07 In My Face
As I regained consciousness, I was startled to see a man’s face about a foot away, his eyes peering intently into mine. He introduced himself in Spanish as the head of the association of this gated community.
Rather than extending too much in the way of courtesy or concern, he began interrogating me as why I was in this house, and so forth, inferring that I was a burglar or up to no good.
I explained that the house was owned by a doctor friend of mine, Dr. Arias, who had just departed that morning with his wife and children on a vacation, leaving me to lock up his house and then head off to the airport to catch my flight.
The fellow did not seem to buy my explanation. As he persisted with similar, rote questioning, I was left with an indelible impression of where the popular term “getting in your face” comes from.
Rather than extending too much in the way of courtesy or concern, he began interrogating me as why I was in this house, and so forth, inferring that I was a burglar or up to no good.
I explained that the house was owned by a doctor friend of mine, Dr. Arias, who had just departed that morning with his wife and children on a vacation, leaving me to lock up his house and then head off to the airport to catch my flight.
The fellow did not seem to buy my explanation. As he persisted with similar, rote questioning, I was left with an indelible impression of where the popular term “getting in your face” comes from.
Labels: broken leg; getting in your face
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