I’m in Mumbai, and I’m Doing What I Want
I’m pretty much just eating, drinking, and trying whatever I see other people eating, drinking, or trying. I even danced with my boss, a middle-aged dude. Hey, that’s what everyone else was doing, and when in Mumbai, do as the Mumbaikers do.
I had this theory that if I ate less food I would have a lesser chance of getting a bug that would upset my g-I. I also heard a lot of people tell me to not drink the water. “Don’t let them tell you that they drink it every day and they’re fine. They’ve been drinking it their whole lives and are used to it.” Well, I’m just doing whatever anyone else is doing. If my friends or coworkers are drinking it, I’m drinking it. I went to this work party last night, and everyone just kept telling me to eat this, eat this, so I ate everything, and maybe I’m going to put on weight in India instead of losing it. And even though meat has a greater chance of making someone sick, and an Indian told me to avoid meat during these hot months in Mumbai, my coworkers told me to try the meat dishes, so I did.
My company had a party on a patio on Juhu Beach last night, celebrating closing the fiscal year audit on time. My boss asked me if I was going to dance. I said maybe later. The only ones dancing were all these young dudes. I think they’re the servant boys around work. My coworkers call them pantry boys. And they all the time are looking at each other when they dance, sometimes touching, sometimes on purpose, and always dancing with all their energy and passion, jumping and throwing their arms in the air. There were few girls at this party, just because my office is mainly dudes. The girls did dance eventually, but in a very shy and diminutive manner.
My boss and coworkers insisted I dance. Keep in mind I’m the lone white dude – which is what I’ve always been so far. So I danced. I tried some of their energetic moves, kicking my feet, jumping, and pounding my fists into the air, but I said this just isn’t my style. I said that in America, dudes just try to act relaxed and try to be cool on the dance floor. If you’re jumping around like a wild kid, you look like a drunk. I told my coworker, if dudes were dancing like that in America, I would say there are drunk. He said, “Ah, it would be conclusive proof. But not here.” These kids weren’t even drinking. Anyway, even my boss danced eventually.
And I’m doing what I want. I don’t think I’ll get sick from the food or the water. Please rub this arrogance in my face when I do.
I had this theory that if I ate less food I would have a lesser chance of getting a bug that would upset my g-I. I also heard a lot of people tell me to not drink the water. “Don’t let them tell you that they drink it every day and they’re fine. They’ve been drinking it their whole lives and are used to it.” Well, I’m just doing whatever anyone else is doing. If my friends or coworkers are drinking it, I’m drinking it. I went to this work party last night, and everyone just kept telling me to eat this, eat this, so I ate everything, and maybe I’m going to put on weight in India instead of losing it. And even though meat has a greater chance of making someone sick, and an Indian told me to avoid meat during these hot months in Mumbai, my coworkers told me to try the meat dishes, so I did.
My company had a party on a patio on Juhu Beach last night, celebrating closing the fiscal year audit on time. My boss asked me if I was going to dance. I said maybe later. The only ones dancing were all these young dudes. I think they’re the servant boys around work. My coworkers call them pantry boys. And they all the time are looking at each other when they dance, sometimes touching, sometimes on purpose, and always dancing with all their energy and passion, jumping and throwing their arms in the air. There were few girls at this party, just because my office is mainly dudes. The girls did dance eventually, but in a very shy and diminutive manner.
My boss and coworkers insisted I dance. Keep in mind I’m the lone white dude – which is what I’ve always been so far. So I danced. I tried some of their energetic moves, kicking my feet, jumping, and pounding my fists into the air, but I said this just isn’t my style. I said that in America, dudes just try to act relaxed and try to be cool on the dance floor. If you’re jumping around like a wild kid, you look like a drunk. I told my coworker, if dudes were dancing like that in America, I would say there are drunk. He said, “Ah, it would be conclusive proof. But not here.” These kids weren’t even drinking. Anyway, even my boss danced eventually.
And I’m doing what I want. I don’t think I’ll get sick from the food or the water. Please rub this arrogance in my face when I do.
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