Wednesday, June 27, 2012

The Secret of Suriname: Chapter II

Ben Hansen

Four hours of shaking and, briefly but memorably, screaming later, the landing came about, with the window seat's occupant turning his head to the window and quietly closing his eyes against the coming of the ground while the more medial man steadfastly refused to beg for a chance to see the sight.
This latest landing successfully ruined by both parties' pride, the duo found themselves disgorged with the rest of the plane's contents into Suriname's one international airport.
"What is Suriname, anyway?" Ben asked suddenly.
"What?" Hugh expertly countered.
"Well, is Suriname the country, or the city, or just this airport? For all I know, Suriname could just be the name of Muskenseseses estate and we could be in, like, Jersey."
"Why Jersey?"
"Why not Jersey?"
Hugh tried to put the unsatisfactoriness of this answer into a communicable form before giving up, pulling out his ultra-economical travel guide and replying, "Suriname's the country's name. This city is Paramaribo. The country's a republic, bordering French Guyana, Guiana, Brazil, Dutch Guyana, the Atlantic Ocean, Guianian Guyana, Guyanian Guiana, and... Huh."
"What?" Ben craned to read over his partner's luscious locks.
"And... Girl Ana, apparently." Hugh peered suspiciously at the page before him. "Well, if it hadn't said so, I would have."
"Or I," Ben agreed.
"But not I," confirmed a third voice, close enough to make them jump and spin, in Hugh's case in a single quite graceful movement that would have won him envious looks from several dancers, had any been around to envy.
The small, bespectacled man was not as close as the voice would have led them to believe, it apparently having preceded him by a few seconds. He was besuited, bespectacled and beheld - erm, held a sign saying "Ben Suriname" and "Hugh Du Nym", the names Ben and Hugh had chosen to bluff their way through the airport's security. For reasons not entirely understood, said pseudonyms had been written on said sign in a crayon colour which Ben's expert eye determined to be Magenta.
"Please come with me, sirs," the man's voice said, having apparently moved to the side a little to make space for its owner, now coming from a foot to his right.

No comments: