Profiled at JFK: A New Experience for Me

Q: "Are you American? "

A: "Yes," I reply.

Q: "You don't look American."

[Confused pause on my part - What does one say to the guy in customs who questions your nationality when he has your passport in hand and you only have your face as collateral?]

A: "Muito obigado." [Translation: "Thank you very much." Processing internally:  I consider it a sign of my success at cultural competence and appropriate behavior to not immediately be marked as American when a guest in another country - although I'm a bit surprised that I seem to be wearing my citizen-of-the-world identity so obviously once I am home.]

Q: "What's with the beard?" The officer glances at my passport.

A: "Excuse me?"

Q: "Your beard. It looks like it was cut like you are supposed to cut it. Did you convert?"

[Confused pause - Level 2]

A: [Tentatively] "No" [Light bulb goes on. Try humor.]  Oh! Asalam aleykum!"

Q: Your beard doesn't look American. Did you convert?

A: No [Practical dilemma: How do I prove that I am not Muslim? Moral dilemma: Why would I want to? Observation: Save humor for an audience that doesn't offer free tickets to Guantanamo as the consolation prize for bad improv.] "Aren't they supposed to not cut any facial hair? See I shaved my neck."

Q: "I wouldn't know."

A: "Sorry for joking. You're serious.  I forgot what your job is. No, I didn't convert."

[Having publicly professed my non-faith three times in a row I silently pray that I won't hear a cock crow and I head off to quickly find the first restaurant that serves pork - preferable Kosher - just to shake the guy in sunglasses, ear bud, and trench coat who I am sure I will see following behind me if I turn around quick enough.]

Aleykum asalam! Welcome home to America.