Here I am negotiating for the safety of a planeload of people with a Sheikh named Abdul Rehilla, a member of a radical Indian Sect who had been involved in a train bombing in Mumbai, India, which killed, and wounded hundreds of Indians.
Abdul told me, we soon became fast friends on a first name basis, that he was really a nice guy, but was protesting his Sect being discriminated against, and didn’t know why his ultra-conservative religious Sect had developed a reputation as an aggressive and barbaric terrorist organization. I told him not to worry, that I had the answer to his Sect’s problems, and it didn’t involve crashing a plane by opening the door at thirty thousand feet.
I then spent the remaining two and one half hours of our flight trying to get Abdul to get his people to admit to the error of their ways and adopt my religion, Dialectic Materialism, and to get him to take his hand off the plane door handle. I told him how if his people would start to make commerce and acquiring wealth the focal point of their religion, they would start to get the recognition and social standing in India that they craved. I told him they needed to join souls with their enemies by touching each other in their private essentials, no matter if this was on a physical or emotional level. I told him it was the thought that counts. I told him that if he and his Sect embraced Dialectic Materialism, the people of India would eventually embrace them
After about two hours, Abdul broke down crying, took his hand off the plane door and embraced me saying he believed and was saved. We stayed locked in that embrace until we landed. My God he smelled of garlic. I don’t know if that was part of his religious ritual or just a late lunch before we took off that went wrong, but either way I made a mental note to outlaw the use of garlic by my flock. I wonder if Abdul was trying to ward off evil spirits and ended up with me.
Promptly upon landing, the plane was boarded by four air marshals and members of a special anti terrorist squad who immediately arrested and handcuffed Abdul and me. That’s right, that’s what I get for doing a good deed and saving the plane single-handed. It took six hours and the sworn testimony of the stewardess and the three businessmen to convince the authorities that I was not part of a terrorist plot, and to get me released. Airport security admitted that they always profiled men in white suits, but never those in white turbans, which Abdul was wearing. The woman who was head of the Hopewell Indian Charity refused to testify in my behalf claiming that it was people in white suits that had gotten her beloved Indians in trouble in the past. What did she mean by that? I made a mental note to outlaw good deeds, and white suits as part of the credo of Dialectic Materialism.
I am home now. God is good. And I am trying to steel myself for my next adventure. I don’t know what it is yet, but I have a feeling it has something to do with water, or is it walking on water? You can take my ‘word’ for it water is involved. I am the messenger, and I know these things.
MLMF (More later my friends)
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