Through no encouragement or fault of my own, one of the Mayan workers who is helping us at the site has fallen madly in like with me. He was overwhelmed by the charm and grace that I naturally ooze. My gift is my curse, I know. He never stood a chance. Now, I'm not going to complain if you want to flirt and hey, you want to tell your buddies that I'm in to you? No skin off my nose, have at it. You want to pick up my bar tab in the afternoon? Barkeep - send another cold one my way. Thats all fine. But when I'm taking fieldnotes and you come over and grab my hand? Or I'm excavating something to delicated I have to wear a dust mask and use toothpicks and you come over and pull my pony tail? Oh hell no, son. I go from mild mannered archaeologist to fire breathing death harpy. Thats right. I flip out so hard it makes usual-me look mild mannered. Thank God that I couldn't reach the pick. I would have been excavating his brain from his skull. Doc has suggested to him that he might find a better place to spend his free time than within my grasp. Can somebody send me the number for the embassy down here? They can get me out of prison right?
I'm walking down the street in San Ignacio and this slightly crazy older gentleman comes up to me. I nod and smile, no reason to be a grump right? He leans in close and asks me if I know how "he" is doing. I kind of tilt my head and asked who "he" is. He gets closer and goes "Michael Jackson...he's in your pocket". I kind of giggle....back up a little bit. He shuffles closer. Repeats his question. I told him he was doing well. The old man nods and reminds me to feed him once a day and he walks off. Really? Well all righty then.
15 days down, 15 to go
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