Running Away To Egypt (At Age 9)

I do not know where I got it into my head (perhaps Indiana Jones is to blame), but a la 1981-ish, I decided I was going to move to Egypt (from suburban Reston, Virginia.)  Accessory to this monumental plan was Nehil Ezzat (lovingly called "NeHi", like the archaic soft drink), my 4th grade female colleague of Egyptian descent.  NeHi and I meticulously studied and dissected (with scissors) her parents' prize collection of National Geographic magazines (apparently without their consent.)  We pasted various National Geographic maps together upon large blue construction paper and highlighted our planned route: Virginia to the Atlantic Ocean, take a boat to Africa (we'd hide in cargo!), and then hike/camel to Egypt (something like that.)  "Do you need a license to drive a camel?" was our main concern at the time.

 

            Therefore, on the appointed Friday afternoon, I thoughtfully packed my neon-day-glow-flower-print suitcase:  two pair of shorts, one "Dukes of Hazard" tee-shirt, clean undies (of course), pajamas, my swimsuit (in case we have to swim in the ocean), some personal hygiene products (soap and toothbrush with paste), a Wonder Woman towel, a hairbrush, a flashlight, a family photo (notably without my 5 year old sister in it), two Barbies (which poked out the side of the suitcase--they needed to breathe!), and some snacks (mostly twinkies.)  I collected all my "allowance" money:  $4.63.  I warmly hugged my sister good-bye (she was suspicious from the start) and told my mother I was off to Katie's house (next door) for the night (yes, I know, a lie--but I didn't want her to interfere with our plan.)  I calculated no one would discover my Goodbye Letter (tucked under my pillow) at least until Saturday, and by then, NeHi and I would be on a boat to Africa.

 

            The first leg of my journey involved getting to NeHi's neighborhood on foot, well across town and two busy highways.  NeHi was to meet me at the school bus stop at sunset, with the map and hopefully, more twinkies.  From there, we would walk to the ocean and sneak onto a boat (little did we suspect the ocean was over 200 miles away.)  Only by nightfall with flashlight in hand, a little disorientated but not discouraged, I still had not found NeHi or the bus stop.  However, I did not fret, this was part of the adventure, no?  I just didn't want NeHi to worry.  Since I knew I had to walk a while along one of the highways (and it was well lit by street-lamps), I embarked (unknowingly) down Route 606 (a major highway that links up with the Washington DC Capital Beltway.)

 

            Confident NeHi's bus stop was just around the corner, a Police Car pulled over, just ahead of me.  The male officer stopped the car, got out of the car slowly and began to approach me.

 

            "Hey there, where are you going, young lady?"  Police Man asked smiling.  I confess I was suspicious, I was taught NEVER to talk to strangers and I certainly wasn't going to tell him I was on my way to Egypt; I feared sneaking onto African boats may be illegal. 

 

            "I am going to my friend's house."  An half-lie.

 

            "Well, where does your friend live?"

 

            "Oh, just around the corner from here." 

 

            "Well, can I give you a ride to your friend's house?"  He asked.  "It is dangerous to be walking along this highway, especially at night."  I considered his offer and decided that Police are not really strangers, no?   I got to ride in the front of the police car (my first time!) and started issuing, what turned out to be, impotent directions.  After maybe half an hour of riding around the local neighborhoods, without clear memory of NeHi's street name or address, Police Man asked, "Hey, I'm hungry!  Are you hungry?"  Down to two twinkies already, I confessed I might be a little hungry.  He suggested a quick visit to McDonald's; I caved in immediately. 

 

            Police Man and I ate in the restaurant and after much prodding (and a chocolate milk shake), I found myself shamelessly divulging our plans to move to Egypt.  Police Man took great interest in our plans and started interrogating me:

 

            “But do you have a valid passport?  Do you have the proper visas?  Do you speak any Arabic?  Are you taking anti-malarial drugs?”

 

            “No!  I don’t use any drugs!  Just say NO to drugs!” 

 

“Do you know the exchange rate?”  Police Man continued.  I was thoroughly impressed with how much he knew about Africa.  Of course, my main concern was whether one needed a license to drive a camel or not.  He said, “Yes” and apparently one has to be at least 16 years old.  Police Man then suggested we head to NeHi’s house at once, because we had a long trip ahead of us.

 

While playing on the Police Radio ("10-4, buddy!"), I started to recognize the environs--a bit fuzzy at first, and then I saw the “Heathcote Court” sign.  My stomach turned.  Police Man was taking me HOME!  Just as we pulled into my driveway, both my parents materialized at the front door with the Classic Plastic Parents' Smile--which I recognized as the Eye of the Hurricane of Parental Discontent (the "I-Am-Going-to-Kill-You-Right-After- the-Non-Family-Member-Leaves" look.) 

 

I glared at Police Man and whispered vehemently:  "Traitor!"

 

My father proceeded to yank me out of the Police Car, contrary to his inflated gratitude to Police Man for my safe return.  Instead of a warm Ulysses welcome home, I was berated for several hours (well, it seemed like hours) about "running away", "lying", and "destroying" the Ezzats' prize National Geographic collection (I was surely going to Hell now.)  It came to light that my nosey (shouldn't be in my bedroom at all) sister had discovered the "Good Bye! Gone To Egypt Will Send Postcards" letter and without being able to actually READ the letter, passed it onto my mother.  On Monday, at school, NeHi would report similar parental torture devices, including being grounded for a week.  Well, we'd just have to postpone our trip until we were 16 and could get a license to drive a camel. 

 

NOTE:  I did eventually make it to Africa, Tanzania, to be exact by age 19.  And about a year ago, "Nehi", fortuitously came across our story on-line and contacted me to let me know that she did in fact make it to Egypt...in 1996.

 

 

Reviews

[Rhonda]

what an interesting story. i'd love to go to Egypt, but i'm only 13. nice job! :)