The Fady & Omar Story

Dear Friends,

I've got a story to share. The whole thing went down last week, and I hope that you enjoy my retelling of these events as much as Lyndsey and I enjoyed driving home from this event and laughing together. WARNING: This story is extremely long. I'm sorry, but there is a lot to cover.

As you've heard before, I'm car shopping, and last week I went to see a Honda Civic I found advertised online through a local publication called Bargain News. When I found the ad, I called on the phone to talk with Omar Sherif, the name listed in the ad. He got onto the phone and told me I'd actually need to talk with Fatty (that's how it sounded) turns out Fatty was actually spelled FaDy so he and I talked briefly but only long enough for us to agree that I could come by that evening and see the car.

I called Lyndsey and she came by to pick me up after work. We hopped in the car and drove a few exits north on 95, following the very simple directions from Fady, namely, "Go to exit 34, then call." So, as we were exiting, I called, got the rest of the directions and we made it to their wonderful "dealership." Things worth mentioning about the dealership include:
- They specialize in full sized vans and trucks
- There were about 4 vehicles on the lot that were not white full sized vans
- Every vehicle had at least two american flags attached to it, and the building had about 100 more sticking out or hanging off of it at various points

As we were parking, Lyndsey and I decided it would be wise to look quickly at the car before going inside. We wandered over, and somehow Lyndsey missed this, but there was a gaping hole in the dashboard of the car. This hole would have typically been filled by a stereo system, the controlls for the air conditioning, etc, and the two center vents for the ac/heatign system. None of this was in place. Instead, there was the hold and some really nice sets of wires sticking out in every direction.

I don't know why we went inside, probably because Lyndsey missed the whole hole thing. I'm guessing if she had noticed my story would end here.

Lucky for you, it does not! So having looked a little bit at the car, we wander inside and are greeted by Omar Sherif. He seems fairly jovial, and sits down behind a desk, telling us that Fady is in the back room talking with some people and we will need to wait.

To make conversation, I ask him about the hole in the dashboard. He says that this happened overnight. Someone (Fady, most likely) left the car unlocked last night and the car was broken into. He says we shouldn't worry though, he's already contacted the manufacturer and the parts are on their way, should be in tomorrow. He tells us how frustrating it is because this will cost Omar $500, and if only we had come one day earlier we could have had the car, stereo, ac, and all.

This was all very sad. But things started looking up when Omar lightened the mood by telling us, "Hey, I don't know, I really don't know anything, I'm just the owner, I really just sit around and drink soda all day." Lyndsey and I chuckled, but you know that inside we were both laughing out loud and thinking, "where am I again, and why am I here." Later I would learn that Lyndsey was also worrying that at any moment we might be shot or abducted because the whole office had a verry maffia-esque feel.

Having said what he did about soda, Omar got up and offered us each a drink. We both declined but he was fairly insistent, asking, "are you sure? I've got schweppes!!!" He was clearly pretty happy about the schweppes. There was at least one full box of cans in the office behind his desk, but he went into the back room where Fady was talking and grabbed 4 cans of schweppes ginger ale out of a fridge, came back and gave one to each of us.

For a few moments we talked with Omar, drank schweppes, and finally Fady's meeting started breaking up. A sketchy guy wearing a suit, a button down shirt that was, I think, completely unbottoned, and a bunch of gold chains came out (he was responsible for a good amount of the maffia feel) and showed Omar an advertisement he had helped them run in the Bargain News. He said to Omar, "look, I got you the best page!" and Omar responded, "Wow, the best page! You deserve the best soda!" and handed him a schweppes.

I think it's worth saying at this point that I have made up nothing so far, and I won't for the rest of this story. Every piece of this story is 100% true. I wish it were not, but it was so surreal that I'm sure you must be wondering if I'm embellishing here.

Anyway, moving on, Fady finally emerges, and to give you the best understanding of the situation, you deserve a description of the salesman. Fady had some of the most intensely spiked hair I've ever seen. It looked like he might have used elmer's glue, the spikes were so immovable. They formed little mountains of hair on top of his head, boarded by shaved sides. He also had a very nice goatee. It was one of those really thin goatees, and to make it more special, there was really only a very subtle transition between the goatee itself and the rest of his stubble. Speaking of stubble, he also had weird chest-stubble... as though he shaved his chest, but infrequently. Needless to say, his appearance alone put Lyndsey and I at ease. Clearly, this is the guy I want to be buying large ticket items from. Fady came out into the room and sat down in front of me. The dialogue went something like this:
"You're John, right?"
"Yeah, I'm John."
"Well, what can I help you out with today?"
"... um... well, we talked before. I'm here to see the honda civic."
"Alright, well what would you like to know about it?"
"... I ... guess that I'd like to maybe take it for a quick ride, if that's okay. I looked through the information in the ad you all put out about it."
"Oh... okay... sure, you can take a ride... but is there more information you need about the car."

At this point Omar Sherif broke in and insisted that Fady get the keys, a licence plate, and let us drive the car. He was pretty emphatic. Let's put it this way, he put down his scweppes to make sure that we got a test drive.

Anyway, we go out to the car, Fady starts it up, leans into the back seat to put a licence place in the back window, and wanders to the other side of the car, as I sit down in the driver's seat and close the front door. Since the air conditioning unit is... well... gone completely, I decide the prudent thing to do on a mid-70's to 80 degree evening is to roll down the window. Oh, and I put my schweppes in the cuprack. That was not missing. I tried to turn the crank for the window, and about half a turn into that motion, I hit some resistence, and the crank popped off the door into my hand.

The window did not move an inch. Fady, who is on the other side of the car by now, leans in that window and says, "what, you're already breaking pieces off it???"

Lyndsey and I wondered silently if he meant that I would soon be paying for breaking it. Clearly I had not broken the crank, so I just pushed it back onto the piece it had been hanging off before, and basically ignored Fady.

Lyndsey climbed into the back seat (where apparently Fady was giving her weird bedroom eyes through the rearview mirror for the rest of this story, unknown to me at the time) and we got on our merry way.


I came almost immediately to a light after exiting the dealership grounds and stopped, then took a right on red. About half a block up the road, I looked at the spedometer, thinking I was driving about 30 miles an hour if that. The spedometer read 70!!!

I triple checked it, but it said 70, I even looked to see if I was reading KmPH rather than MPH, but sure enough, it said I was flying down a neighborhood street at 70. Meanwhile Fady was telling Lyndsey and I about the drama surrounding the gaping hole in the dashboard. Apparently it had been a rough day for Fady and he and Omar had fought a lot. He told us how he could not understand people stealing car stereos. Fady threw up his hands in frustration, saying, "I mean really... what are they going to get for that radio??? $100? I mean, get a real job, do something legitimate... I just don't understand these people."

At some point, while complaining about the fights and the stress of his day, Fady looked down at the cuprack and saw my schweppes. "What, I'm the only one who gets no soda??, " he said.

Lyndsey and I both laughed.

I offered him my schweppes, telling him to feel free. He, however, would have none of it, telling us that schweppes is boring and he needed something with caffeine, maybe a coke. As we continued along the road going 70 miles an hour, I decided eventually that I had gone far enough. I had gotten the car into third gear... that suffices for a test drive, right? So I say to Fady, "hey, should I turn around at some point?" and he says, "What, you don't want to go further, get it going a little faster?"

I told him I thought we had seen enough of this fine machine, and he said that I could turn around by taking a right at the next stoplight. Then, he noticed there was a gas station on the corner. He asked me to park so he could go inside and get a coke, asked if Lyndsey and I needed anything, and went inside the mini mart to quench his soda craving.

Lyndsey lost it. She couldn't stop laughing except for the moments where she was asking me, "are we really here? Is this really happening? Why are we still in this car?" At some point I told her that as we were sitting there parked, the spedometer said we were going 30 MPH. She lost it all over again. It was all she could do to pull it together as Fady walked back outside the store to the car.

Meanwhile, did I mention that the windshield of the car was also cracked? Great stuff.

Anyway, we get back under way, take a right out of the gas station, and start driving back in the general direction of where we came from, but on a different street from where we drove before. As we drove, Lyndsey and learned a little more about Fady. He apparently doesn't only work for Omar Sherif. He also works as a club promoter for a very exclusive local club named Rain. In addition to these two demanding jobs, Fady also shared the fact that he sells really really high-end cars as a third source of income. Lyndsey, inquisitive as always, asked some pointed questions about his other sales job. She first asked if he sold really really high-end cars for a different dealership, or where this goes down. This question prompted an interesting response.

Fady told us that he sells the high-end cars as an extension of his club gig. You see, Rain is the kind of place frequented by people who like really really high-end cars, so when Fady is there promoting things, he gets into conversations (apparently fairly often) where someone will say, "hey, Fady, I really need an Audi-730." I'm pretty sure I just made up that car, but it sounds high-end, right? Anyway, Fady then, "gets it for them." Again, feeling like she needed slightly more information, Lyndsey followed up by asking, "well, what do you mean you just get it for them?"

This may be the point where we were closest to getting shot. Lyndsey thinks so. I'm inclined to agree. Fady, however, took it all in stride, and simply elaborated saying, "well, they tell me what they want, sometimes I tell them to check it out at a dealership and let me know specifically what they're looking for, and then I get it. They might say, 'the dealership wants 50 for it,' so I'll get it for them for 45."

There is silence in the car.

Lyndsey is out of follow-up questions.

Later I would learn that we were both thinking back to earler in our drive when he was complaining about people stealing stereos, and how strangely and uncomfortably "just getting cars" squared with his disgust with stereo theifs.

We keep driving, and Fady asks why we've moved to Connecticut. I tell him Lyndsey has family in the area, and that I just started a job. He asks what I'm doing, and I tell him that I'm working for Habitat for Humanity, a nonprofit that builds houses for low-income families.

There is silence in the car.

I realize what I've said isn't really making sense, so I go on, "basically we're this company that helps poor families buy decent homes by fundraising the cost of materials and giving them a home loan that has really low payments. It's designed to help people who otherwise would live in really bad conditions get a good home."
"Well, what do you do for them," asked Fady, a logical question.
"I help fudraise for our building projects. You see, we build these houses, but it's a non-profit organization, so we work to raise money and put it all into our projects. Basically at the end of the year, the staff gets paid, houses get built, and our books have to come out to zero." I thought this was a pretty good quick description.

Pause...

"See, that doesn't really make any sense to me," said Fady, "I just don't understand why anybody would work and make a company where you don't make no profit, and you do that on purpose."

There is silence in the car.

By the way, at this point, we're completely lost.

I've got a vague sense that we should be turning right at some point, and Fady clearly agrees, but every place he tells me to hang a right is one-way in the wrong direction. He does not seem interested in going back to the dealership, and eventually it becomes clear that Lyndsey and I are not the only ones who have no idea where we are.

I think I've basically hit all the highlights at this point, but needless to say, after our encounter with Fady and Omar Sherif, Lyndsey and I learned many things:

1. If you're going to be a maffioso car salesman schweppes is a great signature move. I mean, really, how many maffiosos are obsessed with ginger ale? It's awesome.
2. Chest stubble is really gross
3. When you walk up to a car, look in the window, and there is a gaping hole in the dash, you should probably leave
4. Rain is the place to be in Connecticut.

Anyway, I've got carpel tunnel from typing for so long, and I've got to go spike my hair so Lyndsey and I can go out to Rain this evening in the awesome Honda Civic that I purchased from Omar & Fady.