Black cats and generals

Apr 10, 2008 23:45

The general comes down the stair with an entourage. Hussein is coming up the stair. The colonels come down ahead. You have to look them in the eye because they do you. Hair slicked back. My decoration in my lapel. Hussein was glad to have asked the sergeant at the security gate if there were any hanging threads. "Turn around," said the understanding sergeant, "You're good."

A general is sort of like a black cat. You hope he doesn't cross your path, you don't seek them out, and you see them only rarely. So, imagine my surprise when, after crossing the parade ground and scurrying into my classroom, to see two of them waiting for me. For once, everything went as it should. My presentation on X-stan went off without a hitch. The following debate was spirited. Time flew. We trooped out right on the hour.

You must know that Hussein rides the bus. General X pulled up and popped the door open. I was surprised not to see his driver behind the wheel. This was the same General who had just been on television, who had just been in my course... Turns out he is of Turkish origin as well! Three years ago I was teaching snotfuck trade school children. Everyone should spend an afternoon being paid to provoke questions from people who are perfectly qualified to satisfy your curiousities.

Well, dis donc, this sequence of courses has gone exceedingly well.
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