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Chuck's Fantastic Voyage
Alas, I am now in Iran! After a couple days journey over the hills of south Turkmenistan, I carefully trotted over the border into Iran, where a young machine-gun toting youth made great pains to be my porter, even shooting his gun in the air many times and nudging its muzzle against my back in a friendly, hopeful gesture.
I thought to myself, "When in Rome..." and got into his Subaru hatchback and sat next to the young man's rocket launcher. The young Iranian, whom I will call Mr. Go-Go, floored it across the open steppe as I nibbled on Chewy granola bars and sipped from my flask of Muscato dessert wine. After 8 hours, I lapsed into a sleep.
When I awoke, we were in Mosshad, amid a bustling market, and Mr. Go-Go nudged me out of his hatchback with his machine gun and made me hand over $400, a hefty expense, but well worth it, since I was finally somewhere with a decent internet connection and possibly a Starbucks.
Alas! I write to you from the Mosshad Starbucks franchise, situated on the crest of the Mickelzok mountain range, just in sight of what appears to be the most pleasant ski resort of the Middle East.
Withdrawing a few bucks from the ATM, I bought a ski pass, rented some straight-edged skis (bulky and bit too long for my taste, but all the shaped-skis were apparently taken), and rode the rope pull to the top of Mount Tasken. From such heights, I could see all the way to the smog-choked valley of Tehran. Ahh, I thought to myself, what a great feeling to be alive and skiing in Iran!
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