I found a way to refund your money! I’ve been offered $5,000 US to marry my cab driver so he can get to Texas. He’s a little drunk, so I’m not sure how serious he is, although I’m tempted to take his offer just to improve Texas’ average IQ. When he picked me up from a fellow journalist’s apartment, he helped himself to
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generous mug of vodka with a splash of freshly squeezed orange juice, which I’ve been asked to hold as we traverse the Hezbollah-controlled checkpoints. “I’m the only Shia who likes to drink!” he bellows proudly. Bestill my beating heart. If only he’d speed up, he’s driving so slowly, I’m afraid he’s falling asleep. He’s not my first proposal – or my last. In fact, 4 cabbies propose to me during the month I’m in
Beirut – a great record for me – each man willing to abandon his wife, children and familiarity to lay claim to my lovely American ring finger. “I will leave Lebanon. There’s no future for our children here,” says one cab driver, defiantly crossing his arms while we are stuck in traffic. “Madam Kelly, marry me?” # # # # #