Random Story #314

I have no idea what has possessed me to share this story, but it popped into my mind this morning and well, here we are.

I was in Las Vegas with my office for a dental convention. It was 2006, and I was 6 months pregnant with Rowan. It was really hot, as it is there most of the year, and I was laying out by the pool by myself. I don't remember why I was alone...oh wait, yes I do...we only had like 2 hours before we were all to meet to head to the airport, and most of my coworkers wanted to head down the strip to shop and see some of the other casinos. Well, I'd been to Vegas several times before this, and I knew how time and distance seems to escape people there, and I wasn't about to join them and risk missing my flight on my boss' dime. No way. So there I was, sunbathing alone amongst strangers at the MGM pool.

I was at the point in my pregnancy where I definitely looked pregnant, but I wasn't big and waddly and swollen. I thought I looked cute. I had confidence. I rocked a hot pink bikini.

In the sweltering upper 90 degree desert heat, I decided a smoothie was just what the baby needed. I wrapped a sarong under my belly, tied it into a knot at my hip, and made my way to the outdoor bar.

I got a few sideways glances from passersby for being pregnant and bare-bellied, but I didn't think too much of it. I was was standing in line behind a middle-eastern man. He turned around and looked right at me, lowered his eyes to my abdomen, looked me dead in the eye again, then turned back around. This man wasn't Indian, he wasn't Hispanic, He was a Muslim, and probably had ties to Al-Qaeda. Women in his culture don't even show much of their veiled faces or any of their bodies, lest their pregnant bellies. I was an infidel of the worst kind. I'd had sex with my husband, and there I was, brazenly showing the world the result. This man, I was sure, was furiously praying to Allah to strike me down. I wanted to bolt from the line to the safety of my hotel room. Surely the Taliban would soon be on the hunt for me.

The man turned around again. He was smiling and had kindness in his eyes. In perfect English, he said, "You're pregnant. That's great! I deliver babies for a living, I'm an OB-GYN. It's a beautiful thing. Well...good luck to you."

The moral of the story?

Don't stereotype people.