Neurotica Page 14
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me!”
Whoever came up with that saying has obviously never been the victim of merciless gossip and innuendo. I'm talking about the sort of rumours and backstabbing that gnaw at the very soul like a Rottweiler ravaging a honey baked ham.
Let's face it - cuts and bruises heal, but hurtful words never leave the deepest recesses of our subconscious. In this regard, the pen really is mightier than the sword. Before I get too carried away (it is already sufficiently obvious that I deplore gossip, mean spirited or otherwise), let me quickly switch to how all this is affecting me. For as of late, I have been the victim of an intense smear campaign birthed by equal parts ignorance, jealousy, spite, dishonesty, and misrepresentation of the basic facts. I will now use this opportunity to clear the matter up – once and for all. Read this carefully – without prejudice.
During the summer of 2003, I decided to vacation in South America. The name of my country of destination will remain anonymous. Suffice to say that I had just completed my Masters Degree and was anxious to relax. I was also looking forward to leaving Toronto, where my social life at the time was not worth mentioning, and travelling abroad to meet new and exciting people. I had mentally prepared myself to “let loose” and have a great time – forgetting all the problems, constraints, and inhibitions of a North American lifestyle. As I flew over anonymous mountains, my mind reeled with the possibilities. Suddenly, alarm spread throughout the plane. People were screaming and yelling in a foreign tongue. I could feel the pressure change. My stomach knotted. I could hardly come to grips with what was happening, but the facts were unavoidable. The plane was rocketing back towards earth. I could see mountains flashing by. We were going to crash.
About one hour later, I woke up. Miraculously, I was not injured. I was still seated in my section, but my section – or what remained of it - was completely separated from the rest of the debris littered around the mountain. No one else was as fortunate. I was the sole survivor. Before I go any further, let me restate that I wish to set the record straight, once and for all. I beg your understanding in this matter. Let the following statement serve as both the end of this narrative and an end to the vicious rumours and misinformation surrounding me.
It was cold as hell up on that mountain. I had no way of contacting help. How was I to know that a rescue team would be there in only two hours? I’m telling you – I had to eat those people!
As the Crow Flies