My Old Blog

Ok…this is a slightly edited version of a story that was an edited version of the original story, but it is still very, very funny:

We ate Thanksgiving dinner at the Marriott. There was a special foreigner section of the buffet with flat tasteless turkey and yummy garlic mashed potatoes along with several unidentified gravies that didn’t taste anything at all like Thanksgiving. I had mostly pasta, prawns, and cheese.

The girl that came with us said she was itching to do a little partying so after dinner we went up to the Marriott lounge and had free drinks (one of the advantages of being on a long term assignment).

There were lots of shots and beers and merriment….and then it was time to go home with a good buzz and a full stomach. Overall, a nice night. The chick (hereafter known as Carolyn to protect the innocent) seemed fine on the way out. I wasn’t that drunk and neither was Sarah (which is also a fake name).

A few minutes into the taxi ride Carolyn reaches over and starts holding my hand. I was like, “Shit, this chick is nuts…but whatever.” Then a minute or so later she puts her head on my shoulder. Then I was thinking, “Ok. She is just drunk. Let her sleep.”

Then she started making these gurgling noises every once in a while, but I was talking to Sarah so I didn’t pay it much attention except to say, “This fucking chick is going to throw up on me….that would be so funny.”

But when it really happened it wasn’t so funny.

Carolyn didn’t just puke in the car…she puked on me. Remember her head was lying on my shoulder so it went all the way down my shirt and pants. I distinctly remember thinking, “Wow. Vomit is very warm….and it smells bad too.” I also remember thinking, “I can’t believe this bitch threw up on me.”

So by this time we are back at the Taj Palace. There is nothing that screams “I’ve got class” like pulling into a 5 star hotel with vomit all over your clothes. The taxi driver wasn’t so happy either.

I figured it was over though….that Carolyn would apologize, I would take a shower and send my dry cleaning bill to her when she sobered up….but no: She was too drunk to get out of the car. And she had kept throwing up after I propped her up, so now she is sitting in a pool of stinky warm vomit in the cab and can’t hold her head up.

Then I started laughing because the hotel staff brings out a wheel chair to carry this chick to her room. They have to pick her up out of the taxi and sit her and her vomit down in the wheelchair to take her upstairs. The lobby of the Taj Palace is all marble with chandelier lighting, fresh flowers, and an army of staff to greet you (or take care of drunk foreigners as the case may be).

So we get upstairs and the staff dumps her out of the wheelchair onto the bed….which is now covered in puke. The staff didn’t know what else to do so we said we would just take care of her ourselves.

I immediately head to her mini-bar and crack open an over-priced beer. There has to be some kind of compensation right?

My first thought was just tuck her in and let her sleep it off…..but then we realized she was on her back and might puke again and choke on her own vomit in the night…..so Sarah suggested we put her in the shower and maybe it would sober her up enough to do something with her. At this point she is like an invalid. She doesn’t even know she is wallowing around on her bed in her own vomit, which is now all in her hair.

It quickly became apparent that a shower required her to stand up, so we ran a bath instead. I had little desire to see Carolyn naked, but it seemed pointless to put her in the bath covered in puke…so we decided to strip her down to her bra and panties.

We took off her shirt. She had no idea what planet she was on. I could’ve shaved her eyebrow and she wouldn’t have known. Then we took off her pants. She had on a nice pair of grey cotton granny panties with a large wet spot in the crotch area: She’d fucking peed in her pants.

I took a swig of beer and laughed my ass off. It just keeps getting better and better. I was still wearing the same clothes….puke and all.

Sarah and I together could not get this girl into the bathtub no matter what we did. She was like a wet towel….totally incontinent, unaware….didn’t respond to anything we said.

After we laughed for good long while we decided to put her back on the bed face down and hopefully she wouldn’t roll over. We went back an hour later to check on her, getting security to let us in. As expected, she hadn’t moved. Just lying in her own vomit face down. The look on the security guys’ faces was priceless.

I called her the next day to ask how she was. She said she’d thrown up all morning and still didn’t feel well. She didn’t even remember throwing up on me…..said she was really confused when she woke up in her bra and panties in a pool of vomit with a bunch of open beers and a wheelchair in her room.

“I bet,” I said.

Oh yeah….we did happen to snap a picture:

Notice the puke on my pants and the wheelchair in the background.

I haven’t been around to write anything. I saw some really cool stuff on my trip through Rajisthan and had an interesting time to say the least. I will post some pics over the next few days and figure out something to say about it all.

Work is very slow this week because it is Thanksgiving in the US and all my coachees are in training. I am writing this and waiting on a cab and trying to find some music to buy on iTunes. My trip is drawing to a close more or less…surely I will talk more about that later.

No matter how old you get it seems we are still capable of acting like a bunch of drunk teenagers even when there are good intentions and a realization that it is happening. I admit I do not always understand.

KOLKATA, India – A woman receiving treatment for diabetes at a state-run hospital in eastern India lost one of her eyes after ants nibbled away at it, officials said on Tuesday.

These are two of my favorite stories about India. India is a strange and beautiful place that contains everything we have to offer, the best and the worst, the highest and the lowest….just not the fastest or most logical. India makes me question whether rationality is just a point of view.

Cows in S. Delhi:

A few months back the government decided there were too many cows in the streets of South Delhi. So the government masterminds came up with a very sound, very Indian policy: Offer a $50 reward for every cow rounded-up in S. Delhi.

Well, 50 bucks is a shitload of money in India where every street is lined with families living in tents….if they even have a tent. Sensing an opportunity to make a small fortune, Indians simply rounded-up cows from N. Delhi, W. Delhi, E. Delhi, the outskirts, and the villages…and brought them all to S. Delhi looking for their $50.

The government realized this and refused to pay unless you could prove that your cow is actually from S. Delhi. Since there is no way to prove it, the people just turned around and went home empty handed….leaving the cows in S. Delhi.

That is about as India as it gets: Create a policy to remove cows and you get a policy that brings in more cows.

Guest of the Week:

At the hotel I have learned there is “Guest of the Week” program. When you are Guest of the Week you have your picture posted in several employee locations, and all staff know who you are. For the entire week the door is opened for you with double the effort and diligence. Special attention is paid to your comings and goings. Your requests are ignored and side stepped with twice the regret as usual.

The only problem is that you, as the Guest of the Week, are completely ignorant of your status. Apparently I have been guest of the week twice and I am told it is a great honor. I wonder if they posted a new picture of me behind the bell desk or if it is the same one from when I checked in?

What kind of guest recognition program does not tell the guest they are being recognized? What good is a guest benefit that has no recognizable benefit for the guest???

Its like being Employee of the Month and not knowing it, not getting anything extra. Its just the same as not being Employee of the Month.

I admit I do not understand why these things happen with such frequency here. I think when I come to understand the mind of India, I will have lost my own.