Friday, June 20, 2003

A Man for all Treasons: Part One

As a part-time laborer garnering little more than $10,000 a year, it is not often I find myself in the welcome company of modern females. It is sometimes said that a man of my position would find himself better matched as companion to the less discriminating--say, pigeon or ox--than endeavoring to impress an American woman on character alone, with no means to secure an evening of motion pictures or automobile riding. To this end I have found the internet an invaluable tool in concealing my basic impropriety and allowing me to behave very much as a man experienced in courting females.

Most recently, my efforts brought me to New York's Hudson Hotel, where I had for some time been corresponding with an employee whom I found to be convincingly female on all subjects. My sojourn in New York was to coincide with the opening remarks of Operation Iraqi Freedom--a moving occasion by any standard--and I anticipated a weekend spent in the throes of patriotic rapture, or unpatriotic rapture, depending on who was winning. Be that as it may, and because my companion and I were only meeting for the very first time, I suggested a policy of restraint, to which my friend counter-suggested a policy of restraints, to which I departed for New York ten hours early and in possession of little more than dental floss and a wide-brimmed hat.

Always harbouring a deep love of humanity, it is not often I allow my affection to be tested by venturing outside the confines of my home. My bus ride into New York was neither splendid nor without incident; I recall a bus filled with Chinese, and myself acting as the nucleus for an oasis of white college students. As one can expect, each race enjoyed liberal use of their cell phones; but insofar as I do not understand Chinese, I was very sorry to be seated amongst my peers.

When I arrived in New York, war had begun. CNN anchor Leon Harris, scarcely human under his trademark mask of cosmetics, beamed enthusiasm in announcing the start of "another desert war!" Such was the bedlam that I felt myself distinctly at an advantage: surely my companion would be more invested in the offenses of Saddam Hussein than the offenses, personal and financial, of her date. The truth was better than I could have expected: When we finally met she said to me, "That Leon is a waste of perfectly good affirmative action." I was taken by the hand with no mention of the hole in my pant leg.