Story about a shirt

in #story3 years ago

Back in 1979 I was #travelling across the middle-eastern countries and going wherever the wind blows.

I was in Iran then and went broke. I coincidentally found a job at a restaurant. We served several frequenters each day, most of which are not Iranian. Culture shock and delicious meals were two common things of my routine. Fayyad was a frequenter as well, an Arabian customer who was #obsessive about the #mackinaw shirt I was generally wearing. Whenever he saw me he was bragging about it saying "nice shirt buddy" with a bad accent. As a matter of fact it was just a casual shirt with blue and black checks I was wearing during work hours. Fayyad kept on this ritual of bragging for a couple of weeks. Whenever he said "nice short buddy" he had the same tone of voice and the same expression on his face.

One day a German customer showed up with a couple of beers in his hand. Radical Islam was taking human life by the storm those days. As alcohol was forbidden by religion, it was impossible to drink it in public. Seeing something hard to find in front of me I asked the German customer to drop me one bottle. While I was drinking the beer at the back side I spilled a good deal of it on my shirt. Upon the boss' permission I left the restaurant and started walking home to change the shirt. The distance between the restaurant and my place was more or less 1 km. I could hear what people I was passing by were saying behind my back. Not long after, guys in turbans and cloaks started following me and they were getting more and more crowded, because I was the devil itself and these fellas could ironically perceive the smell of alcohol very well. Then they got even closer to me and I started running. I turned a corner and bumped into somebody I couldn't identify in the dark. With a big grin on his face and a stare right on my shirt this fella was Fayyad himself. he said "nice shirt buddy’’. I immediately asked whether or not he wanted the shirt and offered it to him in exchange for his t-shirt. He gladly accepted it. I gave him the shirt fast and moved off without a backward glance. Fayyad's never made it to the restaurant and I've never heard of him ever since.

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