Mubarak out. Andy in.

 
It was a cold, meandering winter and I was coming to the end of my second month on the road, rounding the Great Lakes to my dad’s house in upstate New York. It was January 25th and coming on “spring”.

On the other side of the world from the cold highway I was on, a strange fire was now burning across Egypt. For the next few days, as I headed south in northern Ontario, my car radio remained tuned to the drama. But it wasn’t until I arrived my parent’s quiet, suburban farm and saw the live images on nightly news, that I really began to grasp the significance of what was happening. It was sobering, yet still quite foreign.

I’m not usually the kind of guy that sees something like that, and feels immediately compelled to go do something about it—maybe help in some way. I’ll gladly open the door for a lady, part with loose change, and clean up after my dog. But I haven’t saved the spotted owl or truly sacrificed myself for distant suffering. That being said, I was thoroughly moved and inspired by what I saw. The dignity of the Egyptian people. The peaceful change they sought. The passion and sense of purpose they demonstrated.

To see all this transpire over the course of a few days and weeks, from this idyllic bubble of a country place, was a strange thing. I wanted to know why this was happening and I wanted to drink whatever it was they were drinking.

The news cycle would sometimes pan away from the battle of Tahrir Square to all the Egyptian tourist workers standing disconsolate in the midst of so many wonders of the world. The centuries-old swell of tourists had suddenly disappeared. These people were out of jobs. No one is buying their stuff. No one is visiting the Great Pyramids.

While watching these reports every day, I would half jokingly say aloud, “Ya know, now is probably a good time to visit. Someone should go there.”

I’ve always wanted to go to Egypt, but never made a serious effort. My consulting work and client-paid travel never got close. Also, I hate tourists—being one, the waiting in lines and the lack of new discovery. But now, I was increasingly pondering the possibility of going out loud, as if I was talking about anyone else but me. Quietly, I thought I might just be a genius.

Then, the historic news came. A moment that the martyrs in Tahrir Square and much of the world celebrated. Conceding to the stoic unity of the citizens of Egypt, Hosni Mubarak, their brutal dictator for three decades was now gone. It was at that moment, my decision was made. A week later I was walking amidst the intense and wonderful chaos of Cairo.