A Snake in the Grass: Part III

7:00am.  I woke, dressed, collected my daily needs into a bag, grabbed Amy’s X-rays, and made my way downstairs.  The scene that greeted me in the dining room for breakfast was daunting.  The students that were there were all twitchy, staring at me, uncomfortable.  The professor, Irene, and another student were conferring in a far corner.  I wished they wouldn’t do that without me.  It put me in a position to be isolated, blamed, caught unknowing.  I wanted to be a part of everything.  I later came to the personal conclusion that I can’t be involved in everything; part of being a leader is knowing when to get involved and when not to, and more importantly, when to let go. 

Amy was there, without her things, of course.  I kept hinting about us needing to go soon, does she have all of her stuff together, would she like me to go get it for her?  She just kept answering yes or no and sitting there.  I finally TOLD her to go get her stuff (I would’ve liked to have said “Stop sitting there like a pain in the ass and go get your shit” to add some distaste to the statement, but I only did so in my head.  The professor was fleeting and I had to aggressively demand his attention for a quick few minutes to confirm the plans for the morning.  I would be going to the hospital with Amy and he would be staying back to lead class.  It was lucky for everyone that we had a late start, especially those that had irresponsibly drank too much the night before. 

Amy was still being a quite literal pain in the ass.  She sent someone else to go get her belongings.  Why couldn’t she do it herself?  We got in the taxi and left for the hospital. 

The doctor that attended to her case was quite a character.  He was an older French man, maybe late forties, with peppered, shaggy, matted hair on his head and mirrored dark and gray curls protruding off his chest and out of the neck of his white lab coat where one would expect to see only a shirt, but there was none.  He had a quite laughable demeanor in general.  He made it clear that Amy would need surgery and was openly baffled when she said she would postpone that for when she returned State-side.  She would need sutures to prevent infection and to get only a few stitches on her hand was a huge ordeal.  She had to get into scrubs and a cap and onto a gurney and then told numerous times to remove her undergarments for sterilization purposes just for a few stitches.  I ignored nurse requests to wait outside, I didn’t want to let her leave my sight, as painful as this was for me since the woman talks off her high horse like nobody’s business.  She’s a nice lady, just fucking self-centered and entitled as all-get-out.  It was refreshing that at this point she was openly feeling some shame, though never really taking any responsibility. 

After much waiting, they finally took her off to the operating room.  In the waiting hall, I met a young traveler from London.  I had spoken with her Kiwi fiancé earlier who had been hit by a moto and had a pretty bad leg wound.  They didn’t know if he had nerve damage or not.  I found them interesting- they were young, about my age, attractive, had met in London and had only been together about a year and a half and were now moving to France together.  Romance.  Another Canadian couple was there because the wife, being around seventy, had collapsed six disks in her back when a truck they were driving in hit a pot hole in China.  Their next stop after that was Vietnam and she was in need of emergency back surgery.  Amy’s problems could definitely have been worse. 

I waited for about an hour.  They returned her to me and we waited some more.  Finally we were attended to and led around to different rooms, desks, and finally given a prescription for nothing more than what seems to be strong Tylenol.  Thank goodness for good insurance though.  We didn’t have to pay out of pocket for anything, including her meds. 

We returned to our side of Hanoi and met the rest of the class as they were finishing up lunch before heading to our afternoon meetings.  The atmosphere was caustic.  There was definitely a funk about the group and everyone was tense.  I had gotten wind earlier that morning that many people were hung over, there was one incident of a boy sleeping in a girl’s room, and one student’s mother was trying to buy a ticket for her son to come home early because of the nuclear activity in North Korea.  Drama, drama, drama. 

And I felt like it was all my fault, or at least being blamed on me, though it shouldn’t be.  I made it very clear at the beginning of the trip that they were not children and I was not going to treat them as such.  They were their own responsibility and the choices they made were their own.  I asked that they not drink excessively, nor have guests in their rooms, nor break the buddy system.  I repeated all of this at the snake restaurant.  Did anyone heed what I had to say?  No.  It amazes me how seventeen graduate students act like children more than children do.  And here I was getting blamed for it all.  I understand that I introduced them to the situation, but the professor nor Irene ever stepped in, though I gave them both opportunities to.  They are as much to blame as myself, but ultimately Amy and Ashley are to blame for their decisions. I will now tell you their story:

After leaving the Snake Village Restaurant, the group returned to the backpacker hostel where there was drinking and dancing.  Many of the members of our group decided it was time to return to the hotel and prodded Amy and Ashley to return with them.  Amy says that Ashley was having fun and wanted to stay so she decided to stay to enable Ashley to have more fun.  I do not believe her.  I believe Ashley and the rest of the group who all say that Amy was demanding to say and ignoring all requests to leave.  This is not the only time Amy’s story has differed from everyone else’s and gotten her out of any responsibility.  Fucking bitch.  They then followed a large group of foreigners to a new bar, had a couple of more drinks (though Amy denies this) and then reemerged with another group of foreigners.  At this point Amy was ready to go home and started walking quickly away.  Ashley followed her, suggesting they get a cab, but stubborn Amy thought she knew the direction of the hotel and wanted to walk.  When she was repeating her story the next morning to me sober (she would do this often, just all of a sudden start recounting details though I didn’t ask her about it, seeing as I had already heard the story many times.  She just likes to hear herself talk.), she insisted she knew the direction of the backpacker.  I took this entertaining opportunity to shame her and asked her then, “Okay, if you were to walk to the backpacker now, which way would you go?”  She pointed in the completely wrong direction and I told her so.  She immediately started to make excuses about how she would go out that way but snake around to avoid heavy traffic.  The nerve. 

As they were walking down dark alleys with few people late at night, Ashley was desperately trying to keep up with Amy as she plowed off in what she thought was the direction of the hotel.  Ashley is much larger and is therefore a much slower walker.  At this point, some people on motorcycles were asking them if they wanted a motorbike taxi, they said no.  The motorcyclists then started to follow Ashley, taunting her a bit, then reached for her pockets, she fell, screamed, and they took off with her phone and cash.  Amy turned at the sound of the scream and insists at that point they knocked her over as they fled.  The evening it happened she told me she was violently and purposefully shoved down.  She was nearly the width of a street in front of Ashley and, Amy only slightly mentioned this once, but I think she really just turned around too fast and fell on her own, causing her to break her fingers.  At that point Amy got up and rushed over to Ashley exclaiming her fingers were bleeding and broken and they need to get to the hotel.  Ashley got them a taxi. 

So there it is folks.  Idiots being idiots, making poor decisions over and over again, and taking no responsibility for it.  The snake in the grass.  

I unnecessarily felt terrible for introducing them to the debauchery at the Snake Village Restaurant and that morning at the hospital had taken some time to call my boss Jarod and ask him if he felt it necessary for me to make an open apology.  He did not think so.  He made it clear that the office knows these things happen and they do not place blame on their field coordinators one bit.  I felt relieved and held back tears the entire time I spoke to him, as I had been holding it together and had no one to talk to about my take on things for the last twelve hours or so.  Not being able to talk about your feelings is terrible.  I don’t understand why some people actively choose to keep it bottled up. 

The professor and I were able to get some words in about steps moving forward and how to reunite the group and increase their morale as we walked to class that afternoon.  I decided it best to speak openly to the group about what happened, that we are available for anyone who needs to talk about it, be positive and enthusiastic about the rest of the trip, and even open up for a group discussion about what gifts to get our Vietnamese guide and program coordinator.  In doing so I apologized for introducing them to the situation but made it very clear that they are responsible for their own actions.  I think it was the right decision.  One of the students is a much older, very articulate gentleman and him and I get along very well.  Later he told me that it was very courageous of me to do that, that I didn’t have to, and that he had to refrain from interrupting me during my apology to call out those who were truly responsible.  Bless him.  He presented me with a very expensive gift of high grade Vietnamese coffee later that day, knowing that I wanted to go purchase some for myself.  I can’t tell you enough how much that gesture meant to me, that even just one person knew the unnecessary hardship I went through with all of this and the responsibility I was taking.  He asked me why I would apologize and I told him I didn’t mind, since I knew in my heart that I wasn’t overall to blame, but someone has to take responsibility and part of being a leader is being that person.

As crazy as this situation was, and lucky we were that it was not worse, I am glad that it happened.  I learned so much about myself.  I was fearful that in an event like this I would drop the ball.  Looking back on it all, I made some tiny errors just in the rush of getting emergency things together, but every DECISION I made was spot on, my demeanor was perfect, and even my use of language surprised me.  The language I used during the situation and the out-of-the-box thinking I did would make a lawyer sweat it was so articulate and official.  I handled this.  I was a leader eighteen other people much older than myself looked to and followed for guidance.  I was publicly and privately encouraging, positive, and optimistic for those who needed it.  I practiced patience with incompetence, which you know is very hard for me.  I got us through and reunited the group and had an amazing next day, which I will tell you about later…

What I want YOU to know, my family member or friend, is that I could not have done any of this without you.  When I couldn’t talk to anyone here I would think of you guys, sitting with you, talking with you, and being held by you.  Knowing in my heart that you would give me the necessary support had you been here was enough support to get me through.  You are all amazing influences in my life and I appreciate you so much for that.  Know that no matter how far away I am, I cherish you near to my heart.