Corpse Run 185: Holy forecast
While events like the above strip do happen to me from time to time, when it comes to being confronted about religion in New York, I am more often than not asked if I’m Jewish. I guess my dark hair, big nose, and glasses or something. Stereotypes, such fun!
My favorite instance where someone mistook me for being Jewish went a little like this:
I was walking around Washington Square Park when a man donning Hasidic clothing and haircut was staring at me. I figured he just caught a glimpse of me and kept walking. After a block I turned around and he was right behind me; he had been following me. Once I stopped he quickly blurted out, “Are you Jewish?”
“No, sorry,” I said.
“Oh,” he said absentmindedly, “nobody’s perfect.”
Then he just walked off, leaving me confused on the sidewalk.
People will very often think I’m Russian as well.
In the store one day a man came up to me asking if I was Russian. Now, during high school I had a Russian friend, and every phone conversation I witnessed him having with relatives contained only one word from him, “da.” I then learned that “da” meant “yes.”
As I joke, I told the man “da.”
Suddenly, he started talking really quickly in Russian and kept going despite my best efforts to stop him. After about a minute or so of speaking Russian, he walked off, again leaving me totally confused.
I get confused a lot.