Holidays in Hell: In Which Our Intrepid Reporter Travels to the World's Worst Places and Asks, "What's Funny About This" by P. J. O’Rourke Read Free Book Online Page A

each other. Then they gathered themselves and rushed the ticket
seller again. He grew purple with shouting, reloaded, fired again. The crowd moved away and back like surf. Then with one great
surge they chased him on top of a truck.

    Most of these people had been camping at Jezzine, if that's the
word for sleeping in the streets for days with your children and no
food. They were desperate and fully insane. The crowd began
running against itself, into walls, up the sides of buildings.
    I was at a loss. I might be at Jezzine still if my arm hadn't been
grabbed by someone who said, "I ken you're new here." It was a
magnificent Scotswoman, tall, thin and ramrod straight. With her
was a gentle-looking Lebanese girl. The woman was Leslie Phillips, head of the nursing school at a medical center near Sidon.
She was on her way to get textbooks in Beirut. The girl was named
Amal, the same as the militia. It means "hope." She was headed to
America for-college.-
    Miss Phillips placed us in a protected corner and said, "I'm
going to speak to the man with the gun. I always go straight for the
man with the gun. It's the only way you get anywhere in this
country." She vanished into the melee. The crowd went into a
frenzy again and made right for Amal and me. I suppose I would
have been filled with pity if I'd been in a second-story window. As
it was I was filled with desire to kick people and I gave in to it.
    Miss Phillips was gone for two hours. She emerged from the
donnybrook perfectly composed and holding three bus tickets. I
asked her what all the shooting was about. "Oh," she said. "that's
just Lebanese for `please queue up."' An ancient horrible Mexican-looking bus pulled into the crowd smacking people and punting them aside. Amal was carrying a co-ed's full complement of
baggage in two immense suitcases. I handed my kit bag to Miss
Phillips, grabbed these and made for the bus. Or tried to. Three
steps put me at the bottom of a clawing, screeching pile-up, a
pyramid of human frenzy. I heard Miss Phillipss voice behind me.
"Don't be shy," she said, "it's not rude to give a wee shove to the
Lebanese." I took a breath, tightened my grip on the suitcases and
began lashing with Samsonite bludgeons at the crowd of women,
old men and children. If you ask me, it was pretty rude, but it was
that or winter in South Lebanon. I fought my way to the side of the
bus. There was a man on top loading luggage and kicking would-be
roof rack stowaways in the head, knocking them back on top of the crowd. I hoisted one of Amal's fifty-pound suitcases onto my head,
waved a fistful of Lebanese money at the loader, kept hold of Amal
with my other hand and fended off the mob with both feet. This
doesn't sound physiologically possible, but it was an extreme
situation.

    I got both suitcases on top at last. Then we had to scrimmage
our way to the bus door in a flying wedge, Miss Phillips leading the
way. Just as we were getting aboard, a worse brawl yet broke loose
in the throng. One of the South Lebanon Army guards leapt into the
middle of it and began beating people in the face with the butt of
his pistol. The crowd exploded. Miss Phillips was heaved inside. I
was squashed against the bus door and lost hold of Amal, who was
sucked into the maw of the Lebanese. Miss Phillips reached out the
bus window and tapped the pistol-whipping soldier on the arm.
"Pardon me, lad," she said, "but those two are with me."
    The soldier left off his beating for a moment, pushed me into
the bus and fished Amal out of the crowd. I pulled her inside, and
the soldier went back to hitting people. Everyone in the crowd was
yelling. I asked Amal what they said. "They're all claiming to be
someone's cousin," she sighed.
    About two hundred people were packed inside the bus, which
was built to carry fifty. More kept wiggling in through the windows.
It was well over 100 degrees in there. Every now and then a soldier
would get in and