If you are reading this blog you are either:
a) my good friend
b) find this stuff pretty amusing
c) have nothing better to do
OR
d) want to follow the slow disintegration of a man's soul
In a past blog I told you I almost went Joe Pesci on a guy. Funny thing, like 3 nights ago I did go Joe Pesci on a guy. So I take this "auto-rickshaw" home from dinner. They're like a tuk-tuk if you've been to Thailand, or a juiced version of a golfcart, if you haven't. There's no meter, you negotiate the fare. They inevitable make the price higher for foreigners cause we don't know the true fare and have more money than locals. Now you're talking about quibbling over like 25 or 50 cents usually. But the money is not the point.
First of all, it's fun to haggle. Second, it's about the principal of being charged more because you're a foreigner. So I negotiate this guy down from 50 rupees ($1.25) to 30 rupees (75 cents). When we get to the hotel, I only have a 50 rupee note. He takes it and says "thank you" and makes like transaction is done. I shout in no uncertain terms that it was 30 rupees. So he gives me a 10 bill as change and something pops. If you know me, you know I'm not a fighter at all. If I'm the one who's got your back in a fight and your opponent is bigger, then run Forest run. I grab his collar and yank him halfway out of the rickshaw, which has open sides, so it's not some feat like pulling him through a car window. He says OK and gives me the proper change.
Man, Scott. You are on cheap mofo. But if you say it's only 50 cents than you are really making everything about money. Cause it ain't about money. It's about the principles. God, next time, I might really go Pesci on someone. Ever seen casino where he does that dude with the pen? I may have to gouge his eyes out with a 2 rupee coin but that's cool.
One more rickshaw story and I'm outtie like a newborn's belly button. I've got a solid set of rickshaw drivers around my hotel and office who know I'm hip to the true fare (even though an Indian would still go at 50% the price). So today the guy stops for gas on the way. No less than 8 of the station attendants crowd around the thing to gape at the white man inside. I swear that I can't remember a time feeling much more uncomfortable. It was like being an animal in the zoo. I was trapped.
Slowly going nuts...and it's quite pleasant....
Next entry let's talk about furry animals, OK?
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2 comments:
You hardly have soul you pompous bastard. If I'm reading this, it's because I'm hoping that your experiences and education have been enough to help you write something worth reading. Having said that...keep workin on it.
You should get out of there and head to Goa, go somewhere a little more accepting. Doesn't sound like it's worth it unless you're willing to make a very unbalanced effort. What I mean is that you'll have to give a lot more than you feel is acceptable and live with the consequences in order to make the experience worthwhile. Maybe you should . . . Ah, up to you, as the girls of Isann remind us oh too often. Take care buddy.
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