I did something rather foolish on Friday; something some of you might know as just another typical Siller story. It had all the classic elements (good intentions, fowl play, disastrous outcomes on someone else’s behalf, extreme guilt, and then a happy ending). So it goes a little something like this:

My friends in DC have been planning a tubing and camping trip in Shenandoah National Park for this weekend and I was excited to be in town and able to join them. There were 25 of us going and emails had been flying back and forth over the last couple of weeks building enthusiasm. I sent this email, which summarizes my excitement and preparation for the trip.

I just got back from target and the costume shop for this weekend. I got some basics…to include:

Shitloads of velveta mac and cheese for our contribution dish.
chex mix
secret snacks for late night (animal crackers in the kids box)
granola bars
fruit roll ups
2 cases of capri suns
(I’m in a health kick)

I also bought a bunch of balls. football, soccer, frisbee, and almost one of those big play rubber balls you sit on and knock little kids over with, but it wouldnt fit in my car. I did get some nascar fold up chairs and dorky aqua socks that I’m pumped about.

I also got some citranella camping torch things. I had to put back Twister and the bottled water b/c I thought they were erroneous.

At the costume shop I got some crazy hats and sunglasses we’ll save for this weekend so I’ll keep hush, other than the fact one of the sunglasses takes batteries, has windshield wipers and sparkle lights. Gonna be hot.

I havent come up with a branding theme for the trip yet, but I’m working on that. I didnt get the coozies, as b asked, b/c I just didnt. that’s yall’s project.

I have 5 road trip cds I burned this week (to include the new coldplay cd and a great ‘indie’ mix) so I do recommend you ride with us.

I started thinking, “what else can I do to cement this trip into epic proportions”. I thought about some of the pranks George Clooney likes to pull off, click here to read, and came up with idea that if I could procure and secure some animals, if I could conveniently wait until a couple of people go to sleep Saturday night, then I could slip those animals into their tent, causing a rude awakening and raucous laugh for all those still awake.

After first I thought about a common snake (boa, python, rat snake) but I thought that would be too expensive, a crazy shock, and just a little too much for people who I only casually knew. I went over to Petco on Friday and decided it was going to be mice.

I purchased 10 white feeder mice, knowing all I had to do was to keep them alive that night and during the tubing portion of the trip. (I was going to secretly stash them in a locker while we were on the water.) Petco asked very few questions when I asked for 10, only commenting that I must have a lot of snakes. I didn’t feel like answering questions or stating that these were going to be used as a part of a practical joke, because they might not be inclined to sell them to me, so I just smiled and nodded, knowing these mice would get to run free in the woods at the termination of the joke.

They gave them to me in a thin cardboard fold-up box. I asked for a little food to keep them busy over the next 24 hours.

I went back to my hotel and packed my stuff, leaving the mice in the box in my car in underground parking for a couple of hours. I was planning on crashing in DC that night and leaving early morning for the tubing trip.

I should have picked up the first sign of trouble when I got back to my car, because sitting on the passenger seat, looking at me with a tilted head, was a beady eyed white mouse who had escaped from a crack in the top of the self assembled cardboard box. Dang-it, they can squeeze through anything.

I quickly reached over and grabbed him by the tail. The good news about these feeder mice is that they are ‘farm raised’ so are not so street smart and skittish. I put him back in the box, counted the remaining mice, totaling 10, and ensured that there were no cracks anywhere in the box as I closed it. For some reason, double checking to ensure the box was ‘secure’ was reassuring to me at this point.

I arrived in town at my friends place, the one who recently purchased a new condo. This was my big mistake. I didn’t think I could leave the mice in my car because of the heat, so I snuck them upstairs, disguising the petco box in a target bag.

When I arrived at the apartment, she didn’t realize I had brought in rodents, thankfully. I secured them in the corner and we went and met up with friends in Dupont Circle. I starting thinking bad thoughts while we were out, like, what if they were to escape the box? That could be a disaster. I pushed through with the power of positive thinking.

Later that night we went back to the apartment and my worst fear had come true.

We walked in and she screamed, saying, “Oh my god, there’s a mouse!”

Scurrying across the floor right in front of us was one of my white mice. I immediately let out an, “Ohhhh Noooo”, and she looked at me stunned.

“What did you do?”, were the stern words that came out next.

“I, ummmm, wanted to pull this little prank tomorrow night, and needed a place to keep some mice until then, and ummmm, they must have gotten out.”

“You brought rodents into my new apartment? You brought RODENTS into my new apartment? You don’t bring mice in, you get them out. What is wrong with you?”, were the words that were coming out of her mouth…although these might be a little censored.

I chased after the mouse and grabbed it by the tail. I went over to the box and opened it, hoping, wishing, and praying that there were nine still inside. There were only three left, which meant six others had escaped and were pilfering around her place. They had gotten out by chewing a hole in the corner of the box.

What can you say at a moment like this? I tried to apologize and reassure to her that I wouldn’t stop until I found and caught them all.

Standing from the top of her coffee table, she concurred and said, “they better be sterile mice”. More talk of exterminators and other demands were entering my ears.

For those of you who have tried to catch a mouse, it’s not the easiest thing to do in the world. I began the search for the final six and found the first one under the computer table by a towel. He was resting and I picked him up easily.

I found the second in her closet and the third behind her dresser. The forth she found and pinned under a bowl in the hallway closet. I took the eight outside and let them go out back of her building. (I didn’t think it was the smartest thing to try and salvage them for the prank the next day. Cut your losses while you can, Matt.)

When I arrived back upstairs, the 9th was hiding behind the kitchen cabinets, finding his way into a small crack underneath. It was impossible to reach in or take apart to catch this thing, so I became a little nervous. He would peak his head out occasionally, but when he saw me or the light, would retreat to safety.

I heard about leaving peanut butter out as a lure, and I knew he hadn’t had any water, so I put some peanut butter and water in a bowl and left it nearby to get him out from behind the counter. If he went into the bowl, I would trap him inside.

I must have waited for an hour, him teasing me with exposure every so often. Eventually he made his way out, and I slammed my hand down trying to grab him, my heart racing. I missed him and he scurried back to safety under the stove. This went on for some time. My friend went to bed, in shock, awe, and anger.

I started horse whispering to the mouse, trying to lure him out with my sweet and comforting voice, but to no avail. I kept thinking about the Beverly Cleary children’s book I used to read, The Mouse and the Motorcycle, about Ralph the mouse, and I imagined a mouse scurrying past me on his red motorcycle. Everywhere I looked, I thought I saw a mouse. It was late night maddening.

Somehow, and I still don’t know how, the mouse came out and I cornered him and got him by the tail. I put him in a plastic cup and covered it with paper towels and started celebrating, saying “Only one left! Only one left!”

Right as this happened I saw the last one race across the floor, against the wall in her bedroom. I trapped him in the corner and picked him up.

A huge sigh of relief and simultaneous adrenaline passed over me. I took out the last two mice and came back into the place with a smile. I couldn’t believe we had caught seven escaped mice in a little under two hours.

She really didn’t share my enthusiasm for the unbelievable, but did keep a surprisingly mature perspective on the situation. I know most people would not have allowed me into their place again.

Needless to say, the prank didn’t make it to the camping trip, but the rains did, causing a really incredible tubing experience, but a rain out mockery of camping. There’s always next time!

In the meantime, any future pranks must be thought out more clearly and without danger or peril for my friends’ possessions or well-being. Wait a second, isn’t that exactly what a prank is supposed to invade in the first place?

I’m going to comment on the title of this blog because I know some of you are probably saying, “Matt, stop being self-righteous and weird”. The title evolved after I created the image of me hanging from the magnifying glass over the map. Yes, as Simon, a friend of mine from my France trip has recently commented, the image has a striking resemblance to his blog. I’ll simply say that very few good ideas are original; I liked his, so Simon, conceptual credit is yours.

I’m tired of recreating a new blog for every trip or phase, so I’m trying to make this one be the catch-all for anything I do and write in the reasonable future. In the image I wanted some sort of map, because that’s a basic theme. I created the image and then had a brainstorming session for titles that included all sorts of one-line catch phrases but just weren’t getting the tone of what I wanted. Whenever I have a moment to crack the Wordpress theme’s code to this blog, I will insert the following synopsizing phrase (and finish the blogs layout): “This blog will witness my stories and insights as a 20/30 something traveling journeyman, student, writer, and nomad.”

With the image created and that summary in mind, I came up with Magnifying Misadventure. I’m taking a risk with this particular blog because, in general, websites and weblogs are usually more successful when you target a specific area. This keeps your writing focused and sets expectations for the readers.

Since I’m currently in limbo and all over the place, the best I can offer is misadventure. I’ve had a fairly lucky last few years regarding my ability to travel, and I expect that to stay consistent over the next couple of years, so in this effort I present a personalized travel/lifestyle blog.

‘Staining Time’ is a term I came up with after one of my trips to NYC. It materialized in a poem (you can read here) written afterwards and the term has stuck with me. In one line of the poem I write “the pavement’s stained with time”, which is referring to the stains on many of the Manhattan streets, in particular thousands of black gum marks embedded into the sidewalks. It was profound for me to think about how many people have walked these streets and how many of those have actually dropped their gum over the course of the pavement’s existence.

I liked the term. I applied this concept to my blog and my life because I think time is very capable of staining people. All of a sudden, you wake up and it’s 10 or 20 years later. You’re graying or wrinkling or growing massive amounts of unwanted hair. Your body is a visual realization that time is staining you.

I feel like in my own plight I currently try to flight back. Sure, time can and will stain me, but not without me making an effort to stain back with my own gum marks (good or bad), ensuring I’m attempting to live every moment. I have an utter fear that I will wake up one day and say, where did the years go? My “misadventures” are my reactionary attempt to stain back this absolute friend, Mr. Time.

It is in this light that the nomenclature evolved and guides my writing approach. I’m going to go listen to the new Coldplay album now.

Yesterday, I went to a rooftop party in the Adams Morgan district of DC. This area is a sought after area to live because in DC standards, it seems to be the most edgy and multicultural in an otherwise square town. It’s also fairly parky and green which adds to the appeal. My friend, Nancy, just purchased a place there and was having folks over to celebrate this stressfully momentous occasion.

All was fun except for the blanketing heat, which was clocked around 100F but with the humidity seemed about 150. We decided to embrace rather than run from it and sweat profusely the whole afternoon, rehydrating ourselves with cool, 12- ounce beverages that have been known to dehydrate.

I get reality checks that I’ve hit DC when conversations turn political. One girl at the party was at the Clinton campaign closing speech earlier during the day, cried in sadness at her loss, and then recanted the story and speech highlights to us in full. Afterwards we went around the group and spoke about how charismatic Bill is when he speaks. It was a general consensus that if you happen to be in the first 10 rows at one of his speeches, his eye contact is so compelling that you genuinely believe he is speaking to you and only you.

Somehow the conversation then turned into the disaster that would happen if the US Postal Service ever went away, because apparently UPS and FedEx just can’t hold the same flame. One of our friends, Dan, works as a consultant to the USPS and told a story how his girlfriend, Kelly, had a problem and was upset with the USPS over a package that was delayed. Dan happened to know the email address for the Postmaster General (the top dog) and gave it to Kelly to make a formal but pleasant complaint.

She emailed him and I shit you not, the next day there was a knock on her door with a man in a government suit accompanied by the lady at the post office counter who handled her account. They had her package in hand and offered it to her with apologies. I guess it helps to know the email address of the Postmaster. The funny part of the story is that they asked Kelly, politely, what was in the package. She felt a little silly at this point because it was her mail order doggy doo bags that you use to clean up the mess during a walk.

The rooftop party turned cool because we watched surrounding thunder and lightening storms brewing as the orange-red sun set behind the National Cathedral. Massive energy. In the words of a good friend, “Beautiful”.

Anyway, I’ve seen two really good movies that I highly recommend and should be required watching. The first, “Bigger, Stronger, Faster”, an independent documentary showcasing the reasons, causes, and effects of steroid use in the US, is an enlightening insight into our culture, basically saying steroid use is a side effect of our overall desire to be the best, live the American dream, and reach the top.

It discusses our self-set double standard by providing examples of quasi-accepted “performance enhancements” in industries other than sports (students taking Adderall to increase concentration, musicians taking anti-anxiety medicine to perform better, military pilots taking a form of speed to stay awake and concentrate on long missions, and of course other forms of steroids doctors prescribe in various medical capacities to improve our bodies). Athletes have taken the blunt of the negative press because they are most easily recognizable role models, but it transcends so many other industries and into the core of our culture.

The movie also discusses the effects (physically, morally, and socially) of using any of these enhancements and discusses a number of personal cases, to include Arnold and Sylvestor’s. Whether you call it cheating or not, most people will accept the risk and physical side effects that occur when taking any unnatural substance, and also the social risk that may or may be placed on you, for the gain or reward of being the best, or in some cases, simply being able to earn a living and to provide for a family in the often highly competitive environment that this country breeds. In an ideal world, everyone competes fairly and naturally. But we live in a far from ideal world, and as a society we often accept some form of ‘cheating’ by others in order to be the best. When it crosses the line is when this acceptance trickles down and impacts our children. It’s a great movie, a very interesting and complete look into this issue.

The other movie is called Surfwise, a unique movie about the life of Dorian “Doc” Paskowitz, a doctor who quit his job, bought an RV, married, and raised and educated 10 kids from this vehicle, moving around the country and surfing every day. It’s a compelling story of anti-establishment much like Into the Wild. He simply tries to remove himself and his family away from the societal ills in search for unified, purified, happiness within themselves, as a family, and with nature. This, of course, worked for a while, but had incredible impact on the family over the years. Good film.

That’s about all I have to say today. Still waiting on news from Chad. In the meantime, enjoying the fruits of DC.

I’ll kick off this blog with a story of my departure from France, arrival back into the States, and surprise news on my summer plans as they are a doozy. I was scheduled to depart Montpellier last Sunday morning at 7am and arrive in DC that afternoon. Making this flight was critical because I had notified my company that I would be ready to work Monday morning. (Some people are smarter and schedule arrival downtime.)

Early morning departures are never easy. When I took my 24-hour trip to NYC several weeks ago, I made the same flight out of Montpellier and just stayed out all night with friends, stumbling exhausted to the flight. This time I slept.

When I woke the next morning and walked to the taxi area at the train station at 5am, there were no taxis. (The airport is 20 minutes outside of town and requires taxi service.) There was a line of 10 drunk people and others walking around trying to get home from their nights’ festivities. I got a little stressed. I managed to talk my way to the front of the line, but every time a taxi came people ran around the corner to meet it, cutting off people like me waiting at the stand. About 45 minutes before my flight took off, a car of obnoxious hooligans pulled up and were chatting with a guy they knew in line.

They saw me waiting with beaucoup de luggage, and their eyes lit up. They asked if I wanted a ride. “We will taxi you to the airport”, they said. I thought how bad of an idea it was, as the driver was looking young and shady, smoking a cigarette as it rained.

I said no way, but looked again at my watch and thought this was my last chance. Sometimes in life I suppose we have to take risks. Hitchhiking at 6am in the morning with a couple of glazy Frenchies was a good way to start. They wanted 50 euros and I said ok (it was a reasonable cost). They kicked out three friends and piled my stuff and I inside. They wouldn’t shut up the whole way to the airport, talking mostly about soccer in French, Spanish, and broken English, and other stuff I couldn’t understand. Somehow, thank you karma, these guys got me there on time and without theft, rape, or harm. I was the last one to board the plane.

I made the long flight in the middle seats and arrived in DC on time. I should have checked my work email before I left for the plane, though, because I touched down, made it to my hotel (wondering why my car and hotel had been cancelled), checked my email, and realized that the proposal had been delayed and my company didn’t need me here for another month.

I wasn’t flying back to France at this point. Not two hours later I discovered that they had other work for me in mind. I was excited until I heard the location, which wasn’t DC, where I had originally planned spending the summer. As it happens, I am scheduled within the next couple of weeks to travel back to Africa, this time to Chad (neighbors to Sudan), for 6-8 weeks to kick off a UN project.

It should actually be pretty interesting, especially since they think I now speak French. I’ve already been given an agreement (written in French) between the UN and Chadian government that I’m supposed to translate to English. I didn’t think I would be regretting my lack of studiousness in France so soon, but at least I can put to use the language this summer.

More news and information to come about this trip. It will give this blog a good kickstart because I’m going apart of an advance team with a group of about five people and we will be the first ones in country to help kick off a UN peacekeeping mission, which will be interesting. (Problems of Darfur refugees overflowing into Chad have influenced this need.)

Back to Africa so soon. I can’t get away from the Sand.