India Uncut
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Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Waiter, there's a grenade in my soup
Well, it could happen.
On that note a shameful memory comes to mind. This is in the few months I worked in Delhi in 1995. I go to Nirula's, order a hot chocolate fudge, find a strand of hair in it, point it out, and am offered a replacement. (Nothing shameful so far.)
I go there again a week later, order a hot chocolate fudge, finish 80% of it, and then realise that I want more, more, much more. I'm in my first job, budgets are low. But nosehair is abundant. So I pull out a strand, put it in my fudge, and call the waiter.
I get a free fudge, but I don't enjoy it so much.
And my nose hurts.
On that note a shameful memory comes to mind. This is in the few months I worked in Delhi in 1995. I go to Nirula's, order a hot chocolate fudge, find a strand of hair in it, point it out, and am offered a replacement. (Nothing shameful so far.)
I go there again a week later, order a hot chocolate fudge, finish 80% of it, and then realise that I want more, more, much more. I'm in my first job, budgets are low. But nosehair is abundant. So I pull out a strand, put it in my fudge, and call the waiter.
I get a free fudge, but I don't enjoy it so much.
And my nose hurts.
