Because the Sun never Sets on a Badass
If you type "Horatio Caine" into Youtube you will be directed to a plethora of videos which capture the quintessential one-liners of David Caruso's character on CSI MIami, as he cooly whips off his sunglasses to make a point. Corney? Yes. So why do people all over the world love him? That's right. Horatio Caine is famous all over the world. In fact, the first words I understood anyone say when I was in Bulgaria were "Horatio Caine." We had an immediate connection.
I would liken Horatio to the Patron Saint of women and children. He looks out for those in trouble, provides a strong arm for the weary, and protects those who are vulnerable. He fights for justice, and Horatio Caine ALWAYS charges in like a valiant knight on his trusty stead to rescue a damsel in distress or child in danger.
All of us women want to be protected like that. Knowing someone like Horatio Caine exists helps us to feel safe. We admire him, we respect him, and we secretly wish for our very own version of him.
Among other amazing events that transpired this month, I met my Horatio Caine, and his name was Drackon.
When we entered the cabin of our train we did so with quite a commotion. One "gentleman" was helping us find our seats and places to store our giant, oversized backpacks. We couldn't understand anything that was being said but we could tell this man was yelling at people, telling them to move, and rearranging the luggage of other passengers so ours would fit. Apparently there were people in our seats who refused to move. Frustrated, our guy threw their luggage out into the hallway which got the people moving. Not having anyway to help, I chose to stand back and watch the whole thing go down assuming he knew what he was doing since he worked for the railroad.
Eventually everyone found a seat and a spot to store their bags. Well, everyone but me. When the dust settled in the cabin, my pack was still on my seat. When I motioned to the "gentleman" that had been helping us he threw his hands in the air and walked out. Just a few seconds later he returned, asking for money. Apparently my assumption was wrong. He did NOT work for the station. He was just some guy trying to earn some extra cash. Unfortunately we REALLY did not have any money. He, of course was mad, and stood there yelling at us in Bulgarian for about 10 minutes. Eventually he left and I was sentenced to a 12 hour train ride with only two inches of seat for my tush.
That's when I noticed Drackon. I had seen him coming and going during the whirlwind, but I hadn't really noticed him. As the train began to move I took inventory. I was intrigued by him. He was a middle-aged man with a slight build, about 5'9", 165 lbs. His hair was whitish-gray and parted on the side. He had a kind face, with a subtle smile. His hands were calloused, showing signs of heavy manual labor over the years. He didn't say much, but when he spoke his voice was strong yet gentle.
In broken English and lots of hand gestures my teammates and I struck up a lovely conversation with Drackon and his sister, Rona. They taught us some useful words, we shared snacks, and I showed them pictures of my family and all the different countries we've been to. They were very sweet and we were having a very nice time. During our conversation I noticed a couple of gruff looking men walking back and forth through the hallway of the train but didn't pay much attention until they opened the doors to our cabin. They came in and very harshly "asked" us to move to another car. I don't know exactly what they said, but Drackon took care of it and they left – although they didn't appear to be very pleased.
At that point Drackon said, "There some not nice boys in Serbia." I got the point. He then instructed us to tell our teammates in the other cabin to make sure one of them was awake at all times. We did without question, and then we resumed our conversation. After we crossed the border I decided try and get some rest. As soon as I dozed off the men came back. This time they were not leaving. They were shouting and waving their hands. Finally Drackon stood up and let them in. They began rummaging under his seat looking for something. When they didn't find it they looked at us and said, "Get up!" We moved out of our seats as best we could and allowed them to continue their search. One guy slid something under the seat across the floor to the other guy, who grabbed it and shoved it in a bag. Then I saw the man pull out a shotgun from behind our seat. He quickly wisked that into the bag as well.
Dusty and I saw the gun at the same time and our eyes met, both as big as saucers. Is this really happening? Yup, these guys were smuggling guns from Bulgaria into Serbia and they had hidden them under our seats and throughout the train. Once we had crossed the border they came around to collect them. I thought two things in that moment –
1. I can't believe this is happening. This is awesome! and,
2. Crap, i saw their faces. If they decide to kill someone I'm going first and I'll never get to tell this story.
Drackon stood watch outside of our cabin for the rest of the night. He watched over us and protected us. He made sure no one bothered us. We knew we were safe with him standing guard. And as we waved goodbye to Drackon and Rona I imagined him putting on his shades and saying, "Not on my watch fellas, not on my watch," as he walked away into the sunset.
Some photos from Serbia . . .
Enjoying the spring weather and some "alone time" in the garden
Backpack relay challenge at the Inaugural World Race Survivor Challenge created to celebrate our fearless leader, Dusty Dills, who is a diehard Survivor fan.
Tribal Council
I win immunity!
Francis gets "voted" out. Sorry Francis.
Foreign Food Frenzy Challenge:
Suck up as many worms out of the mud as you can and take them back to camp, all with your hands tied behind your back. It was gross!
REALLY GROSS!
Yay, Dusty Wins!!
It was a great day with great friends and great fun!!
