This is What Happens When Trump Becomes Your Guest of Honor
The Worst Affected by Anything is the Common Man
“These aren’t people. These are animals’.
A pompous Trump growled at me through the silver screen as I started a gray, dreary, unwelcoming day in a less fortunate country.
To set the record straight here; I am a completely apolitical person by design, by choice and also by compulsion.
So that means that, whether Trump grunts against immigrants every day or May buys time for Brexit every second day or even Putin conquers a godforsaken piece of land every third day, my life will still go on huffing and meandering through the broken mad ways of the daily grind.
In simple words, I am a stupid common man.
And I have neither time nor resources to appreciate the peripheral noise surrounding me as I go about my daily business of Living, Surviving and Thriving the rhapsody of a common man’s life.
But a stupid common man has some serious disadvantages.
· His life is ultra-sensitive. Casual decisions made from the top (Inviting Trump for Independence day for example) throws his life completely out of gear.
· Nobody consults him while throwing his life completely out of gear.
· Nobody apologizes to him after throwing his life completely out of gear.
Anyway coming back to my Dreary day…….
I started with a cold shower on a cold rainy day (A hot shower would have been nice but no power as usual in the mornings). Life is simple, no unusual expectations as a common man.
Next, a hearty breakfast of a localized version of American corn flakes (a bit soggy due to moisture in the air), washed down with a localized version of American fresh fruit juice (it is supposed to contain real fruit), and I was all pseudo energized to start the day. A little stomachache (probably the soggy flakes) threatened to play spoilsport, but my day had started in all earnest.
I walk to the bus stop, take the usual bus and occupy my normal seat. The girl sitting opposite me with greenish eyes and cauliflower hair smiles at me. It was her normal seat (another commoner like me). I smile back and the delicious thought of asking her name cross my mind again for the nth time. I dismiss the thought. No point of complicating life further.
Ten minutes into the bus, the driver starts throwing unexpected destinations.
“Hey Driver, this is not the route,” I screamed upsetting several bus sleepers in the process.
He pointed me to a brown piece of paper half-stuck on a window.
“Change of Route for today,” it said. My stop was not there.
“Why” I almost cried in exasperation.
“Trump has come. Key routes are being monitored and quarantined for security reasons.”
“But my office is in there.”.
He just shrugged sadly.
I get off the bus and try to get a taxi. Two guys refused outright (Trump is coming; roads are blocked). The third agreed with treble the fare. He also promised a “new” route by which he would take me (he had discovered this route and no one else knows about it yet).I had no option( sigh !! common man !!).
I just hopped in.
20 minutes into the “new” route, we ran into serpentine lines of cars.
Seems, everybody “discovered” this route after all. My cabbie acted shocked, unhappy, and pissed off (an unhealthy combination of all three that was not delightful to watch).
I had now officially crossed my “normal” reporting time to the office and I was not feeling happy about it with the boss’s mood swings getting uglier by the day.
We get to the source of the stoppage. My lungs had turned black due to the bountiful inhaling of exhaust fumes and my white shirt had transformed onto an alien shade of white, I had never seen before.
A large group of school children were dancing on the road, decked into colorful attire and waltzing in manufactured harmony.
“Trump may pass through this route.” somebody told me.
“He will be impressed with our talent and diversity.”
I looked at the children. My life is a little better I guess. At least I don’t need to dance in the rain, waiting for Trump to show up.
We cross a dilapidated bridge and reach a security check post. Again a serpentine queue. All cars and their unfortunate inhabitants are being checked for traces of Osama Bin Laden.
Our turn came. Everything was thoroughly turned upside down. The fact that, my cabbie had an unkempt goatee beard with an evil scar disappearing under his uniform added fuel to the fire.
Then an over-enthusiastic green cop noticed my lunch wrap. It was a shiny red and white paper bag with two sandwiches packed in.
“Open” he ordered, asserting his authority.
For the next 20 minutes, every slice of lettuce and every morsel of onion was dissected with precision to detect signs of biological warfare.
He gave back my lunch as a soggy inedible mass that went straight to the dustbin. I don’t blame him. He is another helpless commoner like me, doing his job.
I reached office finally. The meeting with the American delegation was mostly finished and people had started chit-chatting to fill the remaining time before lunch. My boss gave me evil looks. I pretended not to see.
“So Alfred, he is our product expert and he will be flying next week to the US to assist you in installation and troubleshooting” my boss announced pointing at me.
Not sure why, but instead of feeling elated (going to the US for the 1st time), an unknown trepidation gnawed at me.
“These aren’t people. These are animals.”
A pompous Trump growled at me through the silver screen.
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