5:34 p.m. I check the time on my cell phone as I rest my weight on an uncomfortable bar stool. Different expressions of a 21-and-over crowd flash all around me; clouded in smoke, masks of forced smiles to conceal stress. I continue to stare at my cell phone as I await an acquaintance.

Just an acquaintance.

I notice two missed calls, and thus two voice messages. I already know what one of them has to say. But still I begin punching passwords, instructed by the female voice that once helped me set up my voice mail. Now I try to retrieve them.

Nothing that important. The first one is from the ìjust an acquaintanceî called Tina; apologizing. Plenty of static complimented by echoes; she informs my voice mail greeting that she is running a little late but she should be at the bar in about 20 to 30 minutes. She will take the cab instead of the metro.

The second is from my friend Joe; requesting. Trance music in the background and maybe the muffled giggle of another. He wants to know if I would like to go to Club Continental for Goth night. We wonít leave till after 11.

Click. Messages deleted. The faceless voice informs me.

Tina is a little late. I am glad we decided to meet at Lucky Lounge instead of a corner at umpteenth and whatís it called. While I wait for the bartender to catch my eye, I notice an attractive brunette with an alluring tan walk her way up to the bar and inquire if the seat next to me is taken.

It isnít.

I am supposed to meet a friend ñ well, actually, just an acquaintance - here to go shopping for a surprise birthday party.

So I tell her just that. After thanking me she sits down. I assume she is waiting for her friends too.

And the bartender continues to count his tips.

I order iced coke with lemon. She orders an apple martini. When our drinks arrive we begin in to sip our separate straws. Thinking our different thoughts.

I wait for Tina and the brunette next to me awaits her Ö date maybe? Ö as she smokes her menthols with pursed lips. Eyes bored.

Tina. My friend Jasonís new girlfriend. I am not sure how I feel about her just yet. The females in our group of friends have already cancelled her out. I think she deserves more of a chance, for Jasonís sake. Hence, as one of his only male friends, I promise him ñ and myself ñ that I will try to get to know her better. So when Tina called to ask if I would like to go shopping with her and help plan a surprise party for Jasonís 23rd birthday, I agreed.

We decided to meet at Luckyís bar in case we were late so one could wait for the other at the lounge, grab a drink, smoke a cigarette, converse with a stranger or watch music videos on televisions stuck high up on the ceiling.

And I do just that.

Until the brunette on my left decides to lean over and tell me she is glad that DC hasnít banned smoking from bars and clubs like New York.

I agree. A nod and a smile. She asks me if am waiting for a girlfriend. I tell her I am waiting for a friend before correcting myself - actually just an acquaintance. She tells me she is waiting for a blind date from the Internet.

I wish her luck. Meaning it.

Just like that, we begin a conversation, unaware of who is learning more from whom.

She asks me my name first. I inform her that it is Yasir.

ìYasir as in Yasir Arafat?î she giggles ìThatís kinda scary!î

I smile. Without nodding this time.

Her name is Laura.

I am tempted to ask her if it is Laura, as in the woman married to President Bush. Thatís even scarier. But I decide to shake her hand instead and inform her that itís nice to meet her.

She then inquires as to what I do with my life.

Instead of giving her a humorous reply, I confess that I am a senior at undergraduate college.

With a ìwowî she exclaims that she is also in college pursuing a journalism career.

ìThatís nice,î I reply.

She aspires to be a columnist in New York, writing about sex and singles in an urban environment, living in a chic apartment in Manhattan. I am reminded of my favorite TV show. I wish her luck.

She grew up in suburban Pennsylvania and asks me if I grew up here. I inform her that I am originally from Pakistan and am studying in the United States. She doesnít believe me. I convince her.

ìWow really? That place is going through some tough times right now, isnít it?î

ìWell itís had tough times for a while.î But itís never too late to notice.

ìSo you speak really good English. Didnít you grow up speaking Pakistanian?î

ìSure.î But I learned Amercanian at a young age.

She then proceeds to boast about how she is interested in different cultures. I try to look impressed, this time silently wishing her blind date good luck. Whoever he or she may be.

With a more serious expression now, she reveals that she once saw a documentary on television about women in Pakistan. It said women were locked up in houses and were not allowed to step out of their rooms all day. Some were even made to sleep with their faces veiled at night. She saw it on TV.

Trying hard to keep my own expression serious, I disclose that I saw Jerry Springer earlier in the day about women who were fed up with their kinky husbands. They loved their husbands but no longer wanted to go shopping with them with a leash around their necks. The next show was an exclusive on obese or unattractive women that wanted to be strippers and were given a chance to be booed or aaahed by strangers on stage. I saw it on TV also.

ìOh my God, I am getting a little tipsy,î she chuckles.

I donít know why she feels the need to announce that in a bar full of strangers.

ìSoÖummÖhee heeÖDo you, like, know Osama? I am just kidding.î

ìOnly if you know Timothy McVeigh.î

She tells me I am funny and she likes it.

I curse Tina for being late.

ìSoÖ seriouslyÖwhat do you think of this whole war thingy?î

ìWar thingy?î

ìYeah.î

ìI donít know. You tell me.î

ìI donít know. I am not quite sure.î

And not being sure is probably a good enough reason for war.

ìHey, actually, my dentist is from Pakistan, maybe Ö Masood Ö something Ö you wouldnít happen to know him, would you?î

ìYou know what, the name sounds familiar,î I joke before I wonder aloud if Laura knows a Paul someone I once met from Pennsylvania.

She tells me I am crazy.

I take that as a compliment.

Finally the familiar face of my acquaintance walks inside the bar, tucking her ID back in her purse. Her eyes search for me across the lounge. She dismisses yuppies with their ties loosened and their guts sucked in. She peers over men and women, engaged in small talk about anything and anyone. The men, hopeful and obvious. The women, hopeful but discrete. College interns trying to feel older with a martini glass in their hand. Businessmen wishing they were younger again, when beer was distributed in plastic cups on a rickety porch of a frat house and girls were easy to impress.

Finally Tina locates me sitting at the end of a bar.

She smiles at me. A smile of apology. A smile that wins me over. Suddenly I decide I like Tina. And I canít wait to tell Jason that.

Smiling back, I beckon her over.

Once the two girls are introduced, they kiss each other on the cheeks with delicacy that resembles hesitance, and each agrees that itís nice to meet the other. Even though they are probably trying hard to search for a flaw in one otherís perfect looks.

Outside, we put on our coats and make our way down the street.

ìSo who was she?î Tina asks.

ìOh just someone that struck up a conversation while I waited for you,î I reply.

ìShe was cute.î

ìNahÖnot really my type.î I dismiss the brunetteís blue eyes, great tan and perfect teeth.

ìYeah. She seemed kind of dumb. I mean, she just came across as a little clueless.î

ìNot clueless Ö just Ö uninformed.î

With a newfound friendship we dodge the tail end of rush hour traffic, planning a party for oneís boyfriend and anotherís good friend. And I think of the conversation I just had. It seemed to be the embodiment of all the questions I have been asked on an almost daily basis during my stay here in America. Laura and others have taught me that most Americans are very compassionate, very nice, very helpful and very friendly. I believe that if their knowledge extended beyond Gary Condit, Hurricane Isabelle and Anna Nicole Smith, they would be the most compassionate people on Earth. But for some reason, so many just don't know much about what goes on in other parts of the world.

I answer their questions. They answer mine. Who learns more from whom? I don't know. But would I call them clueless? No.

Just uninformed.

Yasir Shah has recently graduated from Allegheny College in Pennsylvania. Though he continues to write and get published, he still considers himself just an aspiring writer in a world of many better aspiring writers. He is a huge fan of Toni Morrison, Saadat Hassan Manto and Lil'Kim. He now lives in Washington, DC.

This article won Second Place in the Glimpse Fall 2003 Writing Contest, "Look Ma, No Hands!"

All Content Copyright 2002 The Glimpse Foundation