Jordan
November 1998, just after Bill Clinton passed the Iraq Liberation Act of 1998 my family decided it would be a good idea to go on holiday to Jordan. It was - there were next to no other forreners and locals were extra friendly to us lest they let the troubles completely kill the tourist trade.

Except for one 'incident' that could have been.

One day, a guide decided that part of the tour included showing us where some special scene or other from Lawrence of Arabia was filmed. We all climbed into Jeeps, and headed off into the desert.

The ride was a bumpy one, and we were being jolted back and forth as the driver kept his foot to the floor. All of a sudden, the cars stopped, just behind a big dune/hill thing, where no one could see us. We were completely out of view from the nearby town, with just a grinning driver and apologetic guide. Why had we stopped?

"Puncture."

We looked at the wheels, they were all fine. Now, it is worth bearing in mind that the trip was almost cancelled - while Jordan itself wasn't particularly affected, there were those who weren't looking all that kindly towards westerners, especially Americans, and well, to some people Brits and Americans are very alike.

Oh shit. We had been driven there to be killed.

I was somewhat naive at that time, and having never been to a desert before I was somewhat excited and didn't really pick up on the concerns of those around me.

I went for a walk, by myself, into quite literally the middle of nowhere, while everyone else was slightly concerned about madmen jumping out and shooting them. I got some great photos though.

Needless to say (and to cut a long story short) that didn't happen. Another Jeep turned up half an hour later, I returned to the convoy, and the engine troubles were fixed - in the broken english of our driver "puncture" meant any problem with a vehicle.

The one American that was with our group demanded a whisky when he got back to the hotel. It was Ramadan at the time, before sunset and, well, it was Jordan and it was alcohol he wanted.

Part of me wishes they had shot him. Bit of a non-story really, but I'll dig out the photos.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Sun 10 Sep 2006, 9:01, Reply)