My day started with me over sleeping. That's not a huge deal, since my schedule is largely set by me. However, it did throw off my routine and had me planning to get on the bus at a time I'm not accustomed to. Just as I went out the door to go down to the street for the bus, it passed by. Again, no big deal. I just started walking. It's only a mile to the Metro station.
Just as I had turned onto the road that runs by the Metro station, a blue Tundra stopped next to me with the window down. The driver, with a thick accent, said "Metro?". I wasn't sure if he was asking directions, or my destination, so I asked him to say again. He said, "Going to Metro?", and I understood the intent of his question, so I said, "yes, thank you", and jumped in.
That happens from time to time, not too often, but since I'm always walking in uniform it is not a remarkable occurrence. Once it was a retired Army Officer, who I would guess was a General. Once it was a young guy in a beat up Volvo who said he was recently back from Iraq with USAID and the Army had ridden him all over Iraq in MRAPs, so he thought he'd repay the favor a little. Sometimes, I politely decline; usually because I'm almost home.
Back to my ride. As I got in, I noticed the big Harley Davidson sticker in the back window and there was country music on the radio. The driver (again, in the thick accent I couldn't exactly place, except European) asked where I was stationed. I told him the Pentagon. He told me that he "spends a lot of time at Arlington Cemetery". He goes on to say that he is a Patriot Guard Rider and they had just ridden for a Marine yesterday and they're riding for an Air Force Captain tomorrow. I told him that we really appreciate all the Patriot Guard does. He also told me that his grand-daughter is in the Army at Ft. Sam Houston. I said, "she must be a medic". He said that yes, she is.
He was wearing short sleeves and had several visible tattoos. I noticed one on his forearm that was a design with words around it. I don't explicitly remember the design, but I think it was an American flag. I was focused on reading the words, which said, "French by birth, American by the Grace of God".
How's that for blowing up your preconceptions and stereotypes? If I'd met the same guy under different circumstances (and recognized the French accent), I'd probably just thought he was another "frog" barely hiding his disdain for America. However, this guy was a pick-up driving, Harley riding, country music loving, 100% American who is more patriotic (when it comes to walking the talk) than probably 75% of the people who will read this.
Lesson learned: Great American's come in all shapes, sizes, and accents. Don't judge a book by the cover. I was proud to spend a few minutes this morning with my French born American friend.
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