Hmmm...Marian and I were loading our groceries at Gross Out when a man on a bicycle cruised by. He stared for a second and then shouted in a sarcastic voice: "Ah, yes, Islam, forcing nine-year-old girls to marry forty-year-old men on penalty of death for mumble mumble years!"
I looked up from loading, and stared at him. He was thirty-ish with short brown hair and a scruffy beard. I looked around, puzzled. No obviously Muslim folks anywhere in the lot. I turned my puzzled (Quizzical, Bemused?) expression in his direction.
I gotta admit, my puzzled stare is frequently interpreted as threatening by other people. Anyway, he took one good look at me and pedaled away as fast as his little tootsies would go.
I was wearing a hat that looks a bit like that hat customarily worn by the former President of Afghanistan, so maybe he took me for a refugee or immigrant.
But...Marian was there, and she didn't even have a hat on, much less a headscarf or anything more modest. So that hat, all by itself, apparently convinced Mr. Ignoramus that I was a muslim.