My Visit to the Subcontinent

Alternate title: How I spent My National Day of Mourning

So I stopped by the Indian restaurant down the street from the office after work tonight. (It’s fun with prepositional phrases!) I know it was all the IM-ing with Cousin Julie, who’s in India, that sent me there instead of home for dinner.

The old guy who runs the place is always nice and friendly to me and the office lunch crew. He’s even given us nicknames; of course he only uses the nicknames of the people who aren’t there. Like when I go in with Bill, he asks where Tall and Sexy is- that’s Jamie. When Jamie and I go in he asks where the guy with the tiny glasses is-that’s Bill. Apparently when Bill and Jamie go in and I’m not there, it’s “Where’s Red?” I guess it could be a worse nickname to have.

Tonight I went in alone. I have the toughest time understanding the old guy. It’s not the thick Indian accent, it’s that he mumbles. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the guy’s teeth. He wished me a Happy New Year and then either he asked me if I had just come from work or if I thought Bob Dole was a dork.

And on my way out I either agreed to see him soon, or I promised to marry his first born son.

I think I’ll stay away from the Indian food for a while.