I leave hippie town for the Himalayas. At the bus stop, a man begins the normal questioning.
“From which country are you?”
“USA”
“Which place?”
“Chicago.”
“Oh. Lots of blacks there.”
“Yes, there are lots of blacks, Indians, whites, Asians…”
“Black people love cock.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, In Mumbai, it’s only the blacks with cock. Lot’s of cock.”
“Well, that is the stereotype, I guess.”
“Yes, I know all about cock. Used to be in that business.”
“Oh. Are you maybe talking about caulk? Like for construction?”
“You know, caulk?”
“Yeah. It‘s white, right?”
“I got out of that business fast.”
“You were in construction?”
“600 ruppees a gram. How much is it in US?”
“Oh! Are you talking about coke? Like, cocaine?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
THOUGHTS: I love India.
{ 1 comment }
I don't know what part is my farovite – their heinous logo or the fact that these aliens would blend right in in Japan. Gentlement, I politely ask you what it is you are smoking, and whether you have any to spare.