---------------------------------------------- Serious satire "Humor is a funny way of being serious" -Thomas Edison -------------------- To have your emails deleted please write to me at renatoobeid@hotmail.com -------------------- Copyright© 2001-2010, Renato Obeid

Archives April 2001 May 2001 June 2001 July 2001 August 2001 September 2001 January 2002 February 2002 March 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 January 2009 April 2009 October 2012
<< current
  • prequel

    "Top blog/Renato Obeid's World/Today's pick: This rambling weblog is worth reading not so much for its satirical posts but more for its insight into the minutiae of life in Lebanon, including the etiquette of road accidents and how to hire a taxi.” -Jane Perrone, The Guardian

    Tuesday, November 13, 2007  
    Just got back from my walk to Jounieh.
    Got into Jounieh at around 5.00am so I was there in time for the daily prostitute parade – the girls from the ‘’super nightclub’’ sashaying out of the club and onto the mini bus that takes them home.
    This prompted me to tell the taxi driver that prostitutes where the only ones making a decent living in this country these days.
    Make that prostitutes and taxi drivers because he then told me this story that illustrates the symbiotic relationship between taxi drivers and tarts.
    A young local man in his early twenties who works in Saudi Arabia and was back home for a visit approached the taxi driver (who looks at least seventy years of age to me) and asked him if he objected to taking him to an assignation.
    Surprise, surprise, the taxi driver said that he had no problem with that (no taxi driver would ever object to anything).
    So they gallivanted off to the highway near the nearby Casino du Liban where, according to the taxi driver, some ten to fifteen girls ply their trade right there on the road.
    At least somebody gets ‘’lucky’’ at the bloody casino.
    The sex tourist had already pre-chosen two sisters in their late twenties who stand on alternate sides of the highway across from each other plying their wares so they found and accosted them.
    The girls wanted a hundred dollars for the ‘’sister act’’ that the young man had in mind but he got them down to seventy five dollars.
    They then drove to a hotel in a resort area on the coast some fifteen kilometres to the north and procured a room for thirty five dollars.
    The young man told the taxi driver that he was afraid to be alone with the two girls so he insisted that the taxi driver accompany him inside.
    It was literally a single room so the taxi driver sat down and watched them for an hour.
    Why couldn’t I have been a taxi driver!
    I told him that it sure beats watching television.
    When the festivities were over, the sex tourist got the taxi driver to drive the girls to Beirut where they would catch a bus home to the South and paid him a hundred and twenty dollars for one and a half hours ‘’work’’.
    He paid more for the taxi ride than he did for the ‘’ride’’.

    I don’t know whether the sex tourist got his money’s worth from the slut sisters but I certainly got my money’s worth from the taxi driver/prostitution facilitator – two stories on two days in a row!
    But, still, I wouldn’t credit this to his skills as a raconteur – it’s more luck than anything else.
    I find that you can’t actually go out looking for stories or ask people for stories because, when asked, they’ll end up telling you the silliest and most irrelevant things.
    You really just have to wait and leave it to serendipity and coincidence.
    So I never actually ask anybody for a story because if you do, you’ll never get one that’s suitable.
    Anything creative is surprisingly random – a random encounter, a stray thought, etc.
    Initial inspiration aside, even if you set out to write the same story from the same notes on two separate days, you’ll more than likely get two different stories.

    Sometimes I think that I must spend more time on the streets than prostitutes.
    Sometimes I feel like the wandering Jew.

    5:15 am

    This page is powered by Blogger.