Who's the Freak?

"You just dry cleaned the towels," said Craig over a Cafe Americano at Coffee Bean this morning.

Okay, I admit it. I did something goofy. I dropped off Craig's sheets and towels at the laundry. I thought it seemed a little expensive but I've dropped off very little laundry in Cairo, having had a washing machine in my last flat.

And then I felt like an idiot again later, though it wasn't my fault and had nothing to do with laundry, but everything to do with clothes.

My hotel is full of tourists from the Gulf. Most of them are friendly, but when I got on the elevator tonight, a couple and two small children were on board. The mother was covered from head to toe as well as veiled. The little girl's eyes got big and she stared at me.

I smiled and waved at her, but she just continued to stare.

Was it my six inches of calf peeking out from under my Target skirt? My short-sleeve shirt? My lack of a head covering? She looked at me with her mouth open.

I met her mother's eyes with a smile. Her mother just glared at me, apparently stoney faced.

Yow. She hates me. Not very tolerant today, are we? I felt a little guilty for invading her small elevator and being a bad influence on her daughter.

I glanced away quickly but as I turned around, I spotted a toy.

The mother was holding the kid's toy.

A huge plastic machine gun.

So much for my guilt over being a bad influence.