Adventures In The Far Reaches

Chapter 6

HIS ROOM WAS at the third floor of the rather neat apartment, and though the stairs were pretty short, getting up there proved to be quite a hike. I guess all the stress from my first 45 minutes in Iran has taken a big toll on me already. I felt gravity was much stronger in the building, perhaps because of my epic barf that has drained what's left of my energy, but I kept fighting the urge to lie down with the sirens, a sign that any moment then a bomb might fall out of the sky and blow us all up to heaven, giving me the pressure to move on. The floors were tiled, the ceilings installed with elaborate lightings and the doorknobs gold-plated. The whole place, Omar said, was once a three-star hotel and a favorite of tourists. Now, it's just another relic of the calm times of the nation. The rooms may be a poor man's paradise with all the fancy appliances and décor, but they're as good as garbage now with utilities down and out. Several families stayed with him in the building, and like him, they all took the chance for a free check-in as the VIPs once staying in the place all evacuated and ran off.

The third floor up housed the largest suites, and Omar took refuge in the largest and fanciest one – a reasonable choice, as it's free anyway. His room was basically like a photographer's studio warehouse, all white and bright, with a kitchen and the sofas on one side. But the rising Sun gave the room a yellowish glow. I could still smell the mothballs.

"Damn nice room, man," Chris said.

"Thank you," Omar said, removing the cloth covers of the sofa and the furniture and hanging the Bulls cap on the side of a big LeBron portrait just beside a cabinet full of NBA figurines. "You can sleep in my sofas if you want to." With no hesitation, we just dropped our backpacks and the busted camera on the floor and dived straight on the sponge-like sofas, like that type I've never put my ass before. I felt like I just trekked the entire expanse of the Rockies and Appalachians at the same time, and climbed Everest twice after. Jet lag and stress from severe tension was indeed a pretty horrible combination. I didn't even have the strength to commend on how beautiful his room was.

"Sorry about this, Omar," I said. "We're just really tired and jet lagged."

"Don't worry about it," he said, grabbing something over his kitchen on the other side of the room. "You have to rest. You had a very long flight. You will need the energy."

The sound of the sirens made it through the glass doors of the overhang. As the wind blew the elaborately-embroidered silk curtain, I saw several bullet holes forming an intricate web of cracks on the glass. "Are you sure we're safe up here?"

"I've been here for quite a while. As long as we stay away from the windows, we're gonna be fine." He then placed a tray of coffee, fried rice, bread and bacon on the table. "Here's food when you have your rest. Sorry, it's not that hot anymore."

"No, no, no, no. It's okay. Thank you very much."

"Now just rest and I will fix camera, okay?"

"Oh my God. Thanks again, man. I hope we're not much trouble."

"It's okay," he said. "Don't worry about a thing." If he just lived in the States and was eight years younger, I would like say yes without thinking about it were he asked my hand for marriage. I just wished Chris was like him, but he did prove himself to be a provider and protector material along the way. Omar was so fucking nice, it actually made me guilty. On the side of the kitchen was a cabinet filled with all sorts of NBA memorabilia, mostly figurines of players and trophies. The wall from the door was plagued with posters of players floating in the air just as they smash the ball in the basket. They must be all from Judd. I thought of calling headquarters to tell them that we're with him, but I was only supposed to use the satellite phone in extremely important matters or when the headquarters called us. The Smartphone, which Chris made me bring, was only good for picture-taking and easy entertainment.