Warning!
This is a book for the open-minded only!
If you feel that you already know all about the mysteries of our existence, your view of life is set and you would like to keep it this way, then this book is not meant for you. Don't bother reading...
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I want to know God's thoughts. . . the rest are details.
- Albert Einstein
Having seen some part of the eastern world during our wintertime, Beni and I decided to explore a region more to the west in summer.
The country that we had chosen for our next adventure was: the USA. Where the language was hopefully not an issue.
But in order to pay for the trip that was not exactly going to be cheap, we first had to work for two months. Again.
Oh, joy!
As before, Beni worked on a construction-site, while I found a job at a small, rural restaurant close to a planet observatory and only a few kilometers from home.
My only free days during this hottest summer in the memory of the Austrian meteorological institute, fell on Tuesdays. And I swear: even though the rest of the week would be boiling hot, with the sun relentlessly blazing down from a brilliant, blue sky, each Monday late in the afternoon, clouds would invariably gather on the firmament, to send their welcome (to everybody but me), watery blessings down on the following Tuesday. Only to completely disappear again on Wednesday.
Every. Single. Time!
As you can probably imagine, I was getting more and more irritated with every passing week.
The fact that Beni would occasionally visit me at my working place with some of our friends in tow, did nothing to improve my mood. How could it, since my dearest boyfriend, who was supposed to support me and cheer me up, immensely enjoyed taunting me with words, like: "Ok, guys. . . what about going down to the lake for the rest of the day and taking a dip into the Wallersee?"
Thanks so much!
On the up side, I did get to know quite a few people up there and I actually earned a lot more money than I had the year before in Switzerland. True, the general wages there had been higher than in my home-country. And the people had been a lot richer than those who gathered daily at the tiny restaurant on top of the small hill, somewhere in the Salzburg landscape. But not as generous.
At the end of the summer, I had made more in tips that I had in actual wages. It seemed to me that my countrymen really enjoyed tipping. Which was fortunate, because I don't know how I would have been able to afford my trip to America, otherwise!
*****
"Are you married?" A stern looking officer at the end of an one and a half hour immigration-line at JFK-airport, asked us harshly.
"N. . .no. . .," I responded warily. Having been traveling for about eighteen hours, I felt exhausted, grumpy and not very welcome. Besides, the long wait had left my feet aching and honestly, I was not particularly fond of queuing, anyways.
Moving along in between ropes at an impossibly slow pace made me feel like we were cattle or sheep, being herded towards some unknown destination. A sensation that I did not particularly relish. . .
