As some of you know, I’m in the process of obtaining my driver’s license, and yesterday marked my first lesson where I was actually behind the wheel of the car. I showed up outside of the Donlands subway station at 3:30 where I met my teacher, Alpas.
He was wearing a Snuggie.
I wasn’t sure what to do with this. It was a cold day, after all, and Alpas, also sporting a traditional Kufi hat and an orthodox beard with no moustache, was clearly Muslim, and I wasn’t sure if what I thought was a Snuggie was just a winter version of the loose-fitting attire of many Muslim men.
Unable to contain my curiosity, I asked, “Are you wearing a Snuggie?”
Alpas looked me in the eyes, smiling faintly, as if trying to hypnotize me, “It is a Dishdasha, traditional wear for Muslim men.”
“But I can see the Snuggie tag.”
“It is a Dishdasha.”
I nodded.
“Okay, I get it”
I then explained to him that I had never been behind the wheel of a car, was nervous, got picked-on when at the bumper cars and always, always crashed my vehicle when I was playing video games. In short, I told him I was a challenge.
He looked at me in astonishment, like I was some sort of miracle.
“Really? You’ve never had a Driver’s License? But your age, I thought you must have had one at some point, but maybe you lost it because of drinking? Is this not true? You can tell me, we are teacher and student, we must be honest, as I was with you about the Dishdasha.”
“I don’t think you were honest.”
“You have a learning disability, I see.”
Alpas then talked to me about a number of boring car things before taking me to a parking lot where I was to get my first taste of driving. Excruciatingly slowly, I began to execute turns around a variety of concrete pillars. I felt very much like I was playing a video game.
“I feel like I’m playing a video game,” I said to Alpas.
“You are not. Signal and turn left here, let the wheel slide back into place.”
You should know that there were pigeons all over the parking lot. I was driving extremely slowly and so they saw me as no threat, walking away from me rather than taking flight. This irritated me. I found it insulting.
“There are birds everywhere,” I said, anger rising in my voice.
Alpas, ever calm, said, “ Do not worry about them, they will fly away, they will be fine.”
“I want to run over them. Is that normal? I feel like they’re taunting me and that they’re part of the video game and each time I hit one I get 1000 points or something.”
“They are not taunting you. They are just birds.”
“I guess I perform best when engaged in an incentive based structure.”
“I will give you 500 points for every bird you do not hit, ok? When we reach 10, 000 you will reach the next level and we will go out onto the road.”
“ Cool! How many points do I lose if I kill a bird? I have a feeling that this might be important.”