Why do Middle Easterners Hate Americans? – Amman, Jordan

Preamble: Over the next several Blog posts, I will recount, in detail and as an American, very real yet different experiences I lived through in various Middle Eastern countries that speak directly to a what many claim to be either a very provocative myth or fact: Why do Middle Easterners Hate Americans? From watercooler claims to media reports, hyperbole or fake news, I will substantiate what I say by offering photo evidence or documentation, and may the chips fall where they may…

I will begin with 10 hours in Amman, Jordan.

…He then looked at me, looked again at my passport, then looked back to me and without asking, he grabbed my carryon from the scale, kept my passport, and turned around and started walking away, behind his counter, away.

23 September 2014: To set the proper context, I’m a big guy: 6’5” and 250 lbs on a good day, and I’m all American -- meaning I don’t blend. Because I’m tall, and walk tall, people notice me when I enter a room or walk from here to there. Why is this important? Because I’m hard to hide and my voice can carry if need be and I’m not afraid to speak up. I’m a businessman. An oil and gas entrepreneur who, with a couple others, endeavored to set up a start-up business in Dubai.

After a busy couple weeks in Dubai, I was headed home to Chicago with a long layover in Amman, as the cheapest Business Class seat I was able to book was with Royal Jordanian Airlines (link). I’ve only flown with Royal Jordanian once before, and RJ Flight 615 arrived in Amman on time, a little before 23:40. Since I was seated in 3H, I was among the first passengers off the plane and wanted to find a Royal Jordanian representative, or anyone, to inquire where passport control was as the Terminal was seemingly in the midst of some remodeling. I was already on the phone with Brad, our VP of Finance and former US Naval Officer, talking about trade finance, credit facilities, etc., when it was my turn at the Royal Jordanian Airline counter. Without ending the call, I saw the RJ representative motion for my passport, which I gave him, and he quietly asked if I had any luggage. I mouthed, “just my carryon”. I travel light. I’m still on the phone with Brad. He then looked at me, looked again at my passport, then looked back to me and without asking, he grabbed my carryon from the scale, kept my passport, and turned around and started walking away, behind his counter, away. He did, briefly, turn around to tell me to “follow him” which I did, immediately, by either stepping over the scale thing, or walking around his counter. I can’t remember. I didn’t take my eyes off him. He had my passport. I’m still on the phone with Brad…

The RJ representative kept walking, deliberately, past passport control -- although he did nod to the passport control officer -- but kept walking. I’m now making an effort to keep up and I remember it being a bit unnerving, but it was also happening fast. He had my passport. Not a lot of time to think. Nonetheless, I’m still on the phone with Brad. Was I in trouble? Was I flagged? Passport control acknowledged the RJ representative… Acknowledged what though?  I’m giving Brad the play-by-play now. Brad said, “…just see where he goes. You’ll know soon enough.” OK. I was seemingly always 6 or 7 paces behind the RJ representative as he kept walking. We’re now walking down an escalator and past luggage claim, similar to the photo (link), and he’s walking out the door, outside to the curb -- with my passport and my carryon.

There was a white Ford van -- not a panel van but an 8-seater van with windows -- waiting with the side sliding door open, and the engine running. There were no other passengers in the van. Just a driver. I slowed a bit and told Brad what was happening and he said, “…what are you going to do? He’s got your passport.” I said, “…I got to see this thru. If you don’t hear from me in 30 minutes, call the US Embassy. You have a copy of my passport in my personnel file and my itinerary.” I then hung up as the RJ representative opened the front passenger door and handed my passport across to the driver and put my carryon on the front seat. He then motioned for me to get in the van via the open sliding door. So, I did. I couldn’t tell you why. I just did. The RJ representative then slid the door shut and the driver pulled away toward Amman. No one else is in the van.

The driver, in broken English, told me that he’s taking me to a hotel. Which hotel? I didn’t make a hotel reservation. I asked the driver for my passport. He said they need it at the hotel, and held on to it. …but he didn’t ask for my phone. I chose to stay calm and didn’t respond. I had to see this through. About 25 minutes later, we pulled up to a beautiful hotel in center city, Amman. I forgot the name. The driver got out and handed my passport and carryon to the hotel porter who then welcomed me to the hotel, and with a smile said, “…they’re waiting for you at the reception counter.” But I didn’t make a reservation. The driver of the van left and now I’m 25 minutes away from the airport, but at least I have eyes on my passport and carryon.

I got to the hotel reception counter and a very nice lady, warmly said, “…Welcome, we’ve made some food for you, and made up a room with a king bed so you can get some sleep. You are our guest. We’ll wake you in time for breakfast and a shower, if you like, and then a driver will take you back to the airport in time to catch your flight to Chicago.” I said, “…I don’t understand.” “…I’m no Diplomat. Nor a wealthy businessman.” “…Why me?” She said, “…but you’re an American, and we [Jordanians] appreciate all what America does for us.” “Thank you, Sir.” I was speechless. It was 01:45. They had way too much food, mostly local dishes, set up for me. I ate some. Briefly called Brad to say, I was good. Slept great. And woke to an amazing breakfast.   

24 September 2014: A driver was ready, and waiting for me when I exited the hotel. I had my passport and carryon in my hands. I paid nothing for the room or food. Nothing. They wouldn’t take any money from me. The driver drove me back to the airport and an RJ representative was waiting for me at the curb. The RJ representative then took my carryon and escorted me thru security and passport control, and then directly to the gate, where the gate agent escorted me to seat 3H, again, on flight RJ263 to Chicago. No fanfare. Not asking for a “review” or promotional photo. Just uncommon humility, and their heartfelt thanks to an American.

Absolutely amazing.

Who does this? Who does this for a random American? The warmth, generosity, kindness, and humility of Royal Jordanian Airlines, and the Jordanian people was truly remarkable. I wish I got the name of that RJ representative from the evening before.

So Why do Middle Easterners Hate Americans? They don’t. Just the contrary, and this American is grateful for our friends in the Middle East. Some will say this was anecdotal. OK. Perhaps. Look for my next Blog post Sunday…