The answer to this question is easy and probably common knowledge. However, I thought may be I use the current situation in the Middle East, and write you a personal story. A true story which happened to me to show you, how life in Middle East is and why we hate our governments. Fortunately the story is not gruesome and has some soap opera material in it to make more fun to read.
The year was 1974.I had worked in city orphanages of Tehran for two years. I worked in the counseling center for children 8-12 years old. It was the first counseling center in Iran, and it was run by two American educated Psychologists .There was also a British educated psychiatrist. They were great people and it was an honor to work for them.At the end of my second year the professors made a deal with the "Queen Farah Charity Society" to make a similar place for the orphanages which belonged to the queen. The new place was glorious. Our job was 1) counseling, 2) Participate in research programs which translated and normed American and British Psychological tests for Iran. The job was great and I was able to publish my first test. The only thing different about this place was that it was under the umbrella of the Ministry of Court, in other words we were elevated to be servants of his majesty the Shah of Iran. It was a terrible name, and an awful title. But it was a rich environment for work. We had access to anything we wanted. The place was a show case for foreigners and we were a part of it. The center for the new borns was as nice as a castle, the chandeliers were from Paris, and rumor had it that they had paid $30000 for it. Above everything else our identification card was the ID of "Ministry of the court of the king". It carried a low level security clearance. It was great for mischievous behavior of a 22 year old. For instance If a cup would stop you for passing the red light, you would give him the new ID rather than the drivers license, therefore you did not have to bribe him, and every morning you would get a salute from the officer. It opened many doors and shout many mouth. After all we were the "Servants of his majesty the shah of Iran". It was also a very good cover, as almost all of us were working against him underground.
I was madly in love with a classmate, no touching or kissing, just talking. Both families hated the idea. Her family were thinking that she is educated and pretty and can get married to whoever she wants , why should she get entangled with me, come to US and risk everything. My family was more mad they were afraid that my entanglement with her would prevent me from my schooling.
The elopement Plan:
We came up with a plan to finish school in Iran .Then go to the US and then get married with American laws and at that point they couldn't do any thing about it.
One evening when we were all together we went to a move, and then to a disco, and got drunk, I was dancing with some one when I noticed that my future wife to be is dancing with my best friend and kissing. I did not know what to do ,I did not want to look like a soar looser , I would have loved to get the so called best friend out and go one to one , but that was even worse because then every body would know. I just took the first opportunity and got out and drove home .I was sad, mad and drunk. I noticed my face was getting wet, I touched the eyes and, here I was crying. At first thought I got happy I had not cried since my adolescence. But this was no good, I felt like an idiot. In one night I had lost my future wife and my best friend.
I got home and did not sleep all night .the next day was spent in bed feeling sorry for myself. In the evening my father arrived, I borrowed his car which was much faster than mine. I stopped by the local bar, ordered Vodka, drank it the old fashion way, a big glass 90% full of Smirnoff, with a little Pepsi on top to make the taste tolerable, drank the whole thing in the first attempt, filled up the glass again, same way, and out the door.
Began the ride through the mountains of northern Tehran and then the road to "Shemshak", this was the road that we would drive on and listen to Persian classical music. It was a scenic road, very pretty, day and night, in the mountains with deep valleys next to it. A person with a little brain would not drive more than 30 Kilometers/an hour. One small error and you would fall more than 1000 yards. I was driving far too fast. I wanted to let go and let the car fly off but it did not happen, may be too cowered ,may be too drunk, may be that woman and that bantered were not worth dying for.
The Road Back:
Not as drunk, but drunk enough, the rood was steep down. Driving faster and faster. Just a few more miles and I will be home. Suddenly a car comes out of a small alley right at me. It took all I knew, to stop the car without hitting him. It was a Rambler with military colors and license plate. I missed the bantered by a couple of inches. We could have been killed in a heart bit. I put my head on the wheel. The driver got out of his car, a kind of a chubby guy in cheap suits and a tie, may be 50-55 years old. He came towards me and , in an obnoxious manner told me "hey boy can,t you drive a littler slower" .I did not have that many choices again, I wanted to get out of the car and just beet the crap out of him. But he was more than 30 years older than me, too unseemly for a young man to beat up an old man, not honorable, totally unchivalrous, and not manly. I decided to just go, changed gears and sped away. Only a mile from the house, I noticed a car behind me honking like mad. I did not think too much of it, and turned left to our street, the car followed me, now I see it is the same idiot, he wants a fight. I will be glad to give it to him. But we are only 1 blocks from our house it is late, if I go towards home, there will be a fight right at our door steps, my father will come out, it will be a giant embarrassing mess. The best way was to turn around the block get to the expressway again and then take him on. A couple of fast moves and I am in the high way .I stopped the car and jumped out with full intention of demolishing him, chivalrous or unchivalrous, he is going to get the fight he wants.
As soon as I stopped he stopped too, he pulled a gun out, told me "hands up".
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