He made eye contact from across the room, sauntered over, and stood towering over me too close for comfort.

And when I thought the situation could NOT get more uncomfortable,

he whispered, `I wrote your name on my mirror last night´.
My mind was racing, and in the background noise of my realization I heard him continue,

`Kimberly is a difficult name to remember. There is nothing like it in Norwegian. So, I have been practicing it repetitively.´

Remaining calm, I collected my belongings and got out of there as fast as possible.

Keys in hand and ready to use if I needed to gouge an eyeball.

I made my way to the parking lot, constantly peering over my shoulder to insure I was not being followed, and I throughly scanned the car before I got in.

Mentally, I reviewed the 911 numbers of Norway.
110, no that´s the Fire Department, or is it the Ambulance?
Maybe 112 is the Police?
Shit!

113?

Dear Jesus, I´m dead.
WHY DOES EVERYTHING HERE HAVE TO BE SO DAMN DIFFICULT?
A feeling of relief did not sweep down my spine until I was several blocks from the gym and well on my way to the `bad rental´ we had just moved into.

The sad part is, it isn´t a rental.
We bought the place, site unseen, from the states.

THIS is home now,

and I have to figure out how to deal.

The day has to come that I stop living as

IF

I am on vacation.
At some point I must learn my phone number, buy a printer, and get over the fear of using the phone in a foreign country.

I must AT LEAST learn the damn 911 numbers!!!

BUT,

what I HAVE learned is

the longer the journey, the longer the way home.

The Horror of Reality Continued