175.
The highway to Amman reminds me old Route 66 in Arizona except for the co-ed gangs of workers repairing the road by hand. The girls wear long skirts of bright red, purple and green satin and laugh as they pass baskets of pebbles to each other. The hard work in the hot sun hasn’t broken their high spirits!
At the border the Jordan customs policeman spots a copy of Playboy magazine I picked up somewhere in my stuff. “Why do you carry this?” he asks. I really don’t know why I carry the stupid rag, but improvise: “Because I like beautiful things.”
He feels this kind of literature will corrupt his countryman's morals, so he confiscates it and tucks it under his ammunition belt for safekeeping.
...
No comments:
Post a Comment