It was enough to make me recoil in fear and nearly vomit. I was standing at the top of a staircase that led into one of the Cu Chi Tunnels when I saw it. I stood motionless, frozen at the sight. It was enough to make me recoil in fear. I held a hand to my mouth and gasped at the one thing that can send a shiver straight through my soul: back hair.
There need to be seminars. Huge, mandatory camps where all men must be detained until they learn The Correct Ways of Grooming. Better yet, Norelco lessons in the Eighth Grade, when even the wimpiest kids have finally sprung pubes on their dick. I encourage any technique needed to drive home the point, from Chinese Water Torture to Enema Water Torture. Guys have to understand that they are not primates and remove all hair from their backs, as well as properly trim whatever forest grows under their wear. For the love of God and all that is Holy.
Take, for example, the gentleman in front of me. He was a striking British guy in his early twenties whose teeth were not like those of an otter, as are the choppers of so many English guys. Yet he had completely overlooked the hair which was growing on his back. It wasn't as offensive as some I've seen but it was there, and surely there were paths of it down his spine. I wasn't even going to think about the underbrush.
Nobody told me. Nobody said "Hey, you know, there are about ten square inches of hair on your back". I just figured it out. Over the years I have waxed this spot before long holidays and buzzed it flat during the winter, when even girls don't shave. It was never something to be embarrassed about and something that could be discreetly taken care of in my home. Wham, bam. Gone. Please take a long look in the mirror and, if necessary, go gardening. Or find a woman named Olga, who will be happy to rip it off for 20 bucks. You will get laid again. I swear.
So anyway. How did I end up following a Muppet into a tunnel? Tourism. The Vietnamese have opened up the tunnels that were used with dramatic effect against the Americans. The Cu Chi Tunnels go for miles underground and are surprisingly intricate. Dead ends with boobytraps were created for any American whom dared to enter. Rabbit holes were poked for VC to pop from and shoot incoming troops. It was so effective that despite the enemy's tanks and bombs, this region never fell.
Walking through the actual tunnels brought on a feeling of claustrophobia that I have never before felt. There was no light and I could only walk slowly, completely hunched over and feeling into nothingness. It was very Frodo. After two minutes there was the fear that I had taken a wrong turn. After five there was a paralyzing fear that I would never get out. Ten minutes later I found an escape hatch and breathed fresh air again. Enough already with the caves.
Lucky for me there was a firing range, with leftover war weapons that could be fired for a price. I plunked down $15 and manned up to a machine gun. My tutorial was brief - "you squeeze trigger". I followed the expert instructions and was spraying bullets in no time. Not only did I hit my target but the gun's kick had pointed it at several OTHER targets, making me look like a casting leftover from Police Academy. It was like watching someone bowl a strike from three lanes over.
The last stop on this tour was the most amazing. Displayed in front of us were all of the jungle traps that the VC had set for The Americans. Most involved a pit with spears - it would be simple to mistake these places for solid ground. Others were more gruesome, with spikes that contracted upon a limb when engaged. Most mindblowing was the front door trap, a wall of spikes that would fall from the ceiling and gore a soldier who was trying to enter a home. These were not replicas and all of the spikes had been forged from the steel of fallen planes and bombs. American Made steel had killed Americans.
Back to Saigon and then off for Cambodia. Vietnam must surely be ready to spit me out by now.
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