Life needs a sense of danger

Every so often I go through this stage where I feel that life needs a sense of danger to really let me know I’m alive. And I’m not just talking about having a bit of a scare like I might not make it to the train station on time to make my train to work in the morning. No, I’m talking about some shit scarey thing that makes your heart pound like a bastard and not knowing whether or not you’re going to make it out alive. Kinda like what the ultimate adrenaline junkies chase I guess, when they do stuff like extreme base jumping, or extreme crocodile taming Steve Irwin style.

I developed this danger need during my first trip overseas after leaving Australia when I was travelling in Egypt from Dahab to Sharm el-Sheikh in a taxi with three Palestinians I had met in a cafe on the beach while stoned out of my skull. They said they new the owners of a night club there and I could drink for free if I came along. All I heard was free drinks, and I was sold! As was pretty typical we passed through military checkpoints in the car every 50 kilometers or so, which normally wasn’t a big deal, except for this one checkpoint where we got pulled over for a passport check. One military guy came out with a huge fucking assault rifle in his hands, takes one look at the car and the next thing he is screaming at the guard house and these five guys all come running out armed to the teeth with big fucking guns and grenades strapped to their chest. We all got pulled out of the car – except for the driver – and I was pushed onto the car bonnet (front) and the other three were put face down on the ground. Everyone is screaming in Egyptian – or Arabic, I just couldn’t recall clearly afterwards – and then the gaurd on me put the barrel of his rifle about an inch from my face. I honestly thought that was it; siyonara, goodbye, see you all in the next life. My mind went blank, and the only thing I could think of was, I hadn’t even told mum I was in Egypt, the poor woman wouldn’t even know where to tell the Australian Embassy where to look for me. I couldn’t help but stare at the end of the barrel like an acid tripper will stare at a spot on the wall. When you’re faced with the end, it’s funny what will hold your concentration. Well the very next thing, the three Palestinians are being picked up off the ground and their passports are being checked. A minute passed, and then everybody starts shaking hands and patting each other on the back like their old pals. This gaurd who I thought was going to blow me away, gives me this big smile and asks for my passport. I just about drop the thing handing it over my hands were shaking so much.

“Ahhh… Australian… Home and Away… Neighbours… Very nice shows. I love beautiful beaches you have”.

What the fuck is going on? Was pretty much what I was thinking. All I could actually say was some grunts and a few, yeah right’s!

“How you like Egypt? Very beautiful country. Are you having a nice time”?

The warm smile; the eagerness of his friendly conversation; it was all just too much. I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. So I smiled and said, ‘yeah right’.

After that the gaurds opened up the car doors for us like chauffeurs and we got in and drove off. Just to add to the bizarreness, they all waved us off with big smiles as if farewelling good friends.

Nobody said anything for about a minute, until I turned around (me being in the front seat, and three amigos being in the back) and asked just what the fuck happened, and why the fuck did that just happen to me? One of the guys that that happened all the time, unfortunately he really closely resembled a high profile Middle East Terrorist wanted in several countries, and it was a case of mistaken identity. He apologised, and hoped that my shirt wasn’t too covered in dust from the road. But not to worry, I could enjoy free drinks when I got to the club.

I was dumbfounded, and shocked into stupidity, and just let it go. The rest of the night was a total blast. I had so much fun because it was as if something was liberated inside of me. I felt free and alive. Every drink tasted like the best drink I’d ever had, and every song was like my favourite. Nearly 10 years on, I don’t know what it is, but every so often I think about going out and finding danger like that again just so I can feel alive like that again! Pretty stupid because at the time that happened I never ever wanted to go through that again. But that feeling of liberation was pretty intoxicating.

Funnily enough, since that event, I’ve never actually been scared in my life since. Sure I’ve had adrenaline rushes from exciting times, but I’ve never felt fear since that night.

I wonder if it’s too late to apply for international jetsetting spy jobs with ASIO?

Andy.

The Life needs a sense of danger by Mentalechoes, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.