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High Spirits at High Volumes
The night of sleep before a new week of riding. We all know the intensity and insanity that will soon begin. The faces around camp look rested, relaxed and recharged at last. The sleep before a new week is an important one as it is the last few hours of recharge before the battery runs dry once more. Our tents are looking less like little colorful blimps protruding from the sand, and more like a continuous texture covering the courtyard from wall to wall. We’re nearly sharing tent pegs. We might as well be sleeping in one big circus tent, (it would be appropriate no?) as casual commentary and conversation easily passes from one tent to the next.
All are to bed fairly early, being ever so carefully quite as to not disturb their neighbor, and soon enough the tour is sleeping like little babies. It’s an hour until wake up, a time far too early for most as it stands, with small rustling here and there, those half in sleep hold on tight to any last drops of shut eye to be had. The city slowly wakes outside with the odd car horn, or diesel truck engine chugging past the camp, but still the only sounds heard from camp are the odd tent zipper sliding or sleeping bag rippling.
Next thing , as any good story must go, disaster strikes in an instance. Shaken out of bed with a blasting from a megaphone with speakers so blown I’m sure even the locals cannot understand what is being said. It’s so loud that even at 5:00 in the afternoon this sound would be obnoxious to any ears, but no, it is 5:00 in the morning, and this is simply prayer time in Luxor. The source of our mege blasting of wholesome denominational wisdom is not even a block away, just high enough for the sound to bounce into our courtyard and rattle back and forth and back and forth to distort and seemingly amplify itself even further.
There’s no pretending now. Everyone is awake.
“Oh yeeeaaa!! Thank You!!! Give us more!! “ yells Peter competing with the volume of the prayers.
Thank heavens someone can see the humor in this, accepting reality as what it is, as it certainly wasn’t getting any better. The last hours of recharge have been taken and there is no more getting it back.
Peter continues, at full tilt “Come on! We can take it!! We’re on T.D.A!!” You said it Petey.
If this morning is any symbolic gesture of what is to come, let’s hope our humors stay on par.
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