Name:

Arab American

 Country:

U.S.A.

 Date:

Tuesday, 30 October 2001

 
The Intersection

I was waiting on the nearby stoplight when I heard a loud horn being blown near my car. I looked to my left and came face to face with his angry eyes aiming at mine, his right fist rigidly shaking in the space of his nice looking car, and a loud shout of “Go Back To Your Country You F*** Terrorist” erupted like volcanic explosion from his mouth and swept across the intersection like nuclear winds. Many eyes caught the violent scene; many ears heard the loud shout; yet I’m still wondering how did those people feel about it, how many of them really felt of doing and saying the same and how many felt outraged of such uncivilized behavior.

Fortunately, the light turned to green before I had a chance to catch my breath and react in a way that I would have regretted later!

I swallowed my anger and drove in, while my eyes pinned at the car speeding away to the far left lane and disappearing behind the curve. I felt many eyes in the nearby cars were peering and aiming at me. I felt like a moving target on the firing range and heard the drill sergeant yelling at us “If you don’t kill the bastard from the first shot, you’re going back to your “Momy” in a bag!” I killed the bastard! I was a decorated sharpshooter all throughout my soldiering years. However, although the Army taught me how to be a killing machine, it also instilled in me something much more sentimentally powerful: Love to America!

The day our plane touched the ground in Stuttgart Airport, with Old Glory flying from the captain assistant window, the Commander giving his last orders to the staff on how to conduct the welcome ceremony, and then walking out the plane and shaking hands with all those dignitaries who came to welcome back the Desert Shield / Storm soldiers, I was already baptized with pride and glory.

Now, the image is fading away quickly. A new circle is drawn on the ground and I’m being thrown out of it! All of a sudden, it seems as if my foxhole had been covertly pushed away overnight to the other side. I am the bastard now!

I drove away aimlessly. There were many more intersections ahead, none of which seems to yield to the right path, as if I were caught in a closed circle. Finally, I got to my house. I parked the car and went inside while, on the passenger seat, the RSVP invitation card to the new Michigan Vietnam monument ceremony left unanswered! 

 
 

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