The Right Card

I had the most unique opportunity in 2001.  I was a member of a cadre of 90 teachers who participated in a school reform project sponsored by the International Reading Association. We worked in teams of four who were familiar with and trained in the use of classroom strategies that promote student engagement.

My teaching partner, Susan, and I had already worked together for two weeks at a time in the country of Georgia for over two years.  A smallish, fit, blonde with brilliant blue eyes, Susan taught at Drake University, was ten years my junior.  I loved working with her. The only issue marring our relationship was that she turned heads, and I didn’t.

In mid-August 2001, we went to Karachi, Pakistan, and followed the other two members of our team--Alison from Canada and Howard from Australia--who were there for two weeks earlier in July.  We all knew each other which made email communication about the work easier.

In advance of going, all of us received instructions to dress very conservatively--covered arms and long skirts--as Pakistan is largely a Muslim country with a strict dress code for woman.  This was an edit not a suggestion.  Susan and I met somewhere in Europe and then flew into Karachi together. Unfortunately, Susan had bare arms and wore a skirt at her knee.  I noted this, but since we were to be met at the airport by the Canadian project director who would take us to our hotel, I thought there wouldn’t be too much international damage.

It was extremely hot when we landed, nonetheless we waited outside in the heat for our carriage that didn’t come.  After a half hour, I began to call an emergency telephone number repeatedly.  No one answered. As I said, Susan was a magnet, and I began to think she was the only blonde in the entire country.  To say nothing of her bare arms and skirt above the knees.  So, I did what anyone would do in this situation--I panicked.  I found a long-sleeve shirt  in my carry-on, handed it to her, and pointed out a bathroom for her to rearrange herself.

That solved one problem, but the issue of waiting for our ride remained.  We spotted hotel shuttles on the perimeter of the parking lot, but which one was headed to our hotel?  I don’t know why I had my Marriott card with me.  Was there even a Marriott in the largest city in Pakistan?  Now looking and being desperate, we approached one of the shuttles and asked if they would drop us at the Marriott on their next run.

The hotel looked pretty safe as it had armed guards holding machine guns at the entry.  I confidently put the card down on the registration desk, used my big girl voice, and said we wanted to check in.  To our joyful surprise, we had a reservation!

Sometimes one has to take the long shot.  And have the right card.