Skip to main content

I watched the 1990 World Cup final with my friend who showed up a little late and thus missed much of the pregame ceremonies. He finally made it there just as the game was about to start. In spite of the hot summer weather I brought some tea and pastries for us to eat. Following the singing of the national anthems the teams began getting ready for kickoff. The crowd was chanting in unison although I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying so I turned to him to see if he could make it out. “Are they chanting Iran?” he asked me prompting us both to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of his suggestion. After suffering through that 90 minutes of vomit and an ultimate German win, I walked him outside and as we chatted a bit and he got ready to leave my exact words to him (with the final still fresh in my mind) were "عجب جام جهانی ک**ری بود." 


 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...
Post a Comment
Read more
One day I took the minibus back from school. It was completely packed yet I somehow managed to squeeze myself in. I knew sooner or later some people would get off and per the unwritten rule of busses and minibuses everyone would gradually move towards the end of the bus and thus save me from getting crushed against the door. We had only travelled a short distance when the minibus stopped to let some passengers off. Another passenger and I stepped down to allow them to pass and as we stood there the passenger suddenly exclaimed, “What happened to my wallet? Did someone just steal it?” I wasn’t sure if he was serious or just making a not-so-comical scene about not identifying which pocket his wallet was in, however, it soon became apparent that his wallet was indeed missing. Initially I briefly considered the possibility that he might have suspected me as the pickpocket and thus directed the earlier conversation towards me. Once we were back on the bus though he repeated his commen...
Post a Comment
Read more
Has anyone ever danced on the ceiling?   
Post a Comment
Read more