Occasionally, I like to test human nature and to pinch myself that good still exists among us. I can say, without doubt, that it does exist if you look for it. Stories link to stories, in an endless chapter of existence and can be found on these pages, if you dig deep and step back. Here is one of happiness, that links to the previous post.
Yesterday, kid and I were lost in Moscow. We had returned to the clinic to see painted finger nails, (the doctor and alleged "assistant surgeon") to check his willy healing progress. We arranged to see her at six. We told her on the phone, that we would not pay and that we already given them vast sums of money for his operation and would not pay a ruble more for a checkup visits. To our surprise, she accepted this and let us see her. We arrived early at the clinic at five thirty. Doctor, painted finger nails, was glued to her white iPhone. She saw us but kept us waiting till the agreed, appointment time. She stood at the reception, in her white doctors coat, high heels and glossy red lips, chatting and laughing, while we waited, with no intention of seeing a moment early. We she did see us, she had the look of a woman who was casually looking at handbags in a designer shop and despite her doctors coat, looked indifferent and rather bored. After I had questioned her, it seemed all was fine with willy. Russian doctors are not used to being questioned, even in a private clinic. We said goodbye, promised to never to go back to the AMC (American Medical Center) and got in the car to head home.
This time, we were flying home solo, without the help of a WNA (wife navigation assistance). I only had my iPhone, that does not have a speaking map, in the form of Google Maps. I typed in the directions home and with the phone balanced on a knee, we joined the buffalo herd heading home, feeling very nervous of where it was sending us. From behind me, my kid kept saying "daddy whats that", "daddy can I have a sweet", "daddy want to get out" while we crawled along, with the herd, as predators of fear, stalked my mind. Map, without speaking, indicated to me, via a long blue line on the screen, to turn right, so I turned right, we were herded into a steam of cars, with no way of escaping. We were sent, with the iron herd, over the river, to join a vast road, heading god knows where? After an hour, my phone messaged me with those terrifying, two words, that no idiot, lost in a vast concrete, foreign city wants to read "battery low". Map and the chance to call my wife to say, "we may never see you again" were fading fast, as my phones life ,slowly ebbed away. The road offered us multiple signs, with multiple options of getting lost, sending us further into the concrete jungle. From the back of the car, my kid said "daddy I feel sick". The second words, that no idiot, lost in a vast concrete, foreign city wants to know. I handed him an old plastic bag, that I found tucked in the drivers door and told him to puke into that, "no daddy", "stop, get out". I could feel panic rising up from my stomach. Then it came, warm vomit, mixed with carrots, flew in the air behind me, sending bits of carrot, down the back of my shirt. My kid began to cry while his trousers and the car floor, were covered in the soup from lunch time. Traffic fumes, dust and vomit, filled the air of our small car, as we headed further into lost land.