from being held hostage, I’m only a few months from Africa. Now is the time to start thinking about vaccinations and pre-trip doctor visits. That said, I thought I would dust off a piece from my travel column days and a photo of my brother with Malaria in France after our trip to Honduras. Good times.

An Appendectomy to Go, Please

I’m not hardcore I have an appendix.

Legitimate children of Adventure prepare for their travels and expeditions for months if not years. They look into every possible problem and how to prevent it. The worthless appendix is like a time bomb to these neurotic adventurers, lying in wait to go off at the most inopportune times. In the body, the appendix represents an X factor that can destroy years of planning, but in a glass jar soaking in formaldehyde at their bedside, it is a testament to the lengths they’re willing to go to avoid failure. Illness is not an option, but an appendectomy is.

My appendix sits useless at the bend of my large intestine filled with bubble gum and jaw breakers swallowed from a sugar-coated childhood. To insure healthy travels I am not willing to undergo surgery, but an upcoming trip requires that I visit a doctor.

“Hello, I’m here for a physical”

“Do you have insurance?” I hand her my card. “I’ve never heard of that company before, sorry.”

“I’ll just pay it myself. It’s a physical how much can it cost?”

“Hmm…A self pay physical?” Apparently I am entering uncharted waters. She leaves the room and comes back with a large white binder. She thumbs through the pages with long sighs of annoyance. “That’ll be $275.92. You must pay now.” Her voice is filled with sharp-edged victory.

I hesitate, and then pull out my checkbook. I turn my gaze towards the examination rooms and my thoughts linger. What a wonderful world must exist behind that door. I almost here the soft chamber music, I long for the pre-exam massage, my palate anticipates sweet wines and bubbling champagnes, my back foresees the heavenly support of the Tempur-Pedic examination table, and my skin rises to goose bumps with the thought of silk examination gloves.

“Uh-hmm…excuse me sir. You can make the check out to Ben Dover M.D.”

What am I doing? I’m about to place the decimal on the check when the three digits to the left, once written down, return me to my senses. “Isn’t that price a bit expensive? What is it without the holistic healing benefits of the day spa?”

She looks at me with a fair amount of disdain. I close my checkbook and run for the door, “No thanks.”

Hours later I am sitting in a waiting room watching Montel on a TV older than me. The plastic chair creeks with each movement and occasionally grabs flesh in one of its larger cracks. The room smells like a drunken bum who has doused his body in rubbing alcohol in an attempt to cool his bright red burning skin.

It’s a short wait, and after a few pokes, prods, deep breaths, and coughs, I am written a clean bill of health without so much as a cherry sucker.

“Ok, the price of the exam is $40.00 minus the $15.00 coupon…your total is $25.00.”

I smile, pay, and begin converting my savings of $250.92 into massages, bottles of wine, and cherry suckers.

Although it may be the last way you want to spend the money stashed away for your travels, a visit to a physician for a physical is not a bad idea. It gives you a little one-on-one time with a medical professional who can address any health concerns or problems that you may have.

Before you go research required and recommended vaccinations for the destination(s) you will be visiting, at The Center for Disease Control and Prevention’s website. Discuss these with your physician and lay out a plan for immunization. Some vaccination series may take up to two months to complete so make sure that you plan accordingly.

The possibility of illness and disease when traveling must be kept in perspective. If the CDC had its way the perfect traveler would be covered head to toe to protect against malaria, dengue, filarsis, leishmaniasis, onchocerciasis, and trypanosomiasis. He would never taste the authentic delicacies of street side vendors in order to avoid cholera and typhoid fever, he would never dip a toe in freshwater no matter how perfect the swimming hole for fear of schistosomiasis, he would walk around with a wide-brimmed hat and large dark sunglasses to prevent skin cancer, and he would never play with monkeys in order to avoid rabies and the plague. Add a mask to prevent the inhalation of airborne illnesses, and the perfect traveler is…Michael Jackson (minus the whole not petting monkeys thing).

Get the necessary vaccinations to protect against scary multi-syllabic diseases, but whatever you do, don’t walk away from the doctor’s office with the completely untreatable disease of paranoia. It is bound to take away from the genuine experience of travel.

And if you’re hardcore, or looking to become hardcore, broach the subject of your appendix tactfully with your physician. “Yeah, Doc I want to have my appendix removed.”

He’ll push and prod with latex or silk gloves, depending on your wealth, “Does that hurt? How about this? It looks fine to me. Why do you want it removed?”

“The truth is, Doc, I wanna be hardcore.”

Travel

Feb
24

Held Hostage

By Kelsey

I’ve always wanted to be held hostage.

Not because of the messy bits – being blindfolded, asking permission to use the restroom, the failed escape, the proof of life, or even the Stockholm syndrome – but because of Barbara Walters.

If you’re held hostage and are released, you are pretty much guaranteed an interview by Ms. Walters. I’m not talking the View here. I’m talking 20/20 where the sharpness of Ms. Walter’s questions are inversely proportional to the softness of the lighting. The lighting would make me look 12 again, well, other than I wouldn’t have big ol’ buckteeth and a head a few sizes too big for my scrawny torso.

You suffer the bad bits and then “cheese” you’re on Barbara Walters promoting your book that follows your life from a young balsa wood plane hobbyist to your doomed expedition in search of the perfect Ochroma pyramidale tree. The first 7/8ths of the book are crap. You know it. Barb knows it. The American people know it. No one really cares about your daddy issues and that kids made fun of your pinstriped blue jeans in 3rd grade. But that last 1/8th is gold. Who knew that you could carve a full size balsa hang glider with a sharpened spork and fly to safety?

I watch Ms. Walter’s do these interviews with former hostages and think, “That could have been me; I travel with a spork.”

I’m currently being held hostage by Apathy, which is an entirely different thing. It’s almost the exact opposite from my ideal hostage situation really. Being Apathy’s hostage is quite comfortable. Apathy let’s me live my life and we kind of have this “don’t ask, don’t tell” rule between us.

However, lately I’ve been angering Apathy. I’ve become more involved with issues in my community, traveled around the world to meet the people who made my clothes, and, in general, just started to give a darn about a lot more things.

Apathy wants me to return to the PlayStation, college days, during which I would kill an entire weekend playing Madden or Final Fantasy or doing absolutely nothing but eating when I wanted to eat, doing what I wanted to be doing, and sleeping when I wanted to sleep. So, when I told Apathy that I would be going to Kenya to raise awareness about life in the slums of Kibera – Africa’s second largest urban slum – Apathy duct-taped me to my La-Z-Boy.

I told Apathy that I have really hairy arms and would much prefer to be tied to the recliner, but Apathy wouldn’t listen. That’s how much our relationship has eroded. Out came the duct tape.

If enough people show their support of my efforts, Apathy will be forced to release me. There are a number of ways you can do this:

1) You can donate to the cause – your donation will go to Life In Abundance and help support their work in Africa. (I’m donating $10 today as a part of my #ten4tues project)
2) You can decide my fate in Kenya
3) Join Life in Abundance on Facebook
4) Follow #apathyhostage on twitter

In a sense we all are held hostage by apathy and always will be. There will always be wrongs and injustices that we won’t bother to acknowledge. We know they exist, but get too wrapped up in our daily lives to address. Yes, we can only do so much, but we should do something.

I’m going to Kenya with Life in Abundance, Rule29, and McDonald Photography.

Although I most likely won’t be sharing tales of a harrowing escape with Barbara Walters upon my return, I’ll see the world differently, and that’s all the reward I need.

I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

Giving Back, ten4tues

Feb
16

A year of giving: Team Morgan “the hitchhiker”

By Kelsey

Sometimes in life you just stick out your thumb and see what adventures will find you.

That’s kind of the approach I’m taking to my year of giving $10 to a cause every Tuesday. I thought I would have to spend more time looking for causes to support. So far the causes have found me. I’ve supported groups helping in Haiti following the earthquake, and a homeless shelter in my hometown after my sister-in-law emailed me about a walk she was doing. This week is a bit different still.

I follow Matt Gross, the New York Times’ Frugal Traveler, on Twitter. Last week he posted this:

frugaltraveler Founder of hitchhiking site Digihitch.com gravely ill, needs help.

I read the story of Morgan and his tumor he named Buster.

My wife works at a cancer clinic and (I just asked her) she hasn’t heard of anyone naming his or her tumor. That speaks volumes about Morgan. So does the blog he started and that his family has taken over.

Morgan is a husband and a hitchhiker.

Me too. I think that’s why I feel Morgan’s story so much.

I know that he’s stood beside the road alone in the rain, thinking that no one would ever pick him up. Each ride was one click closer to where he is today. And today, he’s anything but alone.

Since I missed #ten4tues last week, I’ll be donating $20 to my fellow hitchhiker, Morgan, today. I’d be honored if you joined me.

Details of how to donate to Team Morgan are here.

ten4tues

Feb
15

Happy Valentines?: Gemstones lead to deaths in India

By Kelsey

At least now I have a good excuse for not buying Annie jewelry this year for Valentine’s day. If you’re appalled by this practice, sign the National Labor Committee’s petition.

Watching this video reminded me of an experience I had in Nepal. I wrote a column about it years back. I dusted it off for your reading pleasure.

The Kathmandu Caper
By Kelsey Timmerman

On the streets of Kathmandu- Motorcycles weave in and out, cars honk their horns repeatedly jockeying for position, pedestrians scurry for their lives frogger-style while covering their nose and mouth from the dirt and stench. Tractors lacking gas caps slosh fuel this way and that, cows and dogs dine side by side on piles of trash. Chaos reigns supreme, but none lose their cool.

Amid the ruckus I stood with my glowing blonde hair, a foot taller than anyone else. In all the commotion, wide-eyed, I sought the security of my guidebook.

A man approached. He was tall for an Indian, had perfectly combed black-blue hair, and a sparkle in his eye. I half expected him to break into song and dance, get the girl, or shoot someone, in the spirit of the popular Bollywood blockbusters produced in nearby India.

“Do you need some help?” His English was better than mine.

“Err…where is the Austrian Air office?” I needed to change a plane ticket.

“Follow me. I consider myself, somewhat an ambassador of the city.” As we walked he was constant chatter. My inner voice was every bit as chatty, This guy wants something. You are like that deer in the Far Side comic who displays his bulls-eye birthmark to his buddy who responds ‘Bummer.’ Try not to look like such a target you idiot.

He looked me square in the eye, “Don’t worry I am not after your money. I have my own business.” His words were less reassuring than alarming. He looks at your light skin and blonde hair and sees green, you moron.

We found the airline office and I said bye to Ricky and wished him good luck. Pushing open the door to the office I said under my breath to myself, “And you thought he was going to try to rip you off?”

With my plane ticket in order I stepped back onto the streets of Kathmandu. Ricky stood across the street chatting with a buddy. He waved and then without looking ran across. My inner voice gloated in victory, Told you dumb…

“My American friend, how is everything? I would like to buy you a cup of tea?”

Murder, rape, and slavery, were just a few of the scenarios running through my head. Don’t be such a wuss I want to see what his deal is.

Ricky looked across the street, shot his buddy a wave and a wink, and then hailed a cab.

The cab stopped in the middle of the street. Ricky paid and then we ran out like a couple of bank robbers. We were in the tourist part of the city known as Thamel. Ricky ran a comb through his greasy hair as we passed by rundown shops filled with generic camping gear such as “The Nepal Face” in the same design as “The North Face” gear. In Thamel nothing is as it appears.

Ricky led the way into the restaurant and gave the sole employee a nod of greeting. Words were not exchanged and Ricky showed me to a booth in a dimly lit corner. Two teas were brought to our table.

He put his elbows on the table and then leaned in over his cup of tea. Welcome to Ricky’s office you schmuck. Ricky was dialed in and it was time to work on the naïve American. “I export precious stones and carpets, but I have met my exporting limit for the year. You seem like a nice man and I would like to help you make some money.”

Oh, I see. He is not after your money; he is trying to make you money. What a nice guy?

I sat there with a blank look staring at the cream coagulating in my tea. “All you have to do is take my stones or carpet to another country and upon arrival give them to one of my contacts who will give you US $6,000- you keep half. ”

He continued to explain: where I would pick up the merchandise; how I would carry it through customs; how I would claim it, etc. Every detail was touched on and then explained again. Whoa, sounds like some easy money, Kelsey, and you really don’t have to do anything. Play along. Act interested.

Ricky leaned back in his chair, stretched, and as if an afterthought said, “All you have to do is give me your credit card and I’ll take off US $3,000 so when you meet my contact you keep the entire $6,000 and we’ll be square.”

Play along, please, for me. “I am flying to Austria. Do you have a contact there?” He nodded. “And then London?” Nod. “Dayton, Ohio?” Nod. You must really look dumb if he expects you to believe that he even knows where to find Dayton on a map..

I sat silent. “Come, we go to my shop?” Hey doofus, go with him, but be ready to bale out on a moments notice. No matter how bad I talk about you, you’re my only friend.

His shop was a few blocks away. The streets were crowded with tourists and I felt in no real danger. Ricky stopped in front of a rotting wooden door, no sign or window. He opened the door and sitting on the floor were two Nepalese boys chipping away with hand tools at red, purple, blue, and white stones. Here I thought that precious stones took millions of years to form and then once harvested were cut by highly trained individuals wearing white lab coats in white room, looking through high powered magnifying glasses, working with high tech cutting tools.

You need to get some glasses and maybe grow a beard. Something to make you look smarter. I was beginning to feel a little insulted. “You know Ricky, I hate to have all that responsibility of carrying around your beautiful stones, I’ll pass but thanks.”

“It is no problem. I have insurance.” He was pleading in desperation.

“No thanks.” Kiss my inner butt, Ricky.

I walked away with my thoughts.

Engaged Consumer

« Older Posts

See More on YouTube

Confession: I tickle my daughter. I'm a tickler. I will be resigning from Congress immediately. Thank you. 2 hours ago
Underwear made from bark of banana tree. Banana hammock indeed (YouTube) http://bit.ly/bdcCeb 6 hours ago