The Worst Journey in the World
Aspley Cherry Garrard was the youngest member of the Scott Polar Expedition when he and two others lost their tent to the winds of a night-time snowstorm. They spent hours in temperatures below -70°F stumbling about the ice floes hoping they'd bump into it as it was their only hope of survival.
OK, so that was bad, but we reckon you've had worse. We know how hard you lot are.
( , Thu 7 Sep 2006, 12:40)
Aspley Cherry Garrard was the youngest member of the Scott Polar Expedition when he and two others lost their tent to the winds of a night-time snowstorm. They spent hours in temperatures below -70°F stumbling about the ice floes hoping they'd bump into it as it was their only hope of survival.
OK, so that was bad, but we reckon you've had worse. We know how hard you lot are.
( , Thu 7 Sep 2006, 12:40)
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Dubai.
A colleague and I, a few years ago. We come out of the place in town we'd had a meeting, and there's a taxi rank right next door outside a shopping mall.
It's July in Dubai... very hot, very humid. Not comfortable at all outdoors fully clothed. So we dash to the front cab and pile in, announce our destination and sit back...
...at which point we spot the little signs we'd missed in our haste - fake fur seat covers, the drivers' dreadlocks, the plastic model spliff and the picture of Haile Selassie hanging from the mirror.
The driver was very laid back. Just a touch too fucking laid back to be driving anything.
He drove the whole 20 minute journey without his hands ever touching the wheel. One hand on the handle above the door, the other on the gear stick, steering with his knees. Including negotiating a couple of clover-leaf highway junctions. At speed.
I really didn't think we'd make it.
( , Fri 8 Sep 2006, 22:12, Reply)
A colleague and I, a few years ago. We come out of the place in town we'd had a meeting, and there's a taxi rank right next door outside a shopping mall.
It's July in Dubai... very hot, very humid. Not comfortable at all outdoors fully clothed. So we dash to the front cab and pile in, announce our destination and sit back...
...at which point we spot the little signs we'd missed in our haste - fake fur seat covers, the drivers' dreadlocks, the plastic model spliff and the picture of Haile Selassie hanging from the mirror.
The driver was very laid back. Just a touch too fucking laid back to be driving anything.
He drove the whole 20 minute journey without his hands ever touching the wheel. One hand on the handle above the door, the other on the gear stick, steering with his knees. Including negotiating a couple of clover-leaf highway junctions. At speed.
I really didn't think we'd make it.
( , Fri 8 Sep 2006, 22:12, Reply)
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