Since in the past couple of days my family has decided that we may be going to Jamaica in June to celebrate my cousin's wedding, I need to acquire a passport, a long, arduous process, that will take quite a few months. One of the first steps is getting a passport photo. So, my Dad and I went to CVS today to accomplish just that.
Let me remind you that I just shaved my head. Now let me clarify: I did not bic it. I am not Mr. Clean in any way. There is still some hair, likened to a tennis ball, or a hairy egg. But the cheerful CVS photo attendant took my picture against a blank off-white canvas. Between the neo-Nazi shaved head and the sullen gloominess of my face on a Sunday morning, I look like a full-blown terrorist.
However, I still find the humor in the irony of this situation. My passport, the document that gives me allowance into other countries, bears a picture of me that I liken to that of a terrorist. I am in no ways a terrorist; far from it. I love my country to the fullest and would never produce harm to it, or any country for that matter. But with a shaved head and a little scruff, (and imagine if I had a tan!), well then like the famous poet Paul Simon once declared, you can call me Al-Jazeera.
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