llegal, But It’s Okay
The adventures of a Brazilian alien in New York City
A Comedy by
Emilio Boechat
Book Cover
Leandro Machado
Copyright 2015 Emilio Boechat
2nd Edition
WGA WEST REGISTRY
Registration Number: 1791759
License Notes
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Thanks to Daniela Stirbulov, Marco Aurélio Campos, Diego Montez, Guilherme Yazbek, Juliana Bógus Saad, Mariana Elisabetisky, Manoel Candeias, Pedro Passari, Kristin Skye Hoffmann, Nick Chris, Meghan VanArsdalen, Tristan Sample and Andreas Damm.
Special thanks to Aldo Camolez, Heber Rebua, Marilia Toledo, Velson D’Souza, William Rabkin, Laerte Mello and The Brazilian Endowment for the Arts NYC.
Table Of Contents
Introduction
Scene One
Scene Two
Scene Three
Scene Four
Scene Five
About “It’s illegal, but it’s Okay”
Characters and Set
About Emilio Boechat
Introduction
In 2014 I traveled to New York City for the first time in my life. At that time I was forty-seven years old. Why did I wait so long to visit the Big Apple? Beats me! Most of my friends in Brazil had already been there several times and all of them had told me that if I went there I would love it. Therefore, when I finally got there, I had high expectations about the city. And, for busy fifteen days, I lived the best and the “worst” of New York. It was an astonishing, unbelievable and unforgettable experience.
Some things blew my mind in a negative and in a positive way. First of all, how Americans could cope with so many people who didn’t speak English. Before going to New York, I thought my English wasn’t good enough. Now, I think my English is pretty good. My wife, who lived in the U.S. for one year and had been there a lot of times before, didn’t understand the Indians who worked in baggage stores. I myself didn’t get the Chinese who worked in restaurants. But fortunately, I could understand what was said by the Indians, whereas my wife was able to understand what the Chinese people said in English.
Another thing that impressed me a lot when I got there was how the people who lived in New York could be so rude sometimes even when they were trying to be polite. They were always in a hurry and many times I heard them screaming “Excuse me” when they were actually trying to say: “Get out of my way, moron”. But it took me only a few days to understand how stressful it could be live and work in a city full of tourists from many parts of the world. Such people don’t seem to speak English well or care about the city and nor do they have the same manners as the locals. They are just interested in shopping and having fun. At the end of my trip, I thought New Yorkers addressed those issues very well.
As a Brazilian guy - who lives in a country where we are used to facing loads of crimes and criminals every day - I thought I’d never be fooled in NYC. The general belief in Brazil is “Americans are naïve, Brazilians are smart asses”. So after my wife and I wasted two hours of our trip waiting in line and trying unsuccessfully to acquire a new released I-Phone 6 at an Apple Store, I talked her into buying one in a small store at Times Square. The price was good, there was no line and the salesclerks there looked nicer than those at the Apple Store. When we returned to Brazil, my wife noticed that she had been charged twice! It was a scheme that had already trapped more than seventy stupid Brazilians like us, even though other victims had filed a complaint against it on the internet. As a good Brazilian, I tried to take a shortcut to fool Apple, but in the end the only one fooled was me. I should have suspected the salespeople of swindling when they told me their nationalities: one Egyptian, one Haitian and one Puerto Rican. Okay, I’m being discriminatory now. But as they sing in Avenue Q: “Everyone is a little bit racist sometimes”.
As playwrights spending their vacation in Manhattan, my wife and I went to Times Square almost every day to buy tickets for Broadway plays. Once, I noticed a mouse running on the sidewalk near us and when I showed it to her, she panicked. Then I said: “What’s the big deal?". It was just a mouse and we had already seen rats many times in São Paulo, a dirtier place where many people throw garbage out anywhere!”
Some days later, we were eating cereals in our rented apartment at night, in Upper East Side, a fancy neighborhood, when we were visited by a renowned guest: a mouse that jumped out of the oven. What a pleasant night! We closed all the doors in order to trap our uninvited guest in the living room and tried to sleep. But after the mouse had passed through the chink under the bedroom door, we decided to pack our things and spend the rest of the night in a hotel. At least, Airbnb agreed to reimburse our expenses.
On the other hand, many incredible things that could only happen in the Big Apple surprised me at each moment as I walked through the city even when I was completely lost: hidden restaurants, enchanting bookshops, cool bars, fairs of all kinds, unusual nice spots and many other things in addition to exhibitions, shows, plays and musicals that I loved.
At the end of the trip I had already fallen in love with New York. When I came back to São Paulo, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I started comparing things in Brazil with things there, as well as the people who lived in São Paulo with the New Yorkers and so on all the time. It was such a strong feeling that I realized I had to write about that experience. At that time I was very disappointed about my own country and I didn’t understand how Brazilian people could be so submissive, lenient with corruption, disrespectful of the law and selfish. Unlike the opinion that foreigners have about us, most Brazilians thinking about their own business and rarely work for the common good. Maybe because our government is inefficient and corrupted we don’t feel responsible about Brazil’s issues.
Then, I was hit by this idea: to write about a foreigner living illegally in New York, a Brazilian young man full of flaws, uneducated, uncultured, who didn’t know his own country (as many other Brazilians don’t) and didn’t speak English either. An alien who regarded himself as very clever and capable of succeeding in America. Yeah, a very naïve guy at first sight but very dangerous deep down inside.
As I had written plays only in Portuguese until that time, I told my English teacher Heber Rebuá about the idea of writing a play, but it would only work if I did it in English. At least, it would have to be a play about foreigners who didn’t speak English very well. He helped me just as many other friends, who had the patience to read my drafts and expressed their opinions, including an American audience who listened to my play at a table read at the Brazilian Endowments for the Arts, New York City, organized by Velson D’Souza, a Brazilian actor and friend who lives in the city. I want to thank both actors and audience for that. Without their feedback this version of my play would have been feasible. And now, here it is! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Good reading!
SCENE ONE
A small deli like any other in New York City. Nothing special to say about it. OMAN (about forty years old) is onstage, at the cash register. He is Iranian, but he is often mistaken as any other person from the Middle East, which makes him very angry. FAGNER, a Brazilian young boy (about twenty five years old) enters the stage and walks toward Oman.
 
; FAGNER — (smiling) Hi!
OMAN — (smiling back, strong Iranian accent). Hi.
(Silence.)
OMAN (CONT'D) — What can I do for you?
(A pause. FAGNER smiles again. A BIGGER smile now.)
FAGNER — (strong Brazilian accent). I don't speak English.
OMAN — Oh, yeah? Me neither. (bursts out laughing) Who speaks English in this fucking city?!
(FAGNER keeps a ridiculous smile on his face. OMAN stops laughing.)
OMAN (CONT'D) — Oh... You REALLY don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?
(FAGNER doesn't react, just gives OMAN a bigger smile.)
OMAN (CONT'D) — (smile) You douchebag... Jerk... Piece of shit... Asshole... Cocksucker... Mother fucker. (now, really fast) You douchebag, jerk, piece of shit, asshole, cocksucker, mother fucker.
(FAGNER still smiles.)
OMAN (CONT'D) — I like you. (pause) Sorry, I have to work.
(OMAN returns his attention to the money he had been counting before FAGNER came in.)
FAGNER — I am from Brazil!
OMAN — (excited) Brazil? I know Brazil!
FAGNER — (more excited) YES! BRAZIL!
(OMAN pretends to dance samba.)
OMAN — Samba! Carnaval! AIDS!
(OMAN leans over the counter and whispers to FAGNER.)
OMAN (CONT'D) — Once a friend of mine went to Brazil and got gonorrhea. I know... It's very sad.
(FAGNER just smiles.)
OMAN (CONT'D) — I forgot... You do not understand a word... Queer