That's also a way to find someone

Not everyone has cute maids walking past their parking lot every day. And not everyone considers the maid partner-material. Take for example the lady who walked up next to us when we were waiting for Walid to arrive at the airport, Sunday night. She looked me up and down twice and asked Walid’s mom: ‘Foreigner?’

After that, a stream of questions followed. Who were we waiting for? Where was Walid’s mother from? What’s her family name? And finally, when the answers to the previous questions proved satisfactory: does she have a daughter? Because, see, this lady was waiting for her son. And her son, he’s a lawyer in America. And he needs to get married.

What an opportunity, an unmarried lawyer from America!

Walid’s mother had seen it coming, and denied her daughter’s existence. That did nothing to end the lady’s quest; she merely turned around to talk to the two boys next to us. Was that pretty girl she saw them with their sister? Would they mind calling her over?

The girl came and was subjected to a similar interrogation. Where did she live? Family name? What university did she go to? And how old was she? Again, disappointment: the girl was in her early twenties, her son in his late thirties. The lady shook her head and walked off, looking around for another suitable candidate.

I never saw him arriving, this lawyer from America. But I have no doubt she found him a wife.