Abdul Karim was needed back home. His uncle, a Shi'ite cleric, had passed away. He invited me, and considering I hadn't been to Iran before, I was excited.
At the funeral in the holy city of Qom, a woman caught my eye. She had an amazing face, and these beautiful curves that seemed to poke out from under her chadora. She noticed me too.
I made the rounds meeting everyone. My Persian is pretty bad (I needed my Boston friend with me: he's fluent, being the foremost expert on Iranian cinema in North America), and most of Abdul Karim's family spoke poor English... except the woman from the funeral. She was Abdul Karim's cousin, and she learned English at a very young age in one of the Shah's educational programs.
Well, it didn't take long before Fatima (that was her name), and I snuck off to some secluded area. The whole thing was a disaster. First off, she was a virgin, so not very good in the sack (a 39-year old virgin?); second, her family caught us, and I barely escaped with my life; third, without Abdul Karim's driver, I had to ride a mini-bus back to Tehran, which broke down twice, and rolled over once, killing two passengers; finally, at the airport, I saw Abdul and Fatima. Abdul brokered a compromise with his family, which involved me marrying Fatima.
Iran is not as quaint as their movies would have you believe. I needed a drink.
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