"It's Okay, I'm a Foreigner."

One of my co-workers, who does not look Egyptian, gave me a ride home last week. Before he could do that, he said, he had to pay his TV bill. This required a stop on Tahrir St...a main street notorious for its lack of parking.

That didn't stop him, mind you. He just pulled right up into an illegal place.

"I shouldn't be parking here. I'm going to get a ticket," he said.
"It's okay, I'm a foreigner. They won't do anything if I'm in the car," I replied, as if trying to convince him to park there so I would have a run-in with the Giza traffic authority.

Off he went to the building, which was literally right next to the car. Two minutes later, there was a cop, dressed in white, sauntering over to the vehicle, ticketbook in hand. He made some faces at me so I opened the door.

I started off by establishing the extent to which I spoke his native language. This seemed to puzzle him, but he proceeded to tell me that the car should not be parked where it was. Then he started asking how many dollars I had. I wasn't going to be bribing anyone on this night, so I just told him to wait five minutes. He eventually yielded to the request and walked away.

Two minutes later, he's on his way back to the car. I open the door and tell him that there is no way five minutes had elapsed. He just said how illegally the car was parked and something about dollars. I wasn't too sure what to do as this point, so I asked him what his name was. I then told him I worked in the area, which prompted the usual interrogative stream of questions. "Where in Dokki? What street? What apartment number?" He then asked if I make Egyptian pounds or dollars.

Right then, my friend came strolling out of the building. As he approached the car, I said something to him in English, which prompted a reply in English. This must've scared the cop just enough...he was now dealing with a rich Turk and a whitey.

I offered my thanks and we parted ways. Crisis averted.