Legend has it that on the day Howard Carter discovered Tut’s tomb, a cobra slithered into Carter’s pet canary’s cage and devoured the bird.  Thus fell the first victim to the curse of Tut’s tomb.

Fast forward 95.5 years to a hot day in March in the Valley of the Kings.  Jason and I, your intrepid and humble travelers, agree with Hany, our guide – let’s just do the three tombs he recommends and skip paying the extra fee for Tut’s.  It’s not that great, after all, and we’ve seen the good stuff from it in the museum.

CURSE!

Unbeknownst to your intrepid and humble travelers, a curse was laid upon them.  But not upon Jason, for he is immune to things like curses and sandstorms and camel-gravity issues.  No, Tut shall seek his revenge on the penny-saving, temperature-suffering tourists from Amanda alone!

What other explanation can there be for the nasty cold she’s been fighting for over a week now?  For the unyielding symptoms that even in the face of three (THREE!) days of rest and substitute teachers refuse to give up her sinuses, her ear canals, her throat, and her nose?  For the disease that forces her to cough her way through a field trip to see “Sense and Sensibility” at the Arvada Center Friday night?  For the illness that, when she had a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, when she woke up one full week after the contagion set it she might just maybe feel a little bit better, said illness said, “NO!” and smote (smited?) her with pinkeye.  In both eyes.

Oh, Tut.  Is it not enough that I paid homage to your treasures in both Denver and in Cairo, but I should have suffered your actual tomb as well?  Or are you just angry that I show my Humanities classes this video when I try to explain just why you are so famous?

Isis, I turn to you.  Goddess of many things (including health), I raise my hands towards you and your mini-throne headpiece and ask that my eyesight be restored and my respiratory system cleansed.

As Justin reminded us, there can be miracles when you believe.

P.S. Monsieur David did a marvelous job writing up our trip.  An excellent use of a bank holiday, if you ask me.  I, on the other hand, may get around to a solid write-up when the screen’s not blurry and when I’m not hacking up a lung.