Thursday, April 30, 2009
Dead cook, hour in a Mosque, woman face down between bikes
The man who made my club sandwiches at work died. The sign didn't say how and I'm not sure anyone knows why. They put is photo up, along with his daughter, in the little sign holder thing that usually tells everyone in the cafeteria what the day's specials are.
About seven hours later I was in Au Bon Pain during an Arabic lesson and my teacher told me he had found a job in Egypt and had to leave on Wednesday. He is teaching at the University I want to go to in Cairo, teaching the class I want to take.
He said I could go to the nearby Mosque and meet some native Arabic speakers. So I did. It was like when you go into a Church and they try to get you to "find Jesus." Only it was more friendly, and they weren't aiming for Jesus, and I had to take off my shoes.
Finally around 9:30 p.m. on my way back to the T Station I saw a woman on the ground between bicycles with her eyes closed, wheezing. She looked homeless. So did the guy who has dancing around her swearing about "passing out on my bike" and saying "it yo' fault" and saying "they gonna call the cops."
The woman said something about needing oxygen so I called the cops.
And so ends my day.
Posted by Skizzler at Thursday, April 30, 2009