Since I started college two years ago, I've come across a few young Iranians like myself and, surprisingly enough, I've gotten along with them much smoother than with Americans. In high school I only made friends with Americans. Maybe it has something to do with my new craving for kabob and rice instead of the old hamburger and chili fries.
What has really amazed me about my new friends is how different some of them get on weekends. In fact, during weekends some Iranian men suddenly become the most uniquely gifted, significant, and richest people in the world.
This is a little generalization of Iranian males based on those I personally know:
It's a Saturday night in an uptown bar. An Iranian guy sitting next to a gorgeous blonde not only becomes half-Italian but his uncle becomes president of IBM. His mother turns out to be Italian and his Iranian father was King of Iran — making him Prince of Iran, of course.
In truth our man's parents are full-blooded Iranians who run a corner store in Iran. He himself is $50,000 in debt and has two years left to finish his bachelor's. But the blonde is totally impressed with the Prince of Iran and considers slipping her phone number.
In another part of town, in a stylish restaurant, an Iranian man orders from the menu. The waitress — a good-looking red-hair — finds her customer becoming more significant and wealthier as their conversation progresses.
He tells her that his father helped Bill Gates start Microsoft. He convinces her to quit her job as a waitress and join Microsoft as a sales consultant. The waitress becomes totally excited and tells all her co-workers that she is quitting for a job at Microsoft. He wins the battle and gets to take her out.
There's also another category in the Iranian male gene pool. These guys have a modest income. They reside in small apartments in order to have enough money at the end of the month to make payments on a fancy car — the one used on weekends.
Driving from club to club, you will witness nothing less than a new Mercedes Benz driven by an Iranian man wearing a sharp Versace suit. At the end of the night, he will make his way back to the shoe-box apartment. But he's been unlucky. Tonight he's home with his friend Amir, Jamshid or Hamid instead of Holly, Jennifer or Tiffany.
To me, these Iranians represent the true weekend millionaires and they must be praised for being able to fool Americans so well.
It is Saturday night and I refuse to be a weekend millionaire because I do not need to. My father is the Beverly Hills fashion designer, Bijan, and my cousin is the famous tennis player, Andre Agassi, who is also my client at Merryl Lynch where I am the president.
And yes, go ahead. This one's on me!