January 13, 2008

An encounter with an American ass...

Today, I felt a little better, so I had a night out.

There is this little pub/café, supposedly an “alternative” place, where supposedly “alternative” people gather...Thank God, there were none tonight, none of these politically correct "alternatives."

I am not sure, if I consider myself as “alternative” having seen what “alternative” is all about.

I mean, hell, I’ve seen so called Arab leftist's “alternatives” and the “anti-war alternative” and even “alternative” websites and despite all these “alternatives,” I have witnessed the continuous destruction of Iraqi and Palestinian lives.

So what “alternative” are people on about, exactly?

It is all nonsense, nonsense and lies...There is no Arab left, left.
As for the anti-war movement, it is one huge sham and there is no “will of the people” bullshit.

Definitely no “American will of the people” bullshit. America has no people, it has groups and individuals.
Individuals are not a people. The individualistic mentality does not make a people. It makes a mass of something but not a people for sure.
And this mass of something is exactly what I encountered tonight...in this "alternative" setting... An "alternative" evening...

But, and this is a personal observation, I am starting to believe that I am seriously jinxed.

After all, I go out for a break, to be away from America and Americans only to end up with their asses in my face.

No exaggeration here, this is exactly what happened.

An American ass was in my face. I am only grateful that this huge butt did not fart too...That would have really been my end.

This is what happened, a transcript of the evening. Word for word.

The setting first.

This place is quite small. I mean really small. It consists of a few tables and one long bar/counter and a few stools.

Here I was sitting with my French friend Paul. Paul is a real character. He thinks he is the reincarnation of Louis Massignon, the Orientalist turned Marxist in this lifetime.

Paul has been living in this part of the world for donkeys years and he still can’t speak Arabic. Imagine some Arab living in Paris for that long and not speak French, he would be considered an outcast for sure. Not that an Arab in France is not already considered an outcast to start with...

Anyways, Paul’s Arabic consists of thank you, please, goodbye and the proverbial Salam Aleikom and a few swear words...

Next to Paul, was Randa, another friend who has just broken up with her boyfriend(a long story which I shall not repeat, since I heard it about a zillion times already) and Randa was moping and sulking all evening.

And here was Moi, me, and I must say, I was looking forward to the evening.

Paul can be quite entertaining with his heavy French accent and his Gauloises chain smoking, pretending to be a marxist version of Louis Massignon and punctuates every other word with “putain de merde.”

Randa was too busy checking her cell phone every 3 seconds, hoping her boyfriend had a change of heart or something...That left Paul and I babbling away about his Marxist Orientalism.

The barman, Ali, is Lebanese from South Lebanon. He arrived here some time ago, hoping to make a living. Ali’s friends, mostly Lebanese, frequent this place too. Ali is very generous with them, free drinks and all...when the "Patron" is not around.

So there was Paul, gloomy Randa, Hani (Ali’s friend), Hassan (Ali’s friend) and myself seated at the bar. The tables were empty.

After a while walked in a horde of Americans, about 7 of them. I’d say in their late 20’s.

My heart sank...

I could tell they were from the West coast.

You know, by now how I can detect the accent miles away...A squeak in my ears that lingers on and on...

The gals hugged Ali tightly. He then told me that was their way of trying to get free drinks...
The guys hated Ali, because Ali is a bit of hunk...And the guys could not compete with that. Plus he had gorgeous eyes...

And of course, where will these motherfuckers sit? Next to Layla, where else!

There were empty tables around, oh but no, they had to sit next to me.

Paul said “putain de merde, c’est quoi ce bordel d’Americains ?" and "putain de merde quel accent!” (rough translation - Holy shit, what are these yankees doing here and what a fucking accent.) See am not the only one who is allergic!

And they were LOUD, and I mean LOUD. And all I could hear was this screeching, shrill, nasal shit in my ears...

One of the gals, trying to seduce Ali into giving her a free beer, leaned across the wide counter and presented me with a full view of her ass...Right in my face.
I was silently praying that no further damage takes place...farts and all.

I stared hard at Ali, as if to tell him, do something NOW. So he did.

He politely asked her to sit properly on her stool, telling her that there are other customers next to her.

She paid no notice and continued doing what she does best, try to swindle a free drink from the barman...

Layla got really pissed by then. Pissed as hell.

I tapped her on her shoulder and said:

-Hey you, turn around.
-Yeah? she replied with a startled look.
-Do you realize how wide your backside is?
-Excuuuuuse me?
-What’s the matter, don’t you understand English ? I repeat. Do you realize how wide your butt is?
- What’d’ya mean?
-I mean do I have to have a full view of your ASS in my face? (Thinking to myself, these bastards are occupying my country, do they also have to occupy my vision?!)

She blushed a little and said Awww am sawwwry.
-So you should be, very sorry !

She finally sat down on that stool and she did not get her free drink either.
But she kept asking for more. More free - chips, olives, peanuts, carrots...with mendacity. Why are Americans so cheap?

So the guys left to play darts. And the 4 all American gals stayed at the bar...Impossible to carry my conversation with Louis Massignon.

But I overheard their conversation...and what a delight it was.

American ass - D’ya have a girl friend Aaaali?
Ali - Yes am engaged
American ass – Is she preeety, like us American women?
Ali - Much prettier
American ass – Why d’ya leave her behin’ (twirling her limp hair)
Ali - Who said I left her behind, we’re getting married soon
American ass – Why d’ya leave Lebanawn?
Ali - Coz Amrika won’t leave us

Touché Ali ! Nice one.

American ass – Teach me Ayrabic will ya?
Ali - Sure. Kiss em Amrika
American ass – Awww Wooowww, kiss us, how sweet! Lemme get it right. Kiss em America.
Ali – Yes that’s right. Kiss em Amrika

And am not exaggerating, Ali, Hani, Hassan, myself, Paul with his heavy French accent and even gloomy Randa joined the chorus. And we all went.

“Cheers, Kiss em Amrika”

American ass – Hey Guys, cm’on over here, they all wanna kiss us.

And we all went again, “Yeah that’s right, kiss em Amrika. Cheers again.”

It was a truly wonderful evening .

See how much us Ayrabs love you ?

You can learn these terms of endearment too. Just keep repeating it “Kiss em Amrika."

Painting : Iraqi artist, Jaber Alwan.