Wow, it has truly been too long since my last post. The internet has been down more than it's been up lately, and I'm afraid that I've been shirking my duty when it did see fit to run. But just because I haven't written, doesn't mean that nothing has happened. Quite the opposite, really. I hope you've gone to the bathroom and brought snacks, because reading this is going to take awhile. Try not to get lost in the maze of dangling participles and conjunctions. I wish you the best of luck!
Now let's begin...
My anecdote took place on November 4, which you all know was voting day. Eric and I decided that we should make every effort to vote, since we are Americans, and voting is the most American thing one can do. So we set out on our journey to the American embassy at about 1:30 in the afternoon. By 3:45 we were standing in front of the embassy complex, ready to vote. However, this proved to be more difficult than we had anticipated. We strode up to the Egyptian man sitting behind thick, bulletproof glass and told him that we wanted to vote. He politely informed us that voting was closed, and that we should have come the day before. Eric and I looked at each other and decided to try again. We walked around the great wall of the embassy and came into the lobby of the main entrance. Once more we were greeted by an Egyptian man at the reception table. He too, told us that voting was closed, and that furthermore our request should be lodged at the window we were at first. So we walked back around the wall to our original location at the information window. Once more we asked to be allowed to vote, and once more we were denied. By this time, we were getting tired of dealing with the Egyptians working the entrances. So we insisted that we be allowed to speak with and American. reluctantly he directed us again to the main entrance. Upon our arrival we repeated our request and were ushered through a corridor until we stood before a checkpoint manned by a marine.
After listening to our plea to vote, the marine notified us apologetically that voting was indeed closed, but that she was very sorry. Feeling dejected, Eric and I were about to cut our losses and head home, when a middle-aged man wearing a blue suit strode up. he slapped his passport down and told the marine enthusiastically that he was there to vote. The marine relayed her apology to him, but he wouldn't have it. he notified her that we (he included Eric abd I) were American citizens and that we had the Constitutional right to vote for the President. Furthermore, he said, the embassy was technically American soil, and since it was November 4, we must be allowed to vote. Well, upon hearing this declaration, the marine got on the horn to one of her superiors.
After a few minutes, the marine hung up the phone and instructed us to head to the side entrance that Eric and I had visited twice before. So this time the three of us felt sure that we would be admitted so as to vote. However, our old Egyptian friend at the window had other plans. He insisted that we were not to be allowed inside, and that furthermore, the embassy was closed to visitors. This bit of news did not sit well with the man in the blue suit. He launched into a tirade on the Egyptian, quoting from the Constitution, declaring our freedoms as Americans, and all but demanding that we be allowed to vote. While taken aback, the Egyptian insisted that we could not enter. It was at this moment that the man in the blue suit played the trump card. He delivered an ultimatum: Either we would be allowed to vote, or he would call CNN and have them at the window in 10 minutes asking why American citizens were not being allowed to vote at their own embassy.
The man's eyes grew wide and he quickly begged the blue suit man to not follow through with his threat. The American in the suit then instructed the Egyptian to call Hanes Mahoney. Hanes Mahoney was the embassy director, and as we discovered, a personal friend of the man in the blue suit. It was at this juncture, while the Egyptian man was on the phone, that the American in the suit introduced himself to Eric and I. He told us his name was Darryl John Kennedy and that he was a composer and musician. He explained that he traveled the world giving concerts and performing for different foreign dignitaries and high caliber events. Just the night before he had performed in the Cairo Opera House, and he was currently finishing a six-month tour of Egypt. He continued by adding that his position afforded him many influential connections, including the directors of the American embassy, the Egyptian correspondant to CNN, and a slew of famous Egyptian actors and directors. In fact, he informed us that he had just completed the score for a major Egyptian movie set to be released in early 2009.
Needless to say, Eric and I were more than mildly impressed by this revelation. We continued to chat until the Egyptian man at the desk called Darryl over and passed him the telephone. The embassy director was on the line. Darryl greeted the man as if he were speaking to an old friend. After a light exchange, Mr. Kennedy handed the phone back to the man at the desk. Finally, the door was opened and we entered the hallowed inner sanctum of the complex. The Egyptian man was very apologetic and he made every effort to expedite us to the makeshift polls. And so it was that at 5:15 we were able to vote for President of the United States.
Afterwards, Darryl gave us his personal cell phone number and told us that if there was ever anything we needed, that we shouldn't hesitate to call him. We thanked him profusely, and then parted company.
Still awake? I'm impressed. Stay tuned for the next installment. Coming soon. I promise...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment