Banned in Pittsburgh

I did some advising of the yearbook while doing the Semester at Sea thing. After we submitted the book for publication, the Institute for Shipboard Education in Pittsburgh informed us that two of the little tidbits in the yearbook were not quite in keeping with the SAS mission. One was written by Blueberry Ben Hovland, but it just so happens that I had written the other (although I had credited it to "Anonymous"). I was asked to submit a new piece, which people in the know will find in the Fall 1998 SAS Yearbook. Here, for the first time anywhere, are the two pieces "Banned in Pittsburgh":

from the Malaysia section...

Once upon a time, I ventured to a small island known as Langkawi, which is located in the country often referred to as Malaysia. While my shipmates and I enjoyed the beautiful beaches and scenery that made up our island paradise, I had a desire for a beverage to match this utopian environment. In the hours that followed this revelation, I acquired the assistance of our trusty bartender Sofey. It was in this environment that various fruit juices and nectars were combined with rum and a touch of paradise, creating something that could only be known by one name. The "Langkawi Wowie" was born and will forever be a symbol of my journey to the small island known as Langkawi in the country often referred to as Malaysia.

- Ben Hovland

from the Turkey section...

So there we were. She and I standing by the side of the road with a greater appreciation of SAS's policy outlawing the rental of motorized vehicles. But we had to do it. The weather had washed away our hopes of a hot air balloon ride, essentially forcing us to rent a motor scooter for the day.

We took turns at the helm, with no destination before us other than excitement and adventure. And we found both while sputtering to a stop just outside of Askular in the heart of the Cappadocia region. Even though the gas gauge was looking mighty "F," a glance into the tank revealed a shiny, stainless steel bottom--bone dry. With no place to go, we took the opportunity to spend an hour climbing the rocks of the hills around us.

Eventually a passing "Taski" helped me track down a 2 liter Pepsi bottle filled with benzene, while my companion stayed with the bike to ward off wandering carpet dealers. Once again on our way, we had a narrow escape from a roving pack of schoolchildren. But the worst was yet to come. As darkness settled, we found ourselves still forty kilometers from the safety and warmth of our pension. In a hurry to get back, since the only protection our eyes had was a pair of dark sunglasses, I flipped the headlight switch. And nothing happened. The right turn signal showed the same lack of life. And so, for thirty minutes, the weak and not-too-far reaching left turn signal served as the only warning to oncoming traffic that two Americans were present on the lonely stretch of road from Kaymakli to Urgup.

Maybe it was the blanket of the Otel Snowball beckoning me, but for some reason, I kept going. Even through two very near-death experiences, we kept motoring. Everything worked out okay, though, because we made it back to town. We even had some hot apple tea before calling it a day.

Despite, or more likely because of the day she and I shared exploring the countryside atop a Kinetic Honda DX Scooter, I will forever shout "Turkey!" whenever someone asks me which country was my favorite.

- Anonymous