Never thought it would be so interesting just standing there at one spot on Main Street watching the people pass by. Which is what I ended up doing this morning waiting for bludy Q to turn up. Lots of pretty wimmen, and wimmen are generally more interesting passers-by than men, their conversations especially. What happens is you end up catching little snippets of things they say which at times can be quite funny. 'I don't think we should go in here ... they sell all shit yaar,' says one of the girls in a group of three. They go in anyway.

Only thing missing was my camera. But I wonder how people would react to some fellow randomly clicking away at them. The wimmen for sure would be freaked out ... probably think I'd do some digital masti and post pictures of them on the internet with their tops missing.

But I tell you it's quite wonderful. And with every photo-op that presented itself popped into my head a little caption to go along. Like the teeny-bopper college couple - Lanky boy walking awkwardly beside her looking slightly nervous about the impression he was making; she on the other hand had this lovely carefree look about her ... loose black skirt, slippers and a black tee with the Google logo printed on the front. 'I'm NOT Feeling Lucky' is the caption that popped up. And I laughed. Because he had just asked her what her favourite ice-cream flavour was. And she goes- guess, guess!" And I'm like- Google it, dude! You can find your mothers first boyfriend on Google if you're persistent enough.

Then there was the fatso chick with the layers and layers of lard doing a little jiggy dance under that huge sack of a T-shirt she was wearing. And for her the caption: VLCC ... Very Large Crude Carrier! Mean, I know.

And what's with these chicks getting the tattoos? Saw so many of then, on the shoulder mostly. And they walk around flashing them like they're making a statement or something. Bullshit! You wanna make a statement get your tongue pierced, like this girl Jeannine I know back in Zuerich. First time I went out with her and saw that tongue with the shiny metal stud sticking out right in the middle, I almost jumped. How do you eat with that bludy thing, I asked her. 'Well - for eating it's a pain, but for a lot of other things...'. Ooh she was naughty. And then she goes, 'I got two more of them but I can't show you ... here!' :)

So yeah. I'm gonna do it again. All I need is to find a discrete enough location where I can get the good shots without some dames chappal landing on my face. Wimmen can be quite vicious when they're freaked out you know.

***

This time next week I'll be at Chattrapati Shivaji waiting to take the flight to JFK. Which invariably will be packed full with Gujjus and other assorted desis. Who invariably will render the toilets unusable within one hour or take-off. And one of them will invariably ask the stewardess to confirm that the breakfast is indeed not non-vegetarian. And if she happens to be like the girl on that Austrian Airlines flight I took to Vienna last year will curtly go: Sir, our fruits are not made of beef!

Our Indians are such messy travellers I tell you, such messy travellers. It's like we don't know the difference between one of Lalloo's cattle-carriers (aka the Indian Railways) and a jet airliner. Either that or we don't care. The shit does not fall onto the tracks here Uncle, you gotta flush the toilet!

And we have this horrible habit where if something is free, we must - and there can be now two ways here - we must try it. Have you seen how they will open everything in the food tray, even if they know they're not going to eat it. You have no clue what the hell that is, so leave it alone dude. But no, free hai toh taste toh karenge! And then you see the bugger go bwaaak! Whats he just eaten? Pâté ... or some shit that looks like pâté.

And what do you do when you got a fidgety Joe sitting next to you? Don't tell him to stop. No, never do that. Fight fire with fire - you start fidgeting. He'll get the message soon enough. But if you got a farter, then you're done for. Unless you can beat him at his own game. Now how much fun would that be! Cuz if there's one thing that annoys a farter more than anything it's someone who leaves him blue in the face. Blue in the base actually.

Then there's the nosy aunty. Oh I gotta tell you this - Indian girl at Vienna airport travelling alone to Bombay. You know the type - tall, nice figure, tight blue jeans, American accent, too much make-up, early-thirties Gujju from Joisey with only one problem in life - goddamned relatives doing everything they can to get her hitched. So there she is sitting a few places away from me at the departure lounge reading a novel when this Indian aunty pops out of nowhere. Now I freak out ... Stay the hell away from me bitch! And Praise Jesus, she goes and plonks herself next to Gujju chick. Your ass is grass babe, is what I wanted to say to her. And didn't she know it. It was so hilarious I cannot tell you, the look on her face, because obviously she's been through this before. Hello, I am Mrs. Desai from Chembur. Are you travelling alone? No, No ... say NO!!!, I'm screaming at her in my head. My boyfriend's just gone to the toilet!

But you know what the stupid girl does? She goes and says yes. And that's all Mrs. Desai needs.

To cut a long story short, every aspect of the girls life is queried - her family, her career, her single status (yes that most of all), even her love life. Aunty actually has the audacity to ask if she is seeing someone. Finally we board the aircraft and Gujju girl is in the seat in front of me. Relieved, I can tell. Then the most unbelievable thing happens. Mrs. Desai pops up again from behind somewhere and goes, 'Hellooo, I asked the air-hostess to change my seat so I can sit next to you!' Hahahaha, you should have seen the look on that girls face ... Priceless!

She suffered ... all the way to Bombay. Moral here again: Never say yes when you want to say no.

Goan boy next to me (he was a pilot with Air Deccan btw ... Bandra bugger men!) was complaining to the stewardess that the in-flight entertainment wasn't working too good. You won't be needing that mate, I said to him. We got all the in-flight entertainment we need right here in the seat in front of us. He understood later what I was talking about.

As for me I have the perfect fuck-off line. I was in the train from Luzern to Zuerich when this desi bugger sitting across the aisle, after some of that typical looking me up and down thing we Indians are renowned for, decides to come over and get pally.

... Are you from India?

Karachi.

Not a word from him after that.

***

A long post this has turned out to be. Thank you everyone for not giving me that Brillante Weblog shit that's being passed around. I can think of nothing more ridiculous.

Nice weekend and all. Scorpions. Always Somewhere.