Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Back To Life

This is where I start putting my life back together.

I’m sitting on an economy class flight to Kuwait – shithole – having just been molested. Not once, mind, but once more:

Twice, therefore.

No buzzer sounded as I walked through the metal detector, but the airport security operative (or whatever they’re called these days) just couldn’t help himself. After squeezing the muscles in my arms and finding a little Newtonian resistance (reactivated fitness regime), he stroked my inner thighs before cupping a bagful of pregnant nuts.

Then, while I glanced over my shoulder at his shy and knowing colleagues, he did it again. The word “cupping”, surely, has no equal in the situation I am describing. Could there be a better description of what his hands were doing? I doubt it. I’m not gay, of course – what a silly use of the word – but on quick reflection I had to smile and ask myself: “Where’s the harm?”

I had done someone else a favour – albeit unwittingly – in a world where favours are few. I was almost glad to be of assistance.

I said almost.

In everything we experience there is surely a lesson: I hope so, else we’re doomed. And I’ve learnt many things of late, in particular the art of tolerance. We’re all human beings, after all: prone to failings which include, for example, taking our loved ones for granted when at times – and often unknowingly – they are quietly despairing and in need of our support. I am fortunate to have received the benefit of unbridled generosity from those close to me (you know who you are), whilst still appearing to others in that ever-so-slightly-wider circle as if I’m a man of great substance. Shockingly to you, those in that latter category, I can reveal that I am not.

Yet I am blessed in many other, more meaningful ways: I have a family, for instance, that has rallied around me and my mother, in the wake of the earth-shattering loss of George, beloved husband and father. And I have a wife who loves me, which is what – selfishly – matters most of all. For every man needs a partner, faithful and true. To this I will return.

It may sound strange but I no longer fear death, having watched the man to whom my existence was anchored keel over before me and die. Earlier, I had seen the resolution in his eyes and – I now know – witnessed his sure knowledge of what was quickly to come. Only once during those few, awful days did I hear him curse – out of anger more than self-pity – while even then he was economic with his use of the vernacular. What he said shall remain private but, suffice to say, it was uncharacteristic of a man who abhorred profanities. To those – not me – who called him “gentleman” George, know that I did not need to: the word was utterly superfluous.

In the car on the way to hospital a day or so before, he placed a warm hand on mine: it was the same hand I remember walking me to school when I was still wearing shorts and wondering whether I was going to get through the day without crying. And while we were driving towards more treatment he knew he would not survive, my father somehow found the strength to offer me a smile. What courage did that take? More than I could ever summon: of that I am sure. I live in hope that my children – all of them – will admire and respect me to the extent that I did my Dad. I am not over it, and never will be, but I know I must begin to recover from his loss. And if my sons and daughters feel as I do now, then I will surely rest peacefully in the knowledge of their love, and feel truly blessed.

And now, returning at last to my dear wife, I can only begin to describe the rock that underpins my life. Not, perhaps, the person you are thinking of. But the woman, indeed, without whom I would surely cave in. The one that I do not doubt. The girl to whom I give my heart and soul. May God bless you, my darling.

posted by Kirk at 2:48 am  


  1. Well mate, you were on the way to Kuwait but which airport did the security grope take place in? Not that I’m interested in having the same thing happen to me but I could pass this on as a tip to that U.S. Senator who got busted for solicitation a couple of years ago in the Minnesota airport. Anyway I assume it was in a place that I would be persona non grata. Although they would probably not just squeeze my nuts but cut them off. Andy why ECONOMY? Surely you could have found a gay flight attendant who would have upgraded you. (Unless it was on Iranian Airlines. My good friend President Ahmidinajad told the students at Columbia University in NY that “there is not even one gay person in Iran”. Wasn’t it Shakespeare who said something about “he who protests too much…”).

    I recommend returning to Hong Kong. The only person who gets stripped searched at the Marina Club is Willie if a certain Gurkha guard is on duty. Although I’m sure some of the floating residents like Mad Mickey or Dave the Perv would be happy to cop a feel if the opportunity arose (not to make a pun).

    As to “dear wives” I second the wish of “May God Bless”. Before I take a flight, my beautiful wife (who incidently never reads Blogs), loves to put on an airport security uniform (like the ones I envision the Victoria’s Secret security wear), and after some probing, take me to the interrogation room and perform a total strip search. It’s amazing how well I sleep on the plane!

    Hope you’re laughing now, mate!

    Comment by Zvi — May 15, 2009 @ 12:49 am

  2. Yes, I am – thanks, Zvi…

    And it was Amsterdam, by the way…


    Comment by The Kaptain — May 15, 2009 @ 3:35 am

  3. Kaptain

    Good to read your wonderful writing. Very poetic. Good to see that you are well and that you are providing entertainment to the security establishment. If that is what it takes to keep them happy, glad that you put your best foot forward.


    Comment by Craig — May 16, 2009 @ 8:24 pm

  4. Amsterdam! Now I’m truly shocked. I guess the policy of letting anyone enter has now influenced what they do at the exits…

    Comment by zviZZZzvi — May 17, 2009 @ 9:25 am

  5. Amsterdam, damn, now I’m really shocked! I guess with the easy immigration entrance in Holland they are now making the exit more difficult (or hiring some of the new immigrants for security which is a scary thought)…I was once frisked and fondled in Frankfurt. But the security agent was a beautiful blond, (and may I emphasize, petite, with no visible Adams apple). At the time I thought she was just trying to apologize to me for the Holocaust.

    Comment by Zvi — May 17, 2009 @ 10:32 pm

  6. i miss grandad, too much.

    Comment by Katherine — August 4, 2009 @ 12:34 pm

  7. May God Bless you……I love you..up and down…..I’ve been waiting for so long your comin’…Now…..will be with you for rest of life, up and down.see the children grow

    Comment by Septin — October 11, 2009 @ 5:19 am

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