"Dammit!" I said, running back out of the room before anyone could ask me why.
I hurried back through the cat-calls and commentary as fast as I could, down two blocks and into the Western Union kiosk. An American family of four was waiting for the cashier to exchange their money. It was a very small kiosk and I had to squeeze past them to get to the corner, where my wrapped up sword was lying on the ATM machine just where I had left it. I was happy to get it back and it was with a thrill of exhilaration that I squeezed past them again.
They were staring at me when I reached the doorway, so I paused.
"Forgot my sword," I explained matter-of-factly. Then I ran away into the night.
I trotted back to the hotel as the inky black sky closed in. Shadowy figures appeared lurking in doorways and the calls continued unabated, but I just smiled wide and invitingly and so no one tried anything.
"Speak softly and carry a Berber sword," I thought, turning into our hotel courtyard. It was by far the best purchase I'd ever made.
No comments:
Post a Comment