Dude, it's just a shirt

When I'm either cycling or teaching spin class, I wear typical cyclists' garb: stretchy biker pants, special shoes, and some sort of loud riding jersey so I can be seen on the road.  My favorite top is a replica of the jersey worn by the 1980 Soviet Union Olympic cycling team -- it is bright red, and emblazoned with the infamously yellow hammer, sickle, star, and "CCCP" on all sides.  As you might imagine, this shirt elicits the most comments -- especially here at Camp Arifjan, where it is not uncommon to see Brits, Poles, Estonians, or any number of other coalition troops mingling around with us.  I've even had chow-hall conversations with some Eastern Europeans who have told me they speak Russian better than they speak English, as they were forced to learn it growing up.

 

Early this morning as I was warming up for a long ride, reveille sounded and as always I dutifully stopped, dismounted my bike, faced the music, and saluted.  Moments later I passed a bus stop and was flagged down by a curious Staff Sergeant who asked me if I was from Russia.  I chuckled and said no, explaining that I bought the shirt online.  He sort of cocked his head to one side and said, "Isn't that Communist?"  I realized he was serious, but I was in no mood for an argument so I replied, "You're kidding me, right?  I suppose if that works for you then whatever.  It's just a replica of a 1980 Soviet cycling team jersey."  But this guy appeared honestly offended.

After a short, dumbfounded pause the Staff Sergeant replied:  "But that represents Communism."

Eager to get on to my workout, I said, "Look bud, I was a Russian linguist in 1989.  You can think whatever you want,"  and off I rode, while the aghast soldier remained on the curb.  

When I was in Russian language school, our teachers -- all native Russians -- prepared us for the final exams in reading, listening, and speaking.  One particular assigment I remember was an oral essay in which I discussed the issue of flag burning with Mrs. Rudikova, whom we affectinately called "Rude Dog."  Instead of taking the predictable kill-em-all stance, I told my teacher, in Russian, that there should be no laws against burning flags because flags are just cloth symbols and inherently, don't really mean anything.  Flag burners are little more than attention whores and if we just ignore them, they'll probably stop.  The look on her face was priceless -- and it was hard for me to keep a straight face.

Maybe the Staff Sergeant was confused because he saw a guy in a Soviet shirt saluting the American flag at reveille, or maybe he is just too young to really remember the 80's.  Maybe he never saw "Rocky IV," which everyone over 30 knows is the real reason Communism is dead.  (For last night's spin class, I played all 80's music, and one song was Survivor's "Burning Heart" from the movie.)  Perhaps the young NCO, like most Americans, is tragically too jingoistic to understand sarcasm or satire -- or that sometimes, a shirt is just a shirt.

He would have really been confused if I'd answered him in Russian.