(This story is my revenge on a specific security guard in Cairo who was really annoying and conceited. Most security guards in Cairo were very nice to me.)
A long metal gate blocked access from the road to the bus station. The gate had been painted green nearly five years prior and was now colored green-brown hybrid that completely failed to draw the eye. For this reason, four and half vehicles had run into it in the last month.
Beside this mangled gate there was a guard hut. It was simply a large metal cylinder stood upright with one side cut away. Inside there was barely enough room for one plastic lawn chair. On this chair there sat a security guard. He sniffed as he watched the cars drive and the pedestrians walk. When a car wanted to enter, he was meant to get up from his chair and drag the mangled gate open. When a person wanted to enter, he was meant to get up from his chair and check their ID as they walked by.
On a normal day, he did neither of these tasks.
Today was a very normal day.
He leaned back in his chair, thrust his legs apart, and sniffed again. Maids in long dresses and simple hijabs meandered slowly past, avoiding his eyes. Women with pants and long hair sped by shouting into their mobile phones. Men in slacks and dress shirts marched through, nodding and muttering greetings. A delivery truck stopped at the gate and honked. The driver eventually gave up and opened it himself.
Time passed. The security guard sniffed and checked his watch. His shift was nearly over. He let his arm fall limply back into his lap.
At nearly 3:45, a man approached that woke the security guard from his routine and, for the first time in hours, he was motivated him to stand up. The man could best be described as "long." He sported long legs, long hair, long arms, and even a long chin. His clothing attempted but completely failed to blend him in with the other passers-by. All these details were inconsequential however, because this man also had pasty white skin.
The security guard lifted himself from the chair, and his legs seemed to remember their old purpose. He took a step forward and held out his palm to communicate that the man with white skin should stop. Once eye contact was made, he frowned to give an impression of seriousness, and also because it takes twice as many muscles to smile as to frown, and he did not want to strain himself.
“I.D.” was all the guard said. This was the first thing he had said in hours.
“What?” The white man said.
“I.D.”
“What I.D.?”
In order to clear up the confusion, the security guard thought it best to repeat himself in a clearer way, “I.D.”
“I live here.”
“What?” The guard’s ears had not quite woken up yet.
“I don’t know what you want from me, but I live here, I walk through this gate every day.”
The guard was only flummoxed for a moment. He knew how to handle this. Time to put his foot down. “You need an I.D.”
“I don’t have one. No one has ever asked me for one. And like fifteen people have walked through the gate without showing an I.D. since this conversation started.”
Ah, a tough guy huh. Well, the guard knew how to handle this kind of person: “You need an I.D.”
The white man stood there, looking at him, waiting for him to act. This pleased the guard; the complete dissipation of this citizen’s forward momentum, literally and figuratively, meant that the guard’s authority had been recognized. He stood for a moment, looking right to left and pursing his lips, just to be sure everything was at it should be. Then, with all the suave he could muster, he looked away and jerked his head towards the gate. The message was clear: I’ll let you off the hook this time, so go before I change my mind.
He returned to the guard hut and slowly lowered his weight into the lawn chair with the practiced focus of a man who has truly mastered the art if sitting. He leaned back and sniffed with comfort and superiority. Another job well done.
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