The American Dream

I had always heard from my uncles stories of successful Bangal’s in America. Bengal’s who owned chains of convenient stores and drove taxis. It was my pursuit for a better life that led me to America.

  

I had just stepped out of the plane; the fresh airport smell hit me like a gust of wind. It smelled different…different than the raw sewage stench I had grown to love in India. Maybe coming to America wasn’t such a good idea.

I made my way through the boarding bridge and went directly to customs. I stood in line for what seemed like an eternity, but when I looked at my watch only to realize five minutes had passed.

The man in front of me finished his verification and I stood in line until they called “next”. I stepped up to the customs officer and presented my passport. The woman opened my passport, looked at me, and said “Apu Nahasanamama?”, “It’s Nahasapeemapetilon” I said back. Immediately the woman reached for her radio, and said “code 911”, next thing I knew I was surrounded by the security.

I was escorted by security to a secluded room. After extensive questioning, background checks, and full body cavity searches, I was allowed to leave the airport.

I stepped out the main gates of the airport and looked at my watch. I was already an hour late for my first shift at the Kwik E-Mart. I thought to myself that I would surely get fired for my incompetence. Without wasting another minute, I called a cab and headed for the Kwik E-Mart. The whole cab ride I looked at the cab driver with envy as he was living the dream life, the life I wished to lead.

Once the cab arrived at the Kwik E-Mart, I reached for my wallet but could not find it so I opened the cab door and started to run towards the Kwik E-Mart. As I approached the automated door, it opened and I ran inside. I was surprised with the barrel of a pistol pointed at my chest and my cousin Sanjay was behind the register with his hands in the air. Without spending a moment, the man told me to get on the ground. I had no desire to get shot so I did as he said.

I lay on the ground with my head down; my life flashed before my eyes and I realized all the opportunities I missed in life.

I looked up to see what the robber was doing and before I knew it, the door made the familiar “ding ding”. I looked over and there stood the cab driver with a shotgun. “Alright this is the last time you punks get away without paying me!” said the cab driver and then boom! Next thing I knew the robber was on the ground grabbing his groin. I stood up and thanked the taxi driver and explained to him all that happened. The taxi driver then said “so you didn’t call the police yet?”, “No” said Sanjay from behind the register. The taxi driver then looked at me in silence, raised his gun, and said “give me everything from the cash register”. With the gun pointed at my face, I realized America was not as glorious as the stories made it out to be.