Hah. My dad's an asshole. He's retired, and his hobby is flying around the world to crazy third-world countries and just hanging out, hiking around, so on and so forth. Well, a couple of years back, he goes to Jordan. Hangs out, hikes around, goes to internet cafes, does his thing. He buys himself a full native costume, thobe, bisht, headscarf, the whole nine yards.

Now, it bears mentioning that my dad's got just a smidgen of native American in him, and he's worked outside all his life, so he's a dark dude. And he's an old hippie, so he's got long white hair and a white goatee.

So, Mr. Funny Guy gets off the plane at Logan, and goes to the bathroom. My mom's waiting outside the gate for him, and next thing you know she sees dudes with SMGs running around talking on radios everywhere. And here comes dad, strolling through the airport looking like he's here to sell his oil fields. Thinking it's the funniest thing in the world. She wanted to kill him.