I'm Not a Terrorist, But I've Played One on TV Read Online Free PDF Page A

that drink came in the color orange. Most people who find out I am originally from Iran think I grew up in a desert, riding camels and living near an oil well.
    â€œDid you guys have camel traffic jams in the old country?”
    â€œNo,” I’d say, “we didn’t ride camels. And even if we did, there would be no camel traffic jams because there are no camel lanes. You just go around the guy on the slower camel.”
    â€œWell, you sure seem to know a lot about camels. There’s no shame in admitting that you rode them as a kid back in Iran. Did you name your camels? In America, we sometimes name our cars.”
    â€œWe didn’t have camels!”
    â€œWow, someone’s sensitive. Fine, you’ve never ridden a camel. Calm down.”
    â€œOkay, fine. I lied. I did ride a camel once. But that was at Marine World Africa USA! In Vallejo, California. USA! And his name was Bob.”
    The main difference between Iran and America, transportationally speaking, is that in the United States people actually follow traffic laws. When a car misses an exit, the motorist simply drives to the next exit, turns around and tries again. In Tehran when someone misses an exit, he puts the car in reverse right there on the freeway and goes backward. There is nothing scarier than being in the backseat of a car on a freeway and having the driver look at you as he drives in the wrong direction. All you hear are cars honking, drivers cussing, camels scurrying into the passing lane. You don’t dare turn around to see what’s speedingtoward you, typically in the form of impending death moving at sixty-five miles an hour. Somehow, though, these eccentric drivers manage to zigzag their way back to the missed exit and arrive safely at the proper destination. This has happened to me a few times in the Middle East, and I’ve learned that if you don’t look back and just do some breathing exercises, you get through it fine. Just repeat this mantra: “I refuse to die going in reverse. I refuse to die going in reverse. I refuse to die . . .”
    I don’t know why people in the Middle East have no regard for traffic laws. However, I have a theory as to why New York City cabbies are notorious for being bad drivers. It’s simple—the worst drivers from countries in the Middle East, Africa, and South America come to New York and get jobs as cab drivers. They are coming from places where going in reverse on the freeway is totally acceptable. When they arrive in New York, they implement this style of driving in city streets. New York cab driving is like the Indy 500 of bad drivers from around the world. The best of the best go there to compete. Or rather the worst of the worst, I suppose, depending on if you’re the poor sap in the backseat.
    My Dad, the Electricity Mogul
    While I was enjoying my American-influenced youth, suddenly protests began in the streets of my hometown in 1978. I didn’t know what all the fuss was about. I was only six years old and too busy drinking orange soda to care. A year earlier, U.S. president Jimmy Carter had visited Tehran and made a famous speech where he called Iran an “island of stability in one of the more troubled areas of the world.” One year later, Iran was in turmoil. It’s safe to say Jimmy wasn’t much of a fortune-teller. More of a misfortune teller.
    Before I left for America, we would hear protests in the streets and have to observe a curfew every night. I remember being a kid and having to go into the basement a few times when the protests and gunfire got close to our house. I really didn’t know what was happening. Mostly, I thought it was pretty cool to be with my family in the basement hiding from danger. I felt like Batman in the Batcave! (Yes, we had Batman in Iran, too. And no, he didn’t ride a camel.)
    My first six years in Iran were good ones. We lived on the same property as my grandmother, who would