Is it possible to die from a panic attack induced by lack of technology in an impossibly hot village which doesn’t stock Coke? Diet Coke, we mean, or just regular Coca Cola.
As laughable as it sounds to some of you, it is very possible.
Bouncing along the Corentyne River in the afternoon sun, with the cool breeze cancelling the effects of the heat on your exposed skin and a bottle of Coca-cola Light (not Diet Coke but a good substitute) in your hand, you couldn’t be bothered about what is waiting for you at the end of that two-hour trip.
As your still frosty Coke slides down your throat, giving you a true taste of heaven, you imagine it can only be beauty. You pat your bag just to make sure that the soon-to-be worthless pieces of plastic you bothered to fetch are intact never once guessing they would soon be nothing but deadweight.
As the boat bounces nearer your destination and you get your first real glimpse of the landscape you can’t believe you’ve been missing such simple pleasure all your life. You’re finally there and you haven’t noticed the heat yet because you’re so excited by the sights that greet you.
You look around at the simple layout of the village before you; you smile at the clean stretch of beach visible just beyond some trees and you feel wonderful to know that there really are places like this left on earth. Momentarily, you compare it with the stench that never leaves the city where you spend most of your workaholic life.
It is one of those moments in life you just have to share with someone; so you grab the cellular phone in your pocket, flip it open and that’s when you get the shock of your life. No signal. Your phone doesn’t even say “Network unavailable”; it’s just a nightmarish blank screen glaring at you.
You stare blankly for a minute and you begin to feel the heat beating against your skin as you wonder if your eyes are somehow malfunctioning. Did you eat enough breakfast? No signal? You moan this question repeatedly, stupidly. You look at your poor forestry buddy (stupid enough to offer you his company) and you stutter, “Coke, I need Coke. I need a cold Diet Coke right now.”
He looks at you with this expression that screams, “Are you retarded?” And that’s when you realize you wouldn’t mind dying in the middle of the Atlantic just so long as you could scrounge some signal for your phone. Wait a second, if you’re not getting signal for your mobile then you sure as hell aren’t getting signal for your computer.
Okay, you reason with yourself, things will be fine. You begin walking behind your buddy striving to look normal, trying to pretend that you hadn’t just landed in your personal hell where your technological devices are useless and you feet as though your world had just ended. Don’t panic, you chant, even as the panic sets in, in earnest and there’s no nerve calming Coke to gobble down.
You become half insane. That’s what happens to a Coke addict who suffers a panic attack due to lack of technology. Someone lets slip that if you climb “the hill” you’ll get signal and you try not to scream like a mad person as you drop your bags and head straight to that promise of signal.
Well, you get to the top and the signal isn’t good but it’s something. You cringe when you see how much you’re paying for a minute of talk but, hey, your sanity is priceless.
“Can you hear me?” is not something you want to be asking after a steep five-minute hike that you thought would lead to heaven. It sure as hell isn’t a question you want to be asking while the blood is still pounding against your temple from that climb and you know you’re paying $400 a minute.
You probably did go insane after all! You climbed a hill, it should’ve been cheap. (srh.midnight@gmail.com)
