The rocky coast appeared, hours late. Not a scrap of vegetation was in sight. Arab watchtowers built on the golden colored rocks looked down at us. We docked. As we were leaving the ship, the ship’s tour director informed us that the luxury hotel the cruise line had booked for everyone was not available for an unknown reason and that we would be sent to a different but slightly less famous hostelry.
The English lord turned purple with rage. He screamed and he yelled and he made threaing gestures. Then he repeated the performance until the other passengers waiting patiently in the bus began to yell at him to shut up.
Judith Works (to be continued)
