Imaginary Day

Okay. I'm back at work. It's Monday and I'm sitting very complacently at my impeccable desk, once again waiting for the phone to ring. I've finished my coffee (yum-yum for mocha cappucinos) and the humidity is starting to pull the curl from my hair and poof and frizz it at the same time. I love Indiana summers...

I've been musing about my life, and, although I must admit it is very pleasant, it is not very eventful. So this entry is going to be entirely fictitious. I have a feeling that you would enjoy it more than the boring, bald facts.

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I awoke early this day. It was completely dark with just a smudge of gray along the horizon. I pushed the enormous down comforter off me and fumbled around in the dark for my slippers. Even though it was June, the weather was still chilly up in the Austrian mountains. Besides, when in Europe, one simply must breakfast in one's robe and slippers. It makes one feel quite European and cosmopolitan. (Though I'm quite sure that very few Europeans actually do eat a leisurely breakfast in their pjs...)

But this morning I didn't sip my coffee as leisurely as I normally do- I didn't have to reheat it once. Nope. I downed it in a gulp and then started digging through my drawers, leaving my broichen half finished. If you've ever had broichen you know that this is quite a feat. A hot broichen with nutella is not easy to ignore. But I was excited about something else. Donning my newly purchased, thermal body suit, I quickly slapped on my carefully chosen accessories. For, even when doing extreme sports, one must be stunningly fashionable. I cut several poses in the mirror before tightening my hair into a very severe ponytail. Glancing at my watch I did a rapid inhalation and bolted down the stairs.

There, at the curb was a very American jeep. It looked very awkward on the cobblestone road, but many American things look awkward on these streets, especially my new stilettos. Don't ever walk on cobblestones in heels. Awkward falls are inevitable. In the jeep, propping her eyes open with one hand and clutching a hot tea with the other was Keturah. She groaned and laughed when she saw my completely coordinated outfit. But being a good friend, she leaned over and opened the door for me since my hands were full of our lunch and my knapsack.

"You really don't need all of that, you know." I muttered something about emergencies. "Hmmm, last I knew there was no emergency that necessitated three different kinds of lipgloss, Charles Dicken's Our Mutual Friend, a camera, and hairspray."

I grinned. "Okay, okay. But you never know- when your poor little chapped lips are burning and your hair refuses to stay up, you will come crawling to me- begging for my 'necessities'." She did a snorting laugh and pointed to a cup next to her-

"Tea. For you. Come on. Let's go."

As we drove out through the town and began winding our way up through the mountains, the sun began to turn the sky behind us a subtle pink. I breathed deeply and grinned at Keturah.

"Wanna sing 'On Top of Old Smokey'?" And we did. Much to the consternation of some nearby cows.

Our final destination was a castle. Or rather haf ruin, half castle. Waiting for us at the dilapidated gate was a 50ish man who looked rather disgruntled. I couldn't understand him, but Keturah said he was rather upset at having to get up so early. I didn't have much sympathy. I was suffering from jet-lag and fully awake. Besides, if one is going to hang glide, one should do it off of a castle in Austria. At sunrise.

He led us up some crumbling old stairs to the highest tower on the furthest wall. The cliff dropped off sharply below us and in the distance there was nothing but rolling farmland. I grinned. It was impossible not to. In the gray light we fumbled with our gear, driving the little old man to exasperation. Keturah at least knew "right" and "left" in German. I was clueless. But after finishing all the strapping in we were ready to go and the sun was peeking up over the horizon. With one last look at each other, one final grin, we both turned and ran off the wall.

There was one truly terrifying moment when I seemed to plunge towards the ground, and then suddenly I was flying. No words can possibly describe that feeling. I'm convinced that in heaven we will be able to fly without grumpy Austrian men and 50 bizillion buckles and straps. I can hardly wait!

We landed (too soon!) in a field about a mile from our rendevous car. (My little VW rental.) If you have never carted two hang gliders down a mile of Austrian country roads, then you have not truly lived. The sun was fully up by now and my stomach grumbled as I remembered my uneaten broichen.

The car was there. (We were beginning to think that we were lost.) And we deposited our gear at the nearby farmhouse, presumably owned by the grumpy man's daughter. At least, Keturah said she thought she was his daughter. I don't know. I just nodded and smiled.

Then we had to drive all the way back to the castle and get the jeep. It was quite a drive, but I had brought my favorite Disney tunes and we yowled along to those until Keturah got the idea to sing along to organ fugues. It was quite amusing. I got to sing the bass line. Keturah has a great falsetto...

We tried to eat our picnic lunch at the castle, but it had been sitting in the sun in the jeep for several hours and the sandwiches smelled funny. The apples were rather warm, and my favorite chocolate cake was a gooey mess. So instead we opted for a game of knights and princesses in the deserted castle. Neither one of us wanted to be the princess. It sounded too boring to sit and wait to be rescued. So we played two knights who were out to free the castle from its rooms full of dragons. We did the job very neatly, I might add. Granted, two twenty-something girls running around an ancient castle looks rather funny to a casual observer, but that's probably because that casual observer has never really had fun.

It was three-ish when we got back to the village. I was famished. So we showered (fighting dragons is sweaty business) and met at a little cafe where we proceeded in confirming to the natives that all Americans are gluttons. We then visited a house where Jews had hidden from Hitler, and took random pictures at every street corner and monument. No tame smiley pictures for us, no sirree-bob. I even got yelled at by a policeman for my Napolean picture (His statue gave me a piggy-back ride), but Keturah didn't get caught for her guillotine action on the one of Marie Antoinette. Lucky duck...

Dinner at this ritzy place. We dressed quite stylishly, then it was an evening concert outside. Apparently this place was some sort of accordian production capital. And we arrived just in time for the accordian festival.

It was midnight when we returned to the hotel and fell into bed. I made Keturah pack her bag before she slept, though. If she wanted to use the bathroom for her customary 30 minutes tomorrow there would be no time for packing, and we had to leave by 8 to make it to Paris before dark. She'll thank me in the morning. Tonight she just looked at me ruefully and said,

"If I'm grumpy in the morning- it's your fault."

"Of course you'll be grumpy in the morning. But since you're always taciturn anyway in the morning, I don't think I'll really notice..."

I proceeded to mash down my clothes and tuck toiletries in the the corners of my suitcase. Tomorow was Paris.

Tomorrow would be wonderful...