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Thursday, May 04, 2006A Little StoryImagine... Your name is Mohammed Abdul Karim. Though you have been in America eight years, your features do nothing to hide your Pakistani origins. Right now, you are going to school in Washington DC. Not one of the prestige schools, sorry. You work the crap shift at a convenience store to pay for your schooling, and right now, you're wishing you didn't. You pulled an all-nighter - 4 a.m. after work till 10 this morning to get your English paper in on time. And while you got a few zees from 3 o'clock till 5, your roommate hauled you off to some get-together at six. At 10 o'clock, you left to change for work, and you know you're dead because it's almost midnight and you're still working your way toward Al's Mart. But you're so tired, you've taken a few wrong turns, and you're starting to weave. You notice, maybe half-notice, a few police cars up ahead, and your sleep deprived brain decides to turn off the lights so they won't notice you. You don't realize you're outside the offices of the Fed because, well, this isn't a part of town you come to often. Suddenly you are blinded by the lights of a police cruiser. And you're weaving into its path! You grab the wheel, swerve, and crash into a security barricade. You leap out of the car, terrified it will blow up, terrified you'll be arrested, terrified by anything else your addled mind can come up with to be terrified by. You utter a few choice words, and of course they come out in Pakhto. There's light again, the flashlights of two policemen running toward you. You try to find the English to tell them you're running late for work, you're sorry, you're... screwed. There you are, car crashed into a security barrier near a federal building, your vaguely Arabic features illuminated by police flashlights, and after nearly running into a cop car with your lights off. Two questions: What do you think is going to happen to you? Don't you wish you were a pasty-faced white guy with a name like Patrick Kennedy? 
posted by gbarto at 9:26 PM |
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