Wednesday, December 19, 2012
In my most extreme case of having too much time on my hands, I tried to restore American-Pakistani relations... one peanut-butter and jelly sandwich at a time .
It began when I was buying a jar of peanut butter from my uber-local bodega (that's in the NYC vernacular, not a spanish vineyard). The cashier Abdul told me that he'd never tried peanut butter and he really didn't know what it was.
That was my cue to don my ambassador hat and show Abdul a classic American meal.
The next day I whipped up a delectable pb&j sandwich (in case you're wondering: smooth, strawberry, on wheat) and brought it down to Abdul accompanied by a cold glass of mediocre Spanish milk. I was hoping Abdul would take a bite and be overjoyed with the greatness of America.
But he simply put the sandwich aside. Maybe because he wasn't hungry, perhaps because he feared I was an American agent trying to kill Pakistani immigrants one poisoned sandwich at a time in retaliation for that whole hiding Bid Laden thing.
Either way our relationship was more beer-buyer/cashier than father/son, so I wasn't about to force him to take a bite.
The next day I asked Abdul what he thought of the sandwich. He told me it was OK. I'm not sure if he ever actually ate the sandwich, but either way I'm pretty sure that the USA and Pakistan are much closer as a result.