Don’t make faces, you might get stuck that way.

[This story may in fact encompass the most embarrassing, funniest, and scariest moment of my life.]

The Classics Trip has been full of really great jokes, one of which had continued since back in Egypt. A system of labeling people as “frail” or “hearty” to delineate any and all illnesses was established by Jeanna Cook when over half the group got sick at the Pyramids. The “frail factor” is based on many things. Heartiness can be innate or achieved later in life. It is centered on a combination of physical, mental, and emotional strength, skills necessary to combat sickness, disappointment, and sheer bad luck. The way you deal with such hardships can affect your heartiness. It is possible to straddle the fence, and you can blame specific incidents on the “frail factor.” For example, if a “hearty” starts to feel less than satisfactory, we might blame it on rooming with “frails” or interacting with “frails.” It’s all about reputation. And jokes.

With said system, I have overcome the predictions of many and remained amazingly hearty. There has been little frail in me on this trip. And I pride myself in my heartiness. When everyone else developed colds, I confirmed my heartiness by avoiding sickness. When diarrhea set in on everyone after visiting third world countries, I stayed clear for the most part. I was even named “one of the heartiest of all classics trip participants” in the last weeks of the trip. My heartiness was pretty impressive. To an extent – all that changed three days before the end.

The trip ended with a week of exams at a chateau out in the boonies of France. Our group rented this manor, owned by an older guy who we refer to as “The General”. Toumazou rented one car – so four people could leave once a day, drive to a nearby village, and get groceries for the group. Other than that, we were quarantined.

Erika Weiberg and I had the luxury of ultimately getting an entire house to ourselves – complete with two stories, nice bathtub, washing machine, stereo system, full kitchen, pool, and a porch that provided a gorgeous view of the sunrise over the French plains. Let’s just say – we were in heaven.

On one specific night, around 10:00pm, we had finished eating dinner and were in the middle of a project – mint tea, hopefully made by boiling mint leaves for a few hours. It was during Erika’s time to stir the tea that I see Chris Vincoli passing by my window on the way to play some ping-pong. I take this as a perfect occasion to occupy the time with my usual leisure hobby – making obnoxious faces. With my face squashed against the window, I cross my eyes, flare my nostrils, and quite frankly look as unattractive as possible for comic effect. All the while, Vincoli shoots faces right back at me. Finding this pastime enormously amusing, I become more engrossed in the face-making competition that I had started. I pull out my screaming-rollercoaster face and go wild with raise-the-roof motions, still flattening my face against the window.

It was about 5 seconds into this expression that I come to the realization that I have lost control of the ability to shut my mouth. I am currently in the “WOW! photo” pose, which I had made a pattern on the trip with the goal of an entire WOW! montage by the end – It consists of yelling the word “WOW!”, looking stoked, and pointing in the direction of something cool, as someone takes a pic. As I turn around, in complete panic at my mouth being stuck open, I look at Erika, still stirring that mint tea. She smiles, thinking this is normal – I make faces all the time.

It was at this point that I realize – not only is my mouth stuck open, but also I have little ability to swallow, much less talk. Panic is setting in, and all I can think is: “I AM ABOUT TO BREAK MY JAW!!!!” Erika asks what happened, and the only motion I can get across is that I opened my mouth, and it got stuck that way. Erika takes this to mean that I yawned. I am in no state to clarify the truth – that I was actually making faces at Chris Vincoli – so I go with it.

I am literarily terrified as I find some paper and begin writing notes to Erika. [luckily I still have all these notes in my notebook, so I can type them verbatim.]

Note #1: Go get Stewart.

Erika RUNS, finds Stewart Knight, who is in the next house over, and relays the situation. Direct quote: “Stewart. Come quick. Anna Marie’s got her mouth stuck open!” Stewart’s reaction involves disbelief, laughter, and concern in conjunction with the phrase, “This is the best day of my life.”

She RUNS with Erika back to my house. Stew is very concerned, yet almost on the floor laughing because I look outrageous. They have no idea how to fix my problem, so we go through a rushed question/answer session involving me frantically writing things on paper.

Note #2: ERIKA! VIDEOTAPE THIS! STEALITHILY! [Up until this point I have videotaped all pivotal moments on the trip – this experience qualified as videotape-worthy, as serious as it was.]

They RUN to get Angela Soper, our resident mother-figure. At this point I have no way to deal with this situation other than laughing. I have mixed feelings that involve panicking from fear of possibly breaking my jawbone, suffering from the pain that is starting to set in (from having to use the muscle that holds your mouth open as wide as possible for way too long), and laughing hysterically because the situation was completely absurd. And everyone around can’t stop laughing because I look RIDICULOUS.

Stewart and Angela don’t know what to do. Angela calmly clutches my shoulder and says, “Anna Marie, you are going to have to stop laughing, or you are only going to make this worse.” My fear and humor at the situation are growing exponentially.

They RUN to get Toumazou, who RUNS to find The General, who gives him directions to a hospital. I RUN to the car, as Erika RUNS to find Anne Horn, so we have a French speaker with us for this emergency outing. Stew, Anne, Erika, Toumazou, and I load up in the car -- off to find a hospital!

Because we are out in the middle of nowhere, the roads aren’t exactly made for quick runs into town. We are moving at 145 km/hr, fishtailing sharp turns left and right. It is probably one of the scariest drives of my life, and not because my mouth was stuck open completely wide. The swinging back and forth at vigorous speeds makes swallowing almost impossible, so I kinda drooled into a towel. I can hardly make the muscles in my cheeks keep going, but I know it is the only option. We anxiously search for signs of a hospital.

30 minutes later, we arrive at the hospital, and after a violent parking job to accommodate my urgency, we RUN to the “l’urgencies” area. I speedily write down my birth date and Tennessee address, and wait outside. They rush me in, and with Anne-the-french-spreaker accompanying me, I lay on a stretcher.

Multiple doctors come in to see the sight, speaking French here and there. One in particular puts on gloves, and puts his thumbs behind my bottom teeth, fingers around my chin, and pushes the bottom of my face with all his might. It’s not going anywhere. Nope. My mouth will not close.

He speaks some French to another doctor, who comes in, and tells Anne he wants to put in something that sounded like a “cathetre”. I was accustomed to absurdity by this point, but can’t help but think “not a catheter!” After he repeats the word a few times, I realize that he means an IV is necessary. They put in an IV, shoot me some muscle relaxers, and get back to pushing on my jawbone. The next thing I know, I’m talking again. It’s over. They take out my IV, yadda, yadda.

I get up to leave and observe that the muscle relaxers have done a number to me. I can’t feel anything and can barely walk. Anne was the only reason I made it back to the car because I have no control over my body.

Once back at the chateau around midnight, my mouth being stuck open is a topic of convo. I still have little control over my muscles, and was told on later occasions that I acted “more drunk than anyone has ever seen me before.”

The next few days are full of video viewings and note readings from that night. It was an unbelievable series of events that have left me self-conscious of all yawns and face-making habits. Everyone else avoids faces now as well.

Since that time, I’ve continuously been poked fun at for having such a lame reason for my first ever visit to the emergency room. And for making faces. And for the implausible series of events of that night. And for various other reasons.

In addition, we’ve brainstormed the funniest places to get your mouth stuck open -- the eight-hour plane ride home and in a famous museum have topped the list thus far.

Note #3/moral of the story: Frail Factor Got Me.

buffalo cafe

A story from way back when…
Turkey was a li’l draining in that we had been going non-stop for eight weeks without breaks. spring break was in like 4 days. Spending all your time with a group of 22 people has its pros and cons… and let’s just say a few peeps were ranting that they needed a li’l alone time. I proudly announced that I didn’t find “alone time” necessary as long as I had George Michael. (At this point I had been listening to “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go” on repeat for about two full days… and was still going strong.) I really meant it too – anytime I felt too drained from lack of sleep/ long days of analyzing ancient rocks, I kicked out a li’l JITTERBUG, bopped around for a bit, and it worked magic. I mean it. No more being antsy on the bus. No desire to punch someone’s face. It really worked wonders.

After a morning at Ephesos, I spent much of lunch time quoting this song. As we waited in the buffet line at lunch, I said to Brad Bankos emphatically to “wake me up before you go go, and don't leave me hanging here like a yo-yo.” I told Jeanna Cook that she put the “Boom boom” into my heart. George Michael put me in the best mood ever.

[With no real relation to this story, I would like to note that Wake Me Up Before You Go Go is still cycling on my headphones as I type this story at this very moment. I’m just going through a phase.]

On one specific occasion, most people on the bus had conveniently conked out. I had decided to capitalize on my bus time to read some Herodotus, and jammed to none other than ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go Go’ on my headphones, envisioning that hyped up music video in my head. I turned the volume up higher than normal [mainly to tune out our Turkish tour guide who kept interrupting everyone’s sleep to tap on the mic and say, “I would like to recommend for you to look at the green grass to our right…” during our 6 hour bus ride… it had been a long day, ok?] I was doing my sway-snap dance move, as Chris Vincoli got my attention -- the music from my headphones had apparently gotten his.

Unbeknownst to me, I began talking in an excessively loud voice, probably waking up everyone.
Vincoli [laughing]: Are you listening to George Michael AGAIN?
Me: “WHAT?”
Vincoli [still laughing]: Do you have your music up kinda loud or something?
Me [becoming embarrassed]: WHY? AM I BEIN’ LOUD OR SOMETHING?

I was so confused, and I had no idea I was talking any louder than a whisper. I looked up and soon realized everyone within 7 rows was starting to stare… even Dr. Peter Krentz at the front of the bus (more amused than annoyed). And that’s when I realized… I was bamboozled.

Later that evening I checked my email to find urban dictionary rubbing in the experience by sending me “headphone syndrome” as the word-of-the-day.

Entry: Headphone Syndrome
Definition: When someone has their headphones on and they are too friggin loud so they think they have to yell to talk.
Example sentence:
Ralph: Hey do you wanna go to the movies?
Molly: WHAT?
Ralph: I said do you want to go to the movies?
Molly: I'M SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU. WHAT?
Ralph. Forget it man, you have a bad case of headphone syndrome.

This song extends beyond Turkey…
April 1, 2007.
Syracuse, Sicily, Italy
Appropriately, the group decided to April-Fools me today. Following Brad’s orders, everyone on the trip united to pull the “silent treatment” joke on me – thinking I would quickly catch on and wonder why no one was talking to me. (Little did they know that I had the perfect defense in place: Wake Me Up Before You Go Go, cycling through my head, is enough of a distraction to prevent me from noticing ANYTHING.)

Let’s just say no one said a word to me all morning… until around noon – when they completely broke down. Toumazou gave a short lecture at the theatre in ancient Syracuse, and immediately after - a group of people called me over, with embarrassed smiles on their faces. “Have you noticed anything today?” Oblivious to their prank, I shook my head “no,” looking confused as I removed George Michael from my ears.

Then they spilled the beans. And I was completely unconscious of any of it. Everyone in the group couldn’t believe I was unaware that I was receiving the “silent treatment,” and individually went into detail about our interactions that morning, apologizing profusely. They each explained the experience in terms of a psychological complex that had developed in their heads, and they had slowly but surely not been able to take the torture anymore - knowing they were making me “miserable”. Chris Beeston explained that he had silently offered me one of his cookies when I asked him what they tasted like. Katie Eastland told me she had carried on a whole “conversation” with me only by smiling. Others spent the entire morning avoiding any contact, being paranoid that I might say something that needed a response. Stewart couldn’t handle it and almost had an early breakdown. I hadn’t noticed ANY of it. By the end, they each felt as though they had committed some terrible atrocity, and then had to just sit and watch my suffering, the consequence of their own actions. Some felt that part of their souls had died. They explained that they had finally huddled and made the decision to tell me, because they all felt terrible about being so harsh to me. Needless to say they kinda April-Fooled themselves. Unconsciously, with the help of Wake Me Up Before You Go Go, I had performed the best April Fool’s joke of the day.

Fun facts about Italy/Europe for 3rd graders…

-Newspaper is printed on light pink paper.
-Meat is not the same. You will eat no steak here. Even if they have a few cows for beef, it never tastes like red meat from home. And I freakin’ miss meat.
-Instead of regular oranges, blood oranges/juice is much more popular. It tastes different and has bright red juice.
-When you ask for water to drink at restaurants, they often bring frizzante, or fizzy water.
-You will never have ice.
-Lotsa gelato. The REAL gelato test – check to see if the containers are metal (plastic is more likely to be store bought) and make sure the banana flavored is not yellow (that shows it is real bananas)
-Cultural differences include the proximity of people. For example, Italians do not seem as weirded out to be crammed together as other cultures. They are also quieter in general than Americans. Clothing is also a signal to a person’s culture. You can absolutely call out someone’s nationality based on what they are wearing. Americans are loud.
-everything’s older here – architecture, buildings in general, yadda yadda
-everything’s more expensive here
-Bathrooms at the hotel include a bidet – next to the toilet.
-Nutella is a European phenomenon. It’s everywhere [unlike peanut butter].
-Went to Capri, the island. Ate caprese, tomatoes with fresh mozz and olive oil.
-Went to Sorrento, the city. Ate gnocchi sorrentino, gnocchi with a tomato parm sauce.
-Went to Naples, the city. Ate pizza, in the home of pizza.
-Went to the Vatican for Easter. Saw the Pope.
-Hybrid cars and smart cars are everywhere. FIAT is the most popular car dealer.
-Shops/buildings close from around 1400-1700 for “siesta”. All the people take a nap or have coffee at a café. The lifestyle is more chill and seems less stressful cause people break every afternoon to sit around and chitchat.
-Continental breakfasts in Italy/France include coffee and bread. No more hard-boiled eggs or instant coffee served in Greece.
-When crossing the street in Italy, GO FOR IT! If you wait for a break in cars, you look stupid. Just walk in front of them, and they will stop. It’s a cultural thing, and each country has a different mentality on crossing the street.
-After eating at a restaurant, waiters don’t bring a check until you ask for it… people enjoy sitting around for hours to talk, and by bringing you a check, the service feels like they’re kicking you out. No need to rush after dinners in Europe.
-A restaurants, you do not follow America’ politeness rules of waiting for everyone to get their food to eat. People think you’re weird. Food comes out at different times, so ya just eat it when you get yours.
-Getting a cappuccino is a morning thing. Getting an espresso is more of an evening thing, a norm after dinner for digestive purposes. People know you’re an out-of-towner when you order a cappuccino at the wrong time of day.
-people can urinate in the streets with no legal repercussions. No one has to clean up after their dogs either. [probably not appro-pro for 3rd graders, but interesting nonetheless.]
-In America, a li’l gas station sorta place would have a name like “Smiley’s”. In Europe, they like to name them “Tabacchi Pizzeria Bar Restaurante…”

Tunisia
-Just took a five day trip to Tunisia – much cooler and greener than expected. Main reason it was on the classics trip itinerary was for its sweet mosaics.
-Everything is a mix of French and Arabic.
-Like 95% Muslim, if not more
-Very few American tourists
-It’s the #1 olive oil producer in Africa.
-Star wars was filmed here
-This might have been some of the best food on the trip. It was French/Tunisian.


Things to cook:
-Couscous, Tunisian style
-Hot tea boiled with fresh mint leaves
-Arancini – fried ball of dough with rice ragu stuff in the center
-Prosciutto on everything
-Ribollita – florentine bread soup
-Beans with barley and rosemary