Days 11-14: The Pinnacle and The Bill

(post from Sunday)After stating continuously that I have nothing better to do than type two page posts for both the Lodge and Fiesta, it might strike regular readers as odd that we’ve gone almost a half week without any sort of content, not even an amusing photo of dogs in heat on the side of the freeway, well worry no more friend: (sorry for the poor focus, but it’s hard to keep the camera steady in a situation like this)

Well without further ado, let us get to the timestamps, the quote and the recommendations.

“I hate to say this, but this place is getting to me. I think I'm getting the fear."

Following my last communication where I confessed my utmost affections for all things Will Wheaton I found my week playing out almost exactly the same as that which preceded it, the monotony, the night, the 55 degree hotel room. I’ve tried to replicate my mentality to mirror Andy Dufresne, (minus having to deal with the Sisters) and just get my time done and attempt to “do it like a man.”

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, they were all the same day just altered by the room service and completely random B movie from the 80’s or 90’s, until Friday night at about….(queue the block timestamp please)

2125 UTC // 11.05.07

I progress through my Friday shift thinking mostly about how I’m going to kill the nest 48 hours of R&R at the Meridan and keep myself sane, when I get the heads up that 0200 is the witching hour at the call center, what this entails I’m not exactly sure, and at this point any break in the action is welcomed, even if it means being stranded in a remote Bombay with a couple of hundred rupees in my pocket. Hey, at least it would make for a good post!.

0325 UTC // 12.05.07

The 0200 departure time fell prey to the hindrance of work, but “go-time” was finally amongst us. The journey begins with trepidation, normally risk taking involves heading out to a bar outside of the 935, but tonight I was placing faith in people I had known for the small side of 8 days and confirmed only by the conversation about the finer aspects of Kingfisher.

The mission begins in the back of non-descript Ford Claire heading back north along the same path I’ve now traveled approximately 23 times. We pull up to a boarded up corner stand that resembles a corner “wine shop” during the day, but doubles for a bootlegging shack “after hours.” Order are placed, I wait in blur of nervousness and sleep deprivation, but maintain a consistent optimism.

After a further thirty minutes of driving, half of which include back roads without lights or pavement, we arrive at the set destination, somewhere along the northwest coast of Bombay far away from corner cricket matches and signs of the impending Z-apocalypse.

0406 UTC // 12.05.07

The mood initially was a tad bit uncomfortable as we setup two car trunks back to back and began to poor mixed drinks for approximately a dozen people. Luckily I had an American brother with me to commiserate the oddity of this late night Indian tailgate, but as I soon found out, I had all of my Indian brothers with me too.

The drinks included whiskey (scotch as they know it), rum, vodka and Kingfisher regular and strong (8%). I believe I impressed the bunch (or at least that is my recollection) with my taking of Indian Scotch straight without mixers to open up the Indian tailgate. I followed this with my first taste of Kingfisher Strong and shortly after that I met “Bob”(name changed to protect the guilty).

Bob had been keeping the same pace as me (this data is purely speculative) and quickly I found his inflections of Hindi jokes hilarious. He politely translated for me and my American brother so that I would fully understand that he is the type that would always be welcomed at any tailgate of mine.

The drunken banter remained for the next several hours as we listened to 80’s Metallica followed by 90’s Eagles, followed by Nirvana until the Sun peaked its head over the horizon. I quickly realized that tailgaters across the world only differ in language and mode of transportation, but the enjoyment is universal. As the sun continued to rise and the bottles continued to stack up I realized that I had reached the pinnacle of my journey on the other side of the world from my home. The sense of familiarity and collective enjoyment made it a little bit easier to be so isolated from the things I’ve been missing so dearly.

0812 UTC // 12.05.07

The night/morning ended with a game of football played on the beach by a group of drunken brothers using beach trash for goal posts and a flat volleyball as the necessary equipment. The game ended 0-0 after a solid 10 minutes and all of us realizing it was too hot and we were too gone to complete the match.

This is the point were I tell you about certain memories will last with you forever, and that’s true.

1617 UTC // 12.05.07


“Our room service tabs had been running somewhere between $29 and $36 per hour, for two consecutive weeks. Incredible. How could it happen”

I finally pulled the eyes open around the timestamp and realized that I have nothing to do for a long time and my only goal for today is to stay up until around 0200 to prevent the Monday crash during work. What to do when you have time and no Premiership on Saturday?...Well you pop on disc one of Firefly (lent to me from yet another American brother) on the laptop and put the Real Madrid Athletico Bilbao on mute.

Prior to my slack marathon though, I woke up to a letter under my door requesting a call to the front desk. Immediately I thought the worst. The gig is up. I wonder how long I can exist on the streets of Bombay. How does Western Union work? Fortunately this was just a check up on my bill (and for financial purposes the number will not be disclosed), where I broke down my per hour rupee count at the hotel and laughed. Yes, I’m still in the hotel, for now.

As I mentioned in my comments on MCP’s overly long previews post, this series is better the second time around and the guy playing the captain has actually grown on me, much like overly long travel diaries. Anyway, I by the time I finish this post I’m probably going to be done with the series, and I have to say, I think I’m finally ready to give the movie a go. I feel like I’ve crossed a line that I may never have a chance to go back from, or maybe it’s just the frickin’ water around here, but “when I’m wrong…I say I’m wrong”, and I may or may not be wrong about this, I’m still not sure.

I’m going to cut this now to save space. Thanks for reading.