Graduate School - Sections 1-3

Graduation.

Franny sat at the cafe window next to the espresso cart. She was looking out the window, twirling one perfectly posed brunette ringlet with her right hand. She was about to graduate from college with a Bachelor's degree in Art History. Her parents had been telling her since the beginning that the degree would be a waste of time.

“Franny, why don't you do something useful? Like Medicine or Psychology.” Her mother's shrill voice rasped condescendingly into her mind's ear.

“Mother, a Bachelor's degree in anything is the same as anything else. You think they let you become a doctor after two years of school?” Logic never failed to get lost on Franny's mother when money was potentially involved.

Now Franny was free from it all; her mother was hundreds of miles away. She was excited to graduate, but only during those few moments that panic was not playing tug-of-war with her brain. Had she planned on working at the Seven Eleven for the rest of her life? She took a deep breath.

In her left hand was the pamphlet she had gotten from her most recent job fair expedition. The booth had been much less flashy than all of the others; that's what had attracted her to it initially.
Adventure for pay? Sign up today! Signs above the booth had exclaimed. There were only a few other students gathered around the booth so Franny was able to take her time at the table. A sign up sheet for four, with only two other names, called to her from the crushed red velvet table cloth.

1. Bruce McGaffin Age 22
2. Melody Sanders Age 23

A shockingly small man with crumpled shoulders popped his head up from behind the table.

“Good day there miss!” The words kind of squeaked out of him; like he was a rubber toy that got smooshed by a boot.

“Oh... hello there.” Franny tried to cover the fact that the little man had startled her. She also attempted desperately not to stare at his strangely misshapen form; almost the way polio victims' limbs would grow shorter than the rest, this man's facial features were severely smaller than they should have been. Beady black eyes peered out from under a thick raised brow. And his bald head had been covered by a large tribal tattoo. The ink was in such a faded condition that Franny hadn't been able to decipher the illustration.

“We're offering better opportunities here than any of the other booths!” he cocked his head to the side and gave her a wink, “Sign up some friends and you get an even better deal!”

“What's your offer?” Franny had realized she may have had a rude tone to her voice; she felt horrible whenever she was impolite, “I mean... I'm interested, tell me more.”

To her surprise, after the little man gave his spiel, she was very interested. He had told her that for $350 dollars a week she could be exploring the Cambodian countryside for three whole months. The deal sounded almost too good to be true. Not only was her room and board to be comped, but the entire time she would be paid to simply wander around with a guide and a team. It sounded like a free vacation that also included a profit. Franny had been considering tutoring abroad, or even studying abroad if she could have afforded it. But even tutoring didn't pay enough for her to go overseas on her own dime. With $1400 coming in a month, plus the added profit of an amazing Asian trip on the resume, she could probably afford an apartment and land a decent job by the time she got back.

After she left the table, the list had a new name.

3. Franny Dagless Age 22

Now she was sitting in the cafe waiting out her graduation. She wasn't going because she didn't want to get grilled by everyone about next year. No, I'm not going to graduate school. She'd being using that line the whole damn night; and she didn't want to deal with the snooty looks of disappointment that would inevitably follow. She finished her espresso and left a tip. She went home and finished packing. The shuttle would be at her dorm by 6:00 AM.

Arrival.

Franny arrived in Phnom Penh a few days later. The city was far from her ultimate destination, but Cambodia had only one international airport and it was in Phnom Penh. A boy named Dallas had been on the plane with her. She had actually met him earlier that day, during her layover in New York while waiting in line at McDonald’s. The two had found it quite funny when they later discovered themselves sitting next to one another on the plane..

Dallas was about Franny's age and had also graduated the night before from a four year university. His name juxtaposed his lanky and pale features. He had very black hair, so black that it was nearly electric blue. He wore thick horn rimmed glasses in dark brown that rested tightly across his rounded roman nose.

A similar booth had caught his eye back in the States; eventually guiding him to the plane headed for Cambodia with Franny.

Both kids waited anxiously at their gate. Franny couldn't help but feel slight panic that their guide had not been immediately there to greet them. As the plane continued to funnel out, Franny's fears downgraded as two more young Americans stood to join them. They introduced themselves to one another, all looking around inquisitively for their guide.

A small raisin colored man, exactly the same height and build as the man at the job fair, emerged from the dissipating crowd. He held up a sign in English with all of their last names on it. Franny felt both relief and uneasiness at the sight of their guide. Just like the man in the booth he also was dressed like an American; khaki pants and a button-up shirt. He also wore a straw cowboy hat. But those frightfully small features chewed holes at the pit of Franny's stomach. The others, apparently worry free, rushed to the man with the sign. Franny followed them.

Road Trip.

The man with the sign led them to the pick-up area.

“Where do we get our bags?” Franny was concerned again when they found themselves outside of the airport without their luggage.

The man with the sign handed her another brochure.

Your Adventure Begins Here

The words at the top of the first page where bold and black.

I am your guide. I do not speak English.

You can call me Phil, easy for American to say.

We start first day on Shuttle.

Franny's unease expanded like a helium balloon. He doesn't speak English? She worried about the language barrier, but then realized it was unlikely a translator would be needed. Their destination was the northern border of Cambodia and Laos, the Annamite Range to be precise, and it supposedly was not native land to many people.

The booth man had said, “You may run into hill tribe people, but they are nice and friendly. In the mountains it will be only you and the wilderness... with a trained guide of course.”

Yeah, not trained in English though, Franny couldn't help but think.

“We-need-our-luggage...” Franny said the words slowly, utilizing animated hand gestures to illustrate. Phil pointed to the brochure.

Your baggage will meet you at your final destination.

She supposed that answered her question, although she still felt incredibly uncomfortable with the language barrier. Was Phil (she wondered what his real name might have been) going to communicate via brochure the entire trip?

The kids followed Phil into the only shuttle on the humid pavement outside of the airport. Inside the shuttle was remarkably stunning. Leather seats adorned the walls, comfortably wide and even more comfortably separated from one another. Franny was delighted by the quality of the shuttle and actually excited for the trip once she saw the minibar. Phil readied some boiling water and gestured for the kids to sit. Within minutes the kettle was boiling and he was preparing some type of tea.

Franny and the other three exchanged excitement as Phil worked in the background.

Once the tea was prepared he brought a yellow tea pot to the center of the shuttle and handed out four bright yellow cups. An awful scent of seaweed and dead fish assaulted Franny's nostrils. She looked at the bottom of her cup where the tea leaves had formed a pattern. Was that a dehydrated minnow she saw in there? Not wanting to offend she drank the tea anyway; just not savoring it in the same fashion as the others. Franny couldn't understand how they could drink that stuff so enthusiastically.

Phil took the driver's seat and turned on the seat belt sign. Apparently he was not only their guide, but also their chauffeur. As soon as the shuttle's wheels rolled to life Franny fell asleep on one of the white leather chairs.