Remember how I mentioned a cab driver in my last blog? He was a sweet man ten years younger than me who bought me breakfast and sang as he drove me home. That's pretty cute, huh? He drove me back to the airport a few weeks ago, and he turned out to be not so cute after all. Anyway, here's a classic Saudi moment where showing a little hair only gets a girl in trouble.
This boy was named Khalid, a generic Saudi name equivalent to Matt. He called me a week or so after our first encounter and said that he was in the area of my hospital. He offered to give me a ride if I needed a taxi that night. I declined, but asked him if he would be up for taking me to the airport two weeks from that date. He agreed, even though I needed him to show up at 5:30 AM. Perfect! I was happy to get my ride arranged and he seemed happy to have a job lined up.
The following morning at work he sent me a text using English letters/numbers for Arabic words. I know how to speak a little Arabic, but reading--forget it. I asked my Saudi friend sitting next to me what the text said. He looked at it and didn't initially know, either. Then he said, "I think he said you look like a donkey."
What???? A donkey? Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the only donkey ride I've even been on, but I don't consider that text a nice thing to tell a customer! I sent him a text in English simple enough that Google translator had a pretty good shot of not screwing up. "Did you say I look like a donkey?" A couple minutes (and probably one Google translation) later he returned my text. "Hhhhhhhhhh, I say you look like the moon!"
Moon, donkey, whatever. This place brings out the weird in people. I didn't want to mess with this tar baby, so I deleted that text and pretended the whole donkey-moon incident never happened. I showed the text to my friend who translated, and he warned me to be careful about the driver. I laughed it off, saying that I could probably bench-press the wimpy dude. I only get drivers that the hospital provides or ones who look like someone I could beat the crap out of if push came to shove. The kid looked like he had never heard of exercise, came up to my chin and weighed 90 lbs on a fat day.
I debated whether I should get a ride with him as planned since that text was a little weird, but he was nice and I didn't want to back out on him. He probably could have used the money and, most importantly, I hoped that maybe he would find a little breakfast place to grab me some food for the road. He knew how to make good tip money last time, so hopefully he would pull the same trick on the way back to the airport!
I called him the day before my flight left, confirmed that he knew it was 5:30 AM not PM, and told him that I would call him half an hour before just to make sure he was awake and coming. After nearly 16 months of not going home, I did NOT want to miss my flight to see my family over some cab driver having a creative excuse for not picking me up on time.
Everything went according to plan. I called him bright and early, he was on his way over and we met at the designated spot at exactly 5:30. Sweet! My heavy roller bag probably weighed half as much as he did, but somehow he managed to hoist it into the bed of his truck. I was so impressed... for about ten seconds. Then the plan didn't go so well. He said that we would take his friend's car. I asked why, and he answered in Arabic. Hmmm. Not the time of day to require brain power. I hopped in the back seat, took at look at his empty gas gauge, and everything made sense.
I asked how far to his friend's house, and he gave me the standard answer, "Five minutes, five minutes." He turned in the complete opposite direction from the airport. No problem, I budgeted that time into my plans and even the extra five minutes to get back to our starting point. Five minutes and still driving. Ten minutes and still driving. OKAY!!! ENOUGH BEING PATIENT! I HAVE A PLANE TO CATCH!!!!
"Khalid, I need to go to the airport now. It has been ten minutes. I do not want to miss my plane."
"Just five minutes."
"No! We get gas now, then you take me to the airport."
"My friend is coming to the airport, too."
Then the phone rang. Apparently it was his friend. Khalid is a typical Saudi man, so talking equates to yelling. I did not understand all of the unnecessarily loud conversation, but I understood enough to know that the friend's house was close, and Khalid wanted to show off his girlfriend. GIRLFRIEND???!!! How could he possibly have thought I deserved that title? The way I saw it, he was my best option for a ride to the airport. That's all.
That's when it got ugly. I am about 99% sure nothing unfortunate would have happened to me, but this was not a situation I felt comfortable dealing with first thing in the morning. I could beat up the weenie driver, but I had no idea what his friend looked like. Even more than that, I didn't want to miss my flight! I lose my cool out here a lot more than I would like to admit, but I had never gone Mad Woman until that moment. Anyone who has ever been in a long-term relationship knows what I'm talking about. Mad Woman resembles a cross between The Incredible Hulk and a banshee. Don't mess with her unless you really want to get it! I yelled at him like I haven't yelled in years. The only part I know he understood was the part where I told him in Arabic that he was "very bad," but the eloquent English part came out like projectile vomit and appropriately freaked him out.
He quickly flipped a U-turn, then called his friend to cancel our introduction. Wise decision. The "girlfriend" wasn't in the mood for making a jovial first-impression. We sat in silence as he pulled into the gas station. He got out of the car while I kept my eye on the clock hoping that we wouldn't be too long. He quickly returned with a Snickers bar and a drink box filled with the sugariest orange beverage on the market. Okay, that's cute. I don't care who you are, it's impossible to stay mad at someone who hands you a drink box. It was not the breakfast of champions, but it was definitely the breakfast of psychos. That morning, it was just what I needed. He dropped me off at the airport, I handed him my money, and he told me to call him for a ride home after my trip.
Needless to say, I found another skinny boy to take me home. We did not get breakfast, but I haven't had any weird texts, either. It's a fair trade. So far, Khalid has called me twice. I never answered his calls. Why he would even bother calling me is a puzzle, but what can I say? I'm still probably the best--and only--girlfriend he thinks he ever had.
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