Xenophobia Nervosa
We have a fairly large contingent of eastern European employees at my office. They typically travel with their own and speak their Russian-ish language loudly to each other as they walk through the halls. This makes me very nervous.
The cold war may be over, but in this post 9/11 world it is important that we all remain vigilant (even if these aren't Russians we're talking about). When I hear their voices approaching me in the hallway, my body tenses up to prepare for combat and my eyes scan the scene, looking for anything out of place. The nose of an AK-47 protruding from a pant leg or a briefcase full of poison, for example.
When they are not traveling in packs, it is much more difficult to identify them. It is possible, though, by using other methods of observation. (a) They are usually wearing strange, somewhat fashionable clothing that doesn't quite fit into the mold of "business casual". (b) As you approach them in the hallway, they will seem to radiate with gloomy indifference. (c) Their faces may be covered with skin, but beneath that skin is cold, unmoving steel (d) When you are within striking distance and you say, "Good morning!" they will pass by without any suggestion that they realize that you exist.
I'm not sure why these people seem so bleak and robotic. I imagine that they go home to their barren apartments and make boiled potatoes for dinner with a small glass of tap water. Afterwards, they might sit on a stiff couch and stare at a blank TV screen in darkness, perhaps imagining winter in Soviet Moscow…perhaps just thinking about the color black.
One of them blindsided me today. I turned a corner and their she was. There was no time to be vigilant and I was forced to fall back on the impulses of the reptilian portion of my brain. A quick scan showed tight, faux-leather pants with about 15 half circle metallic loops lining the outside of each leg. She had dark, bushy eyebrows. Her hair was gelled and dyed bright red. She passed by and left a trail of particularly pleasing perfume in her wake. Cracker's "Euro-Trash Girl" began playing in my mind and I was struck by the impulse to return to Europe...immediately. It was terrifying.
It is vital that we all remain vigilant.
We have a fairly large contingent of eastern European employees at my office. They typically travel with their own and speak their Russian-ish language loudly to each other as they walk through the halls. This makes me very nervous.
The cold war may be over, but in this post 9/11 world it is important that we all remain vigilant (even if these aren't Russians we're talking about). When I hear their voices approaching me in the hallway, my body tenses up to prepare for combat and my eyes scan the scene, looking for anything out of place. The nose of an AK-47 protruding from a pant leg or a briefcase full of poison, for example.
When they are not traveling in packs, it is much more difficult to identify them. It is possible, though, by using other methods of observation. (a) They are usually wearing strange, somewhat fashionable clothing that doesn't quite fit into the mold of "business casual". (b) As you approach them in the hallway, they will seem to radiate with gloomy indifference. (c) Their faces may be covered with skin, but beneath that skin is cold, unmoving steel (d) When you are within striking distance and you say, "Good morning!" they will pass by without any suggestion that they realize that you exist.
I'm not sure why these people seem so bleak and robotic. I imagine that they go home to their barren apartments and make boiled potatoes for dinner with a small glass of tap water. Afterwards, they might sit on a stiff couch and stare at a blank TV screen in darkness, perhaps imagining winter in Soviet Moscow…perhaps just thinking about the color black.
One of them blindsided me today. I turned a corner and their she was. There was no time to be vigilant and I was forced to fall back on the impulses of the reptilian portion of my brain. A quick scan showed tight, faux-leather pants with about 15 half circle metallic loops lining the outside of each leg. She had dark, bushy eyebrows. Her hair was gelled and dyed bright red. She passed by and left a trail of particularly pleasing perfume in her wake. Cracker's "Euro-Trash Girl" began playing in my mind and I was struck by the impulse to return to Europe...immediately. It was terrifying.
It is vital that we all remain vigilant.
posted by The Youngest at 8:52 AM
1 Comments:
I love the way eastern European immigrants dress. I mean, you can't buy that shit at Khols or JC Penny's. They always look fashionable, but from a different place and time, like an away team from Star Trek.
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