And No, We've Never Met Tom Cruise

In Jordan,when a policeman wants to stop you from speeding down the highway, he simply steps onto the road with a handheld stop sign and waves you over.  Even if you are going 60 miles an hour.  Even if you are in front of a 2,000 lb. mack truck with a long stopping distance.

So, even though the NYPD is there, trying to teach the Jordanians their ways, there are no Sipowitzes or Kojaks in their ranks.  They would rather sip their tea in their SUVs than actually pursue a criminal down the street with flashing lights.

This laissez-faire attitude was actually a huge benefit to those of us that liked to speed down to the Dead Sea away from the pressures of work in Amman and who also were not proficient in Arabic.

For you see, if you were stopped and you feigned language ignorance, most of the Jordanian police force would shrug, say "Welcome to Jordan," and let us go. It was the best defense ever.  That is, until we met Mr. Orange County.

Mr. Orange County pulled us over right at the start of a small village located right on the Desert Highway.  Apparently, the speed limit lowered to 40 to accomodate the villagers crossing the road for Mosque, but we were still going 60 in an effort to get ample pool and margarita time before the sun set.

As we pulled over, this tiny man with a handlebar mustache that took up a majority of his lower face strode up to the car.

MOC: "klsdjfkljsdkljlkjdklfjskldjfkjejoiwuerioiqwogj" (which in Arabic is loosely translated to: Did you know you were going so fast you assface baboon?)

Husband: "Um...No Arabic.  Only English."

MOC: "Oh Americans! I have a cousin in Orange County, have you ever been there?  Oh it is so beautiful there, do you know Brad Pitt?"

I forgot to mention that when you tell someone you're from America, they usually think that you must then be best friends with President Obama, Angelina Jolie, and most of the cast of General Hospital.

In any case, we were so taken aback that we had a good 10 minute conversation with this guy who spoke near-perfect English. He gave my husband Arabic pronounciation lessons ("no, in the back of your throat...chhhhhhhhh....like your coughing, no from the back BACK of your throat").  He told us about his favorite book.  I think for awhile we talked about the problem in the economy.

Finally, when he had been adequately entertained, he warned my husband that he had beautifully precious cargo (me!!) and that he needed to be more safe.

"And if I am ever in Orange County, I will come visit you," he finished.  "So, off you go.  Welcome to Jordan."

This is my submission to this week's Writing Challenge over at MamaKat's.