Thursday, December 29, 2005

It's the Time to Disco!

Where I was in India, alcohol is illegal. Prohibition! However, foreign visitors get a liquor license. You can see where this is going. So not once but TWICE my cousin's husband dragged me across town to Holiday Inn Surat so he could use my passport to buy his illegal alcohol. (And now there are these huge goopy GUJARAT LIQUOR PERMIT stamps all over my passport and I look like some kind of alcoholic.)

'Across town' doesn't sound like that big of a deal, right? Surat is the size of my dopey little hometown of Centralia, IL, where it takes 5 minutes to go across town. However, in Centralia there are only 10,000 people. There are motherfucking FOUR MILLION people in Surat. (And 8 million cows and 6 million goats.) It takes 5 minutes to cross the street. And there are no traffic lights. When you see a break, just say a prayer and make a run for it. That coupled with the fact that we were travelling in the vehicle of automotive perfection, the Tata Bajaj, which is like a cardboard box on wheels.

So he picked up his cases of beer at the Holiday Inn and we stowed them in his little minivan, which my cousin met us there with. Except now the battery was dead, and our rickshaw had already taken off. So we took the beer out of the van and all these guys were pushing the little van all over the parking lot as if this would some how help jump the battery. The engine eventually turned and we put the beer back in but in all the beer transferring a bottle broke and spilled on my clothes.

It wouldn't have been a big deal, but then someone suggested that we stop at a temple on the way home. I'm no paragan of morality but taking the van o' illegal goods to the temple and then rolling in smelling like beer somehow felt wrong to me. Didn't seem to be a problem for anyone else though!

So of all the luck, when we go into the temple, we walk right into the middle of a lecture that's being given by some visiting priest. Everyone is shooting us nasty looks and I hope it's because we were being rude and disruptive at the talk and not because I smell. We eventually are made to sit down and another priest asks us to stay, because the priest wants to meet the visitor from America, etc.

Long story short, we sit through the whole talk, then go to a special meeting with the priest, where he asks how the rest of my family is doing, and then has me write down my address, email, and phone # in a little book. (Was he planning to call me?) The whole time I'm just trying to hide the stain on my dress and ... not smell.

When we finally leave the temple, the van won't start. AGAIN. What fun! So these young priests-in-training are recruited to help us push the van (which is still full of beer) out of the temple grounds to a nearby autoshop. (And by 'help' I mean push it all by themselves because I wanted to dissociate myself as much as possible from all the beer so I snuck off pretending to be in search of Cheetos Spicy Masala Balls.) They ended up pushing it to the mechanic's and we returned home in a Tata Bajaj. I still don't know what happened to all the beer.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow, freshly typed out of the computer. I could have almost heard you click the submit button.

I've been coming back here every day to see if you had written anything new. When I saw the same entry I hit the refresh button out of wishful thinking and lo and behold this new entry popped up. Hurray!

Ok, I do have a life. I really do.

I don't have a blog and I don't have a website so my identity will say Anonymous. I'm just an anonymous fan.

sparkydoom said...

Happy New Year!

christine lee said...

Rupal! you have a blog fanbase. haha... HAPPY NEW YEAR! did you bring me back any indian beer??? just kidding...christine

square peg said...

Ha! I love it! No, they wouldn't even let ME drink any of the stupid beer! Wankers.