DAY NINETEEN: Dehydration Desperation

Nigeria to Egypt

In the middle of the night, I had to use the enormous restroom that is the Sahara Desert. It was so dark out there that I stumbled over unknown obstacles several times. After one of the falls, I felt a sharp stinging sensation on my recently re-attached left hand.

I didn't pay too much attention to the pain until I got back to the light of my tent, where I saw something that made me scream a scream that could have awakened every mummy in north Africa.

Other than the increasing pain, everything seemed fine when I took this picture of my campsite.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYIKEAROONIO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was still attached to my hand!

After swatting the horrible beast out of the tent, I spent the next forty minutes trying to suck the venom and ketchup-like blood out of the wound. I didn't get it all out, but I prayed to the God of the Church of the Great Outdoors that I got at least enough of it so that I wouldn't die all alone in this vast, unforgiving desert.

The next few hours were characterized by fitful sleep, intense sweating and the craziest hallucinations I've had since the 1970's. All that was forgotten though, when I woke up, fully alive, to a beautiful desert morning.

The celebration ended as soon as I discovered I was completely out of water. I vaguely remembered drinking it all last night after I woke up from a nightmare about riding my bike across the Sahara Desert with no water. Now I was faced with the REALITY of riding my bike across the Sahara Desert with no water. How prescient can a dream get?

I psyched myself up for the long, waterless ride. Mind over hydration, if you will. Then came the cotton mouth, the inability to sweat, the sunburn, the mirages, the willingness to sell your soul for one sip of cold water, the despair, the feelings of surrender. I guess my mind wasn't so strong after all.

I was at the lowest point of my life when I crossed the Egyptian border. The good news is that, just as I was about to fall into a deep sleep that would last forever, I stumbled across the most unlikely desert oasis. Was it just another mirage? To find out, I somehow summoned enough strength to turn The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong's pedals a few more times.

Pharoah Amenhotep's Irish Pub wasn't a mirage, it was an Egyptian MIRACLE! I don't have a drop of Irish blood in me, and I was not carrying a four-leaf clover or a box of Lucky Charms, but today I sure had the Luck of the Irish. I mean, seriously, what are the chances of finding an Irish bar in Saharan Egypt on St. Patrick's Day?

Was it luck, though? Or was it coincidence? Or was it destiny? I didn't care what it was, all I wanted to do was rehydrate.

I went into full Irish mode at Pharoah Amenhotep's Irish Pub: Green shirt, green beer and James Joyce.

The bartender, who introduced himself as Ahmad el O'Casey, filled up my water bottles before I left. He was a great guy and he wished me luck getting to the Nile River. "Watch out for the hippos," he warned, "they kill more people than any other animal on earth."

************

I could not believe I made it to civilization. Not just regular civilization, but one of the oldest civilizations in the entire world. I was pretty excited about that.

I had a couple hours to kill before I could check into my motel, so I thought I should visit a few tourist sites. I was a little lost, so I asked a guy for some directions.

"Hey, dude, which way to the pyramids," I asked?

"I don't know, what do you think I am--a tour guide?"

So, I pulled out my phone to consult Goofy Maps and created my own route. It worked. I found those ancient pyramids. When I saw them, I did not believe for a second those amazing structures were built by Egyptian slaves. Only alien beings had the architectural know-how to create something like that so many centuries ago.

The extraterrestrials might still be here too. I base that opinion on the green Martian who I met earlier, and then there was the blue Saturnian who welcomed me to the pyramids and became my tour guide.

"Peace, live long and prosper, and we are here to SERVE you" he said. (All I could think of was a Twilight Zone episode.)

I found a little roadside motel not far from the pyramids. It was a pet-friendly motel. As a pet owner myself, I appreciate motels that allow pets into their rooms.

But I did NOT appreciate the shrieking, whining, grunting, snorting and banging into walls that came from the room next to mine. Some guy brought his pet camel with him. That's just rude.

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