Soon enough, I was back in Istanbul where I met up with an elated Mickey. He was thrilled to have been reunited with his luggage and had been palling around with two lassies he met on a Bosporus River cruise. Clad in the clean, "I'm-traveling-in-a-mostly-homophobic-country-but-I-can-still-be-cute,-God-damnit" clothes he had packed for the trip, he could not have been in better spirits.
While we were separated, 'ole Mickers had developed a new theory: that the holy call to prayer that blares every day, five times a day from microphones stationed in the mosque towers (minorettes) across Turkey is simply a voice recording. “You know, like when you're IM-ing with someone from an airline web site who answers your questions, but that 'person' is really just a computer offering predetermined answers," he explained thoughtfully after several glasses of wine. “I bet the mosques just play the same audio prayer each time so people will think that someone’s up there in the tower leading them in a heartfelt distinct devotion. Or maybe they rotate through a set of five recordings? Either way, they'd be smart to record and recycle."
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Mickers Ain't Buyin' It
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