To Tell the Truth, Part I
I just have to confirm, since I was queried upon their veracity, that each of my Seven Statements are, in fact, true, actual facts. I am not making this up. But before I give the rest of one of the stories, here is a quick anecdote.
Sometimes, when the older two children are in an especially good mood during meals, they will engage in an exposition about "what bad people do." For example, "Bad people steal things." Or, "Bad people don't obey God." Or, "Bad people chew with their mouths open." They do this, I suppose, in a subtle effort to convince their parents that they are not so-called "Bad people." So, recently, the eldest son piped up and said, "Bad people buy things that aren't on sale." He quickly added that he thought of it all by himself.
Okay, so yes, I punched an Arab. In the Muslim Quarter of the Old City. And while surrounded by legions of Arabs. I hasten to add that I did not do this in anger, nor was I, at the time, inebriated.
It was June 24, 2003 and I was on my farewell-march of the Old City, walking through the familiar places one last time before returning to, as you say in America, America. I was exiting through the human traffic jam that is Damascus Gate and everything came to a standstill. As fate would have it, I was stuck right next to an Arab youth (who was actually larger than I) and a group of his buddies.
Said Arab youth had a large rubber band, which he held out fully extended such that the facial aspects of my person were approximately one inch from the receiving end of said band. I remained calm and didn't so much as smirk at him. When, after a few awkward seconds, he didn't remove the band of rubber from being aimed at my face, I put up my hands and put on a look of mock terror. This, apparently, was what he was looking for.
He lowered the band, began to laugh riotously, and exchanged high-fives with his buddies. Then, in a show of peace and magnanimity, he raised his hand to exchange high-fives with me. But, when I motioned to return the five, he removed his hand at the last moment, causing me to merely swing my hand in the air. He and his buddies thought this was hilarious and they again exhanged high-fives.
It was at this moment that I observed my fist moving rapidly up towards his shoulder and, after a quick moment, I deduced that I had punched him. When I say, "I punched him", what I really mean is that I gave him one of those teasing-punch-to-the-shoulder-because-you-just-pulled-a-fast-one-on-me punches. I was not intending to start a brawl, and, thankfully, that is not what happened. But in the moments that ensued, I learned that Arabs do not appreciate teasing punches, especially from geeky-looking Americans. Ha, ha...he told me in no uncertain terms that what I had done was not okay.
In a clear evidence of Divine Intervention and protection, at this very moment, the "traffic" began moving again, and I was able to march off before discovering how this scenario might play out further.
Sometimes, when the older two children are in an especially good mood during meals, they will engage in an exposition about "what bad people do." For example, "Bad people steal things." Or, "Bad people don't obey God." Or, "Bad people chew with their mouths open." They do this, I suppose, in a subtle effort to convince their parents that they are not so-called "Bad people." So, recently, the eldest son piped up and said, "Bad people buy things that aren't on sale." He quickly added that he thought of it all by himself.
Okay, so yes, I punched an Arab. In the Muslim Quarter of the Old City. And while surrounded by legions of Arabs. I hasten to add that I did not do this in anger, nor was I, at the time, inebriated.
It was June 24, 2003 and I was on my farewell-march of the Old City, walking through the familiar places one last time before returning to, as you say in America, America. I was exiting through the human traffic jam that is Damascus Gate and everything came to a standstill. As fate would have it, I was stuck right next to an Arab youth (who was actually larger than I) and a group of his buddies.
Said Arab youth had a large rubber band, which he held out fully extended such that the facial aspects of my person were approximately one inch from the receiving end of said band. I remained calm and didn't so much as smirk at him. When, after a few awkward seconds, he didn't remove the band of rubber from being aimed at my face, I put up my hands and put on a look of mock terror. This, apparently, was what he was looking for.
He lowered the band, began to laugh riotously, and exchanged high-fives with his buddies. Then, in a show of peace and magnanimity, he raised his hand to exchange high-fives with me. But, when I motioned to return the five, he removed his hand at the last moment, causing me to merely swing my hand in the air. He and his buddies thought this was hilarious and they again exhanged high-fives.
It was at this moment that I observed my fist moving rapidly up towards his shoulder and, after a quick moment, I deduced that I had punched him. When I say, "I punched him", what I really mean is that I gave him one of those teasing-punch-to-the-shoulder-because-you-just-pulled-a-fast-one-on-me punches. I was not intending to start a brawl, and, thankfully, that is not what happened. But in the moments that ensued, I learned that Arabs do not appreciate teasing punches, especially from geeky-looking Americans. Ha, ha...he told me in no uncertain terms that what I had done was not okay.
In a clear evidence of Divine Intervention and protection, at this very moment, the "traffic" began moving again, and I was able to march off before discovering how this scenario might play out further.
posted by brandywine on Saturday, June 02, 2007
4 Comments:
I don't believe Jonathon thought of that all by himself...Sounds like he's been secretly watching Jim Sammond's videos. Pretty soon he'll be saying that bad people go into business partnerships and he'll be claiming that he thought of THIS all by himself...
oh,oh I can personally verify #3 for you if you want since I was there as well. Wish I had remember that for my list.
Yikes.
Yes, claire, I think you're right...he goes around saying, "He said to me, 'Jim'", "He said to me, 'Jim'", "My name is Jim." "Jim." "Jim."
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