1. All hail Aunt Jemima! For she has the only name in the universe synonymous with pancakes.

2. All hail Aunt Jemima! For when you cross paths with her, she will not leave you hungry.

3. All hail Aunt Jemima! For you can’t look at her without her making your mouth water.

4. All hail Aunt Jemima! For your pancakes would be in disarray without her.

5. All hail Aunt Jemima! For you have many fond memories with her, prior to leaving for work.

6. All hail Aunt Jemima! Because I say so and this is PI.

7. All hail Aunt Jemima! For she creates syrupy goodness 365 days a year.

Photo by jeffreyw

Entering Barnes & Noble I smiled at the security guard.

I took the escalator to the 2nd floor to sample a few self-help books hoping to spark an idea for a mind-blowing inspiration piece for PI.

After about 15 minutes of sampling some books, I got this strange feeling someone was watching me. Just as I turned around, I saw the security guard walking toward Starbucks.

I tried not to think much of it, but something wasn’t right. What were the chances that the moment I looked behind me, the security guard’s in sight? I tried dismissing it as coincidence.

Later, I went to the fountain to get a sip of water and after I was done, I turned around only to see the security guard grinning at me.

This is when I felt as if my guts no longer wanted to be a part of my body and had certainty that the guy had been following me throughout the store since I entered.

“Go ahead, pat me down, DO IT,” I said to him with indignation. “Because I didn’t steal a damn thing!”

“Huh … ? Sir, please calm down. No one is accusing you of stealing anything.”

I figured that’s probably what he’s trained to say when he suspects someone’s stealing things. This angered me so much I sprung my arms forward with the speed of Bruce Lee and slapped both his cheeks with both my hands simultaneously. The sound it made was hauntingly loud and an employee must have saw it because some lady screamed, “Someone call the cops!”

In my head flashed the memory of how the Brazilian government jailed me for two weeks for forcing them to search for me in the Amazon without first filing for a permit prior to “exploring the jungle.” Oh, and the money I owe the Brazilian government from that rescue operation? It’s sickening.

I sprinted away from the security guard after double slapping him until I reached the end of the 2nd floor where there was a ledge.

One jail experience was enough for me and I preferred death over going back to the cage.

I instinctively propped myself up onto the ledge to sow my revenge against the security guard who wouldn’t let me peacefully peruse the store for crying out loud.

The asshole started this whole thing; all I wanted to do was have a nice evening looking through books. But he took it upon himself to follow me everywhere I went like my name was Wynona Rider.

He was coming my way while I was standing on the wide ledge overlooking the 1st floor.

“Now look you son of a bitch,” I said to him. “I’m gonna jump and once I’m done, after your shift you can go home and flip on the 11 clock news and watch for the second time what happened to me. But just know this before I do… it was you who made me do it. Enjoy living with that guilt for the rest of your life, I said panting because adrenaline was pulsating through my body like I just ran into the end zone to win the high school football championship.

“Sir I didn’t do anything,” the security guard pleaded.

“Nothing?! Nothing?! You were following me every last damn place I went in this store like I’m some kind of thief. For f*cking sake, I just wanted to flip through a few books, was that too much to ask?!”

After saying that I thought it would relieve me of my anger, but it did just the opposite. The continued sight of the security guard dressed in a black blazer and red tie made me want to vomit, so I stared into his eyes and then leaped into the air and did a 360, falling back down onto the ledge like I belonged in a circus. As I did this, all the spectators gasped, some even screamed like they just saw a poltergeist.

So what if I jumped to my death you stupid spectators; you obviously never spent a day of your life in the big house, I thought to myself. Well, I’ve spent two weeks! And those Brazilian pens are satanic.

Finally, the fuzz arrived and tried to sweet talk me into not jumping to my death.

“It’s not worth it, you don’t have to jump… think of your future.”

“Do you know who I am” I asked impatiently.

“No, but please… tell us about yourself.”

Suddenly I jumped up again and jolted my legs down as hard as I could making a violent sound that seemed to penetrate everyone in the store and said, “I’m Bamboo Forest and I’m the heavy weight blogger of the world!”

I continued…

“Look, the only way I’ll agree to not taking the plunge is that after you arrest me you ensure a link to my blog is mentioned in the local newspaper and that the local TV news also mentions my blog. Do that and I’ll calmly step down. Don’t and I’ll jump, no problem.”

The fuzz responds, “Yes, whatever you want, just please don’t jump… it’s not worth it and we can absolutely assure you that you’ll get your link in the newspaper and mentioned on the local news. You have my word.”

I calmly got down, putting both my arms out to invite the fuzz to cuff me and hall me in.

Sometimes I feel life’s not worth living. But by remembering PI and its greatness, I’ve avoided many, many attempts at suicide.

This one just happens to be public.

Ever had a bad day?

The kind that makes you want to lose your mind completely, strip naked, lace up your Nike’s, and joyously skip to your local grocery store to purchase Honey Bunches of Oat.

I’ve had this experience many times and while I’ve never gone through with it, I respect any man who has.

Meet Mr. Steven Slater, flight attendant for Jet Blue who clearly had a bad day, and unlike myself, who can be a sissy at times, he manned up and showed us all how to get jiggy with it when the world throws a curve ball at ya.

We salute you sir. The haters can rot in hell.

While having an ordinary day as a flight attendant, a woman decided to get out of her seat early to get her luggage from an overhead compartment.

Mr. Slater, concerned for her safety, confronted her on this.

As she was getting her stuff, she maliciously struck him in his head with her bag and quite reasonably, he demanded an apology.

Instead of getting an apology, the woman told him to go f*** yourself and called him a mo-fo.

Lady, whoever you are, if you’re reading this, we’d like an interview with you.

What follows is a chain of events that makes Mr. Slater the most epic flight attendant ever to grace this ball of spinning ice you know as earth.

He promptly got on the loud speaker and cursed out not just the woman who hit him, but every passenger on the flight.

When he was done with that, he grabbed a few beers from the galley and then pulled the emergency chute and slid down the plane’s fun slide like a champ.

Nothing like taking a couple brews for the road after cussing out a plane full of passengers on the p.a. system.

Slater was later arrested at his home while apparently in the midst of sexual relations.

What can we learn from all this, children?

Simple:

1. When you’ve completely ruined your reputation, make sure you steal a few brewskies before taking your escape route.

2. Flight attendants don’t kill people when they go postal; they rock it harder than Jean-Claude Van Damme on steroids.

Your host and companion,

Bamboo Forest

Ever had an awkward experience? You know, those that make you want to escape into a land occupied by fairies.

Many consider me an authority on awkward experiences, which is why you’re in for a treat.

A couple awkward experiences I’ve experienced:

• Bumping your head and then trying to act as if nothing unusual happened (WTF, you just bumped your head!)
• Getting caught picking your shnoz (Has happened to me many, many times)
• Noticing your zipper is down after spending an evening at a dinner party (don’t ask)
• Asking a girl for her number and being told no (Bamboo’s no foreigner to rejection)

After experiencing a ridiculous number of awkward experiences in my life, I’ve finally discovered a solution to them that will blow your mind.

I don’t mean to toot my own horn (TOOT TOOT), but I’m insanely proud of my revelation:

When these awkward things happen to you… face them head on by breaking into your best acappella.

Ever seen a musical?

You know, when a group of people simultaneously break into song and dance, trying to persuade you they haven’t been rehearsing that number for weeks?

Screw that bologna!

Just do your thing. When you’re picking your nose at a red light and the car beside you takes a looky, glance over at them and signal them to put their window down. Once they do, start singing with all your might,

“Listen, boy… you caught me picking my shnoz (clap clap)… Could anything be more embarraaasiiiing? I ask you…..”

The secret to making this technique work is you have to sing with the joy of a child whose just pulled off a prank.

I tried out my method last week when I was taking a dump in a local restroom when suddenly the toilet started ejecting water like Old Faithful. Not only did my rear get drenched, but it was as if the meteorological phenomenon of flash flooding just visited the John.

I could see shoes underneath the crack scurrying in all directions and I felt so awkward I wanted to die, until…

I started breaking into my best acappella:

“I simply wanted to take a dump in peace… I guess I haaaad to really go, since I managed to clog the toilet with the three breakfast burritos I had this mooooorning……. Run, fellas, run… or you’re going to get your sneaks WET”

You know… it’s not like I planned to break into song. It was the result of what’s known as ‘fight or flight’. I was mortified and didn’t know what to do. Spontaneously, out of desperation, I started singing about what was happening, and henceforth this strategy is what I use whenever I feel awkward.

As I was walking out of the restroom (with my jeans completely waterlogged) I was singing up a storm; people in the mall were staring at me like I lost all my marbles. A few of the maintenance workers were rolling their eyes at me as I was exiting, leaving a trail of feces sullied water in my wake.

By no means did I lose my marbles… I was merely dealing with what otherwise would have been insanely embarrassing.

Clearly, this strategy is effective when the toilet bowl decides to mimic the geysers of nature.

But what about other kinds of awkward experiences? Could this technique be used for them, too? Let us know in the comment section.

P.S. – While taking the pictures for this post, I almost got arrested. The security guard tried to tell me I’m a perv for taking photographs inside the stalls. I’m NOT a perv, you JERK! I’m a blogger. He didn’t seem to believe me, though.

What an asshole

Illustration by *yannas

Success results from a series of wise choices. While that’s true, losing focus of what needs to be done now for everything required to reach your goals can lead you astray.

Every time I look back, unhappy with how I conducted myself, the cause has always been because of something I’ve chosen in the present moment, without exception!

The above realization teaches us that if we’re present enough, we’ll live in ways that when we look back, we’re proud of.

First figure out what you’re committed to doing and then focus your resources to doing it with only the present moment in mind.

The present moment is the base point from where all action emanates. The more your mind is centered in it, the greater the returns you’ll get from your efforts.

I’m not advocating relinquishing strategy that boosts motivation. I’m emphasizing that whatever strategy you use, realize you must take it with you wherever you go. If you’re not taking it with you, it makes its home somewhere other than the present moment, which won’t benefit you.

Look at the following strategy which I wrote about a while back in a post titled, Act as If You’ve Been Succeeding and You Will Succeed.

The premise of that post is that if you act as if you’ve been succeeding at something, even if you really haven’t, you’ll generate motivation to “continue on”.

Here’s an excerpt that explains it well:

Mistake: You’re on a diet, but slip up. You identify with your slip up, and subsequently return to old eating habits.

Use your mind: Pretend you’ve been successfully maintaining your diet for the past ten days [even right after the slip up]. Had you been successful for the past ten days, you would find it important to continue that success today, wouldn’t you?

It doesn’t matter that you really haven’t been succeeding for the past ten days. Pretend that you have, and you’ll generate powerful motivation to “keep the pace going” for your new day.

Why does this technique work? It works because you’re essentially not allowing your past to influence your present behavior. And at its core, this is what living in the present moment is. When you live in the present, your potential is limitless, because you choose how you want to be on the basis of who you want to be right now, independent of any other factor.

It’s the mental state of bad asses.

Of course, you can vary your strategies from one moment to the next or one day to the next. The most important underlying strategy of all, however, is that you shouldn’t go anywhere without having a clear understanding of what your chosen identity is.

Sometimes outside pressure doesn’t compel us to make choices we know are best for our lives. But, if we can create a clear understanding of who we want to be and realize that how we’re behaving isn’t consistent with that, this will cause ultimate pain. Pain so strong, we’ll be driven to change. Internal pressure is unbeatable when it comes to creating change.

“One of the strongest forces in the human personality is the drive to preserve the integrity of our own identity.” ~Anthony Robbins

Problem is, many of us don’t really think about who we want to be. It just doesn’t cross our minds, so we go on living in ways that are incongruent with our chosen identity, like a fish swept away by random ocean currents.

If we’d only take the time to cultivate full awareness of how we view ourselves and then asked whether our behavior’s in alignment with that vision or not: We’d make tremendous positive changes in our lives.

Go ahead and do the above now. But once you do, just take that knowledge with you and don’t think about the past or future, immerse yourself and your powers in the now.

Winston Churchill’s famous call to the Britons in WW II when going up against the Nazi’s was to make this their “finest hour”.

Well… let me, Bamboo Forest, make this admonition to you:

Let this be your finest moment. Every moment.

Illustration by stevecriado

1. You are male. Female butlers do not exist.

2. You are British, or pretend to be. Speak even a syllable without the accent, and your employment is instantly terminated.

3. You are eternally between the ages of 45 and 60.

4. You are a master in the art of sarcasm.

5. You are always the snazziest dresser in the room.

6. Elegance emits from your pores. Heck, your flatulence smells like cologne.

7. You must choose from the following names: Jeeves, Reginald, and Niles

Related posts:

7 Requirements to be a Cowboy

7 Requirements to be a Motivational Speaker

What if I told you that in 2008, a kid escaped from a Washington State halfway house, and ever since then has been stealing cars, boats and airplanes to dodge U.S. law enforcement?

You’d call me a liar, wouldn’t you?

Nope. This cat’s the real deal.

One of his most recent crimes entails stealing a single engine plane in Bloomington, Indiana and flying it to the Bahamas where he crash landed. It’s worth noting that this isn’t the first plane he’s stolen, nor is this the first plane he’s crashed landed. He’s also never had any formal flight training. If you want to call him a bad ass, I’m OK with that.

The young man’s adventure of just over two years running from the authorities came to a halt on Sunday, July 11, 2010. A spokeswoman for Romora Bay Resort and Marina described his dramatic capture with details befitting a James Bond film.

I’ve spent a half hour looking at what others have recently said about him on his facebook fan page where he has over 67,000 fans as of this writing.

Here are a few people’s thoughts:

Stacy Coar Phillips Sell your story to a movie studio, and you’ll be able to buy your own little island somewhere with a hot tub and a freezer stocked full of ice cream. Then become a consultant to the CIA for survivalist stuff…stuff that comes second nature to you but other people would pay to learn. But first things first, get a good lawyer, my friend.

Adam Webber It’s sad that some people are too literal and indoctrinated into the adult world to remember the possibility of escape; this kid broke the rules and defied the odds. While I don’t condone theft, I can still step back and see the big picture. A stolen aircraft will quickly be forgotten; a kid who taught himself to fly… and evaded law enforcement for two years is the stuff of a modern fairytale. He captured our imagination and I can only hope that an older, wiser Colton will find his way out of prison and slip silently into the populace only to be the subject of uncomfirmed sightings in cities and forests around the world.

Johnny Butcher ah, he’ll break out soon.–ye of little faith.

Chelcy Hall Mr. Moore is about to be told when to wake-up, go to sleep, eat, drink, poop and pee for a very long while to come. You can live whatever way you like, these are the consequenses

Look, what he did was wrong. He hurt other people’s lives in serious ways; there’s no question about that. I’m not celebrating his crimes. But if you don’t think he’s a f@cking genius that should be employed by the CIA immediately, you’re in denial.

He’s gonna pay his time in the pen, that is if he doesn’t escape. But my question is what will he do once he’s out? He’s only 19 now, so by the time he’s free, even after a long sentence, he’ll still be young.

I think it’s obvious what he should do. He’s going to become a spy, kid. And a damn good one at that.

Mr. Moore, you want to make up for the shit you’ve pulled over the past two years? If you’re reading this which you probably are, the solution is obvious: Join the f**king CIA and start kicking serious ass.

Make us proud.

[Video imbeded above]

Illustration by Pirateswoop

You’re sitting atop a well’s circular wall with your legs dangling above the drop that leads to frigid water.

It’s a beautiful morning in the daisy ladened field with an early morning mist and light just starting to peak above the horizon as if to greet you hello.

You feel total solitude sitting there until a breeze of destructive thoughts interrupts your time of quiet contemplation; how will you respond to those thoughts when they blow your way?

• If you have a big report due shortly, you could respond to panicky thoughts by doing other “important work” instead of focusing on the essential task of getting your report done on time so you actually pass your class.

• If thoughts of paranoia and worry are whisked into your mind by the destructive breeze, you could jump in your car and take a ride to the local McDonalds and order 15 Big Macs even though you’re over weight and trying to lose weight.

• If suddenly you see your stocks taking a swan dive for the day, you could go out and buy a carton of cigarettes even though you’ve gone a week without lighting up a single one.

Responding like any of the three choices above is willingly diving face first into the frigid well that just earlier you were sitting on and enjoying the ambiance of. This is never in your best interest and never necessary.

What Bamboo Forest Does When The Breeze of Negativity Comes to Play

When the breeze of negativity comes my way, the first thing I do is maneuver my dangling legs so I’m no longer sitting on the edge of the well, but now standing atop it, facing down its pit. Gazing down at the frosty water thirty feet below I see myself looking back up at me.

I then pull off something that if uploaded to YouTube would become viral in days. I do a black flip from atop the well’s wall, with perfect form, landing with only a slight recoil in the knees. I’m now facing the rocky well’s border. I then do a 180 degree jump turn and land so that my back is facing the well and my face is looking out on the forest.

Now I run.

But not frantically, but with joy coursing through my body like a man who’s just won gold medal in the pole vault event because I now know I’m master of my mind and captain of my soul because I’ve chosen to make it so. Entering the neighboring forest, I stroll through the tall pine trees and beautiful wild ferns that populate this magical place.

I hear a rushing river in the distance and decide to chase it down so I can enjoy its magnificent sound not as a whisper but as it loudly declares to all who approach that its sounds dominate all the rest.

I lie on my back with the sun in full view, absorbing its light given to all men for free while listening to the river play its tunes to those who’ve opted to choose life over the frigid waters of the well.

I now know, without a semblance of doubt, I’ve made the right decision.

Photo by digitarald

First and foremost, I’d like to thank the Brazillian government for sending a chopper out and rescuing me. Had they not, I’d still be in the Amazon.

All of you who’ve written emails and tweeted me with your support, it means the world to me. Thank you so much.

But enough about that… truth is, negativity sells.  And my number one goal has always been and always will be to entertain you. So, I will only share one positive email. The other two will be hate mail.

Jamal Jackson:

Son. You can be my wing man anytime! The way you handled the jungle people was off the chain, kid. That dance you pulled off… golden. Keep up the great work!

Emily Whiteheart:

Ummm, yeah. I scanned your Amazon account, but it was like WAYYY toooo long You and your bother need to get your act together and stop attempting the long, miserable stories. They kinda suck, haha. Just put up some top 7′s OK? Thank you.

Bill Clemens:

Hi, I’m Bill Clemens, a literary professor at U.C. Berkeley. Your stories suck. If I saw you in person I’d slap you upside the head and demand you stick with the humor and inspiration. Stick with what you’re good at. These stories are an absolute atrocity to what good story telling is.

Here’s a quote for you that you should be aware of if you ever even attempt another story:

“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”~Anton Chekhov

I love your site, but the stories? They’re the worst.

Thanks,
Bill Clemens

Truth: If you don’t got haters then you don’t got lovers. Word?

To the six of my readers who actually read both Amazon accounts entirely (2641 words), I love you. To the rest of you, I like you a lot.

Amazon Adventure Account Recap:

Why I’m Permanently Retreating to The Forest and You Should Too

Build Up to My Leaving For the Amazon

Bamboo Forest Enters the Amazon Part I

Bamboo Forest Enters the Amazon Part II

PI Lives!

Photo by magicmonkey

As I laid there I noticed in the distance the brush suddenly began to move. I was intrigued, because up until now the only moving things I spotted were small rodents.

I sat up, and could tell that what was peering through the brush appeared to have human form. After already accepting my impending death, I wasn’t exactly frightened, more like confused.

It showed itself and I knew exactly what it was as it did. The uncontacted tribe found me. I was amazed because I thought I’d have to travel much deeper into the Amazon to find them.

I guess it shouldn’t come as too much a shock; after all, I’ve been calling myself an asshole as loud as I could for the last 45 minutes.

Just as one of them started to approach me, I saw another one come out of the brush, he was pointing an arrow at me. At this point I didn’t even care and instinctively threw my arms up to show that I was submissive to them.

The unarmed man grabbed my arm and held it tightly as he escorted me somewhere; my only guess is it was back to their camp.

I started to say something:

“Whatever, dude, just get me somewhere dry to stay and feed me some deer meat or whatever the hell it is you guys eat out here.”

As I said that, I could swear the native sensed my sarcasm as he grabbed my arm tightly. I pretty much shut my mouth after that. These guys had facial expressions of bark and didn’t say a word to each other.

After what seemed like forever but was probably more like three hours of strenuous walking, we reached their camp. When the rest of the tribe saw me, they all gasped. I witnessed an old man in the corner scream. I have no idea what he said but I was certain it was something like, “we must kill the evil forest spirit before he poisons our children.”

Yeah. I was pretty much up shits creek.

I was escorted into a hut without a door. There was a native at the opening standing guard.

I was feeling optimistic. Maybe they were preparing me for some kind of ritual before taking me in as one of their own! Just before falling to sleep, I couldn’t wait for what tomorrow would bring. I was, however, still concerned they had evil intentions, but figured if they were going to kill me, why wait? Unless, of course, they’re superstitious jungle people who are going to make a whole ritual out of torturing me slowly.

It took me a while to get to sleep that night.

When I woke up… a young man stormed into my hut ridiculously early in the morning and grabbed me by my arm. He rushed me to where, I have no idea. We walked through the forest until we reached a completely circular clearing in the midst of the jungle.

I saw a bunch of tribesman standing in a circle and all I could think of was Indiana Jones.

The Indians in the circle made a small opening and the young man kicked me through it. I lost my balance and rolled like this was the beginning of me getting a beat down by a bunch of jungle natives in the Amazon.

I slowly got up.

Then one nutty looking Indian with a u shaped bone piercing both his lips, and a face as red as a cherry began to point a bone at me while the rest of the natives chanted crazy shit. It went something like this:

Buuu Lam LAAA, Buuu Lam LAAA…

I knew exactly what was going down, but surprised this ritual was practiced outside Australia.

The aborigines of Australia have a ritual where the shaman takes a bone that has been ritually prepared to exact specifications and points it at the victim. The victim believes so strongly that this process is cursing him, he dies either days or weeks later. This has actually been documented many times.

But I wasn’t buying into their voodoo shit. They’re messing with the wrong cat. The reason some victims have died from this ritual is because they believed with certainty that having the bone pointed at them meant certain death. As a result, their immune system shuts down completely.

When the victim has the bone pointed at them they freeze with utter fright. But I don’t play that game.

I began pulling off some crazy shit as this was going down. I started skipping with every bit of my athleticism and every time I leaped into the air, my thigh would raise to the heavens and I’d slap the side of my ankle and scream “Whoopa!” I did this again and again as if I was a perpetual motion machine. I was kicking some serious ass. All the while, their chants were getting louder and louder (Buuu Lam LAAA, Buuu Lam LAAA) and the shaman kept pointing that bone at me. No matter, my skipping and slapping my ankle while screaming, “Whoopa!” continued unabated with the passion of heaven.

After five minutes of doing this I got tired and just stood there staring down the crazy looking shaman and screamed, “You ain’t got shit on me, savage.”

As I uttered that last word I noticed something pierced my shoulder. I glanced over and realized it was a wooden dart without a stone or metal point. Instinctively, I grabbed and pulled it out of my flesh. It didn’t penetrate very deep; I raised the dart into the air as if it was my trophy but then noticed I was losing my energy quick. I collapsed.

The next thing I remember is awakening outside with the sun shining and a plate of meat in front of me, while wooden horns blasted all around me. I then realized whatever that dart was laced with wasn’t meant to kill, but only to tranquilize.

The whole tribe cheered. At first I was absolutely dumbfounded and wondering if this is what heaven was like. But I then realized I’m probably not dead and they probably think I’m some kind of god or something… After all, they’ve never been contacted by modern man and no one has probably ever pulled such a stunt while having the bone pointed at them.

Needless to say, I teared into that pile of meat in front of me. Hell if I knew what it was, but it tasted a lot like pork and was probably some kind of wild pig. Tasty.

After I inhaled enough meat to feed a small village, I started to pay more attention to the natives. They were skipping and slapping their ankles just like I had done the day before! A huge joy erupted in the pit of my stomach as I realized not only did I make contact with a tribe who’s never been contacted before, but I’ve managed to make them believe I’m some kind of god with powers and shit. This has got to go down as one of the top three days of my existence!

As I was taking it all in, I began to hear what seemed like a chopper. In response I blurted out, “What the f@ck is a chopper doing out here?! Get the hell outta here, I’m a god to these people, and they feed me well.”

The noise gradually got louder and I soon saw it approaching. It slowly lowered into the opening of land. The natives gathered below it, pointing their arrows at it. I ran over and tried to communicate as best I could to put the arrows down by waving my arms and getting in front of them. They seemed to understand and retreated into the forest while I stood there realizing that the Brazilian government must have put a chopper out looking for me.

It landed and Philippe got out of the chopper and called me over, “Bamboo, get the hell outta there!” I ran over and jumped through the open door of the chopper. The door closed immediately and the chopper raced into the sky.

Philippe was about to say something to me, but then the rescue worker took a look at me as we were ascending and said,

“You’re one crazy son of a bitch, Bamboo.”

“I am, aren’t I.”

Illustration by Lucia672