Back from our Whirlwind tour

And I thought I would share with you the screenplay I'm working on. I'm going to shop it to Harrison Ford, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas.


Scene: A dense, misty jungle somewhere in SE Asia. A light rain falls, but the jungle canopy is so close-in that the gathered people are not bothered by it. The camera pans across verdant green vines, trees, and brush, stopping briefly on a pile of sandstone blocks; they are chiselled, but aged, a small, collapsed ruin of an indeterminate type. Finally, the camera pans left to settle on the top of a hat, which is slowly replaced by the face of Indiana Jones as he looks up from a faded piece of parchment.

Indiana Jones: (looking back to his companion, holding the reins of a donkey) Sammy, if this map is correct, we should be about 100 yards from it. We have traveled far together, my friend, and lost many good men along the way. In a few moments, we will know whether it was worth it.

Sammy: Yes, sir. My father would be proud if he knew what his son has accomplished.

IJ: Sammy, I'm sure your father is looking down on you now. Let's finish this together old friend. We are about to set our eyes on a prize no human has seen in centuries.

IJ and Sammy hack their way further through the dense foliage, until they reach a stone wall, covered in vines. IJ cuts away the vines to reveal the outlines of a small door.

Sammy: (whispering) Indy, I don't think we are alone.

IJ turns to face a group of natives who have begun to surround the men. They are a small race, some look no older than 12 years old.

IJ: Stay calm Sammy, no sudden moves.

A native breaks away from the crowd and approaches Indiana and Sammy, hands held out towards the men. Cut to closeup of Indy and Sammy's faces, frozen with fear, then back to the native:

Native: Want to buy some postcards?

IJ: Sammy, don't make eye contact. These primitive tribesmen will interpret eye contact as an interest in making a purchase.

Native: Special price. Postcards for you. Where you from?

IJ: Sammy, DO NOT speak to him. Speaking directly to these people will only encourage their wrath.

Sammy: London.

IJ: Damn't Sammy, why?

Native: London. Very far away. David Beckham. You want postcard? Maybe when you come back?

IJ and Sammy try to back away slowly, but they are soon surrounded by the natives, their backs against the stone wall of the ancient temple.

Native #2: You want t-shirt? Cambodia T-shirt?

Native #3: Hey, where you from? You want Pepsi? Cigarettes? Whiskey?

Native #4: You want gems, ruby? Good price for you.

Okay, that's as far as I've gotten so far. I call it

'Indiana Jones and the Discounted Postcards of Doom.'

------------------------------------

Truth is, we saw some amazing things on our 1104 mile journey; it was a long drive, and quite a fun adventure, and it will be long in the retelling.

So, either come back over the next few days as I add pictures and stories, or go to hell. Those are your choices.

But I'll tell you what. The next few days will include spellbinding stories about derring do, thai tourists, 11-fingered drivers, dead animals, nekkid kids, incredible khmer ruins (and rebuilt temples), elephant prison, muddy, muddy roads, weiner schnitzel, collapsed bridges, kicking babies, roadside chicken, rainbows, whorehouses, and long hours in the car.