I met Sammer in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. We flipped through
the book of youth hostels in the car; decided that was a neat name,
and they
had good prices and a hot-tub. Called from a payphone to make sure they
had room and looked forward to being able to get beds and showers that
night.
The folks who ran the place were hippies, seemed nice enough. I don't
remember much about the night we got in, I think it was late. Probably
it was
the next day that we met Sammer.
I don't meet a lot of other freak Arabs. He was Palestinian and had
the most
facial piercings of anyone I'd ever met in my life. For some reason
I wasn't
way into bonding with him; I think I got more into this riot-grrl chick
with the
motorcycle. C was real excited by him--yeah, well. She likes Arabs.
And he
was darker than me, besides, pretty exciting. They punkrock bonded,
I
remember something about ska bands while we were making brownies.
I do remember talking to him about the Gulf War. He had a video of
what
really went on during the bombings, he said; it would harrow me. Yeah.
It
sucked in Chicago, too. It was good to talk to somebody about that,
although
again I think C. was more enthusiastic about it then me. Yeah, I
demonstrated. Yeah. Not a great time.
(And all the time the guys who later beat us up were there, in the
background, not saying anything while we talked about the bombings,
eating
our brownies.)
And a bit of queer-bonding; if we wanted to find jobs with our current
haircuts, by all means check out San Francisco. But he and a friend
got
harassed by fags while holding hands, got screamed at, "Breeders!"
"What
makes them think I'm straight?" He was pissed. C just about died.
By the time we were bashed, he and that group had moved on. I like
to think
he would've done something if he'd been there, though I can't imagine
what.
(Few days earlier, talking about a border-check where the guards let
us right
through cause we were white; Sammer was real interested in exactly where
that one happened. Cops love Palestinian refugees with facial piercings,
yeah.) Riot-grrl chickie got on her motorcycle and moved on; told us
to be
grateful we were alive and forget about it and get out of there. Yeah.
I'm real
good at that.
Anyhow. That's where I got the name Sameira from. The guy who for
some
reason I didn't click with, too busy talking to some riot-grrl instead
while my
girlfriend cruised him. Thought about him a lot since then; missed
connections, what he's doing now. Watch out for yourself out there man.
Hope you're okay.