March 14 - Piggyback

As I wandered the side streets and alleys of Old Dubai, at every turn there was someone eager to sell me something--imitation watches, pashmina shawls, gold necklaces, T-shirts, etc. It was exhausting but exhilerating.
A midget Arab approached me carrying a tray of bottled water and juices.
"Would you like to buy cold drink, sir?"
"No, thanks. But I think I see somebody who could use a piggyback ride!"
"No, thank you, sir," he told me but it was too late.
"Get up there, you," I said, hoisting him up on my shoulders. He protested and begged me to put him down, but I could tell he didn't really mean it.
"All aboard the Piggyback Express! HOO HOO!" I shouted, intoxicated by the excitement of making a new friend in a foreign land. I charged us through the throngs of tourists and merchants, my little friend screaming to be put down.
"Not just yet," I laughed. "Not just yet!"
But as I wound my way down another street, it became harder and harder to ignore the fact that the merchants weren't cheering me on, but hollering at me to stop, to stop at once.
So I did, and I put my little passenger down.
"You idiot! Why don't you people ever understand that piggyback rides are strictly forbidden here! We're Muslims! Pork is unclean."
Oh, God. He was right. How could I have been so insensitive? As the merchants gradually went back to their shops, I begged him to forgive me, and at last he did.
"But what about a horseback ride?" I asked him. "There's nothing wrong with one of those, is there?"
"No. Horseback rides are fine. Just don't ask me to carry you, sir. You're twice my size!"
"No doubt, little man. If you tried to give me a ride, I'd crush your sorry ass like last week's dates!"
And we both laughed.