Not sure quite how the evening unfolded. It began innocently enough, sitting at an Irish pub drinking coffee (perhaps it was of the Irish variety...), perusing an Indian travel book and ending with a circumnavigation of the pub (no Tibetan prayer beads in hand) and somehow winding up in my present room... 3:42am. Caught between the soporific qualities of alcohol and a java-induced high. I do not welcome tomorrow.
Rewind... hours ago... 8pm-esque. Reading India travel book, a 2-week destination for a friend's wedding in March. Quite thrilled by this upcoming venture. Consuming the rare cup of joe (jet lag...). South African couple across the way taking an ever-growing interest in me, apparently confusing my India travel book for the Bible. Given the setting, the book's prodigious size and relatively fine print, the somber look upon my face - their curiosity understandable. A bible-toting gal at a bar isn't an everyday experience, I don't think. Granted INDIA capped, vibrantly-colored ubiquitously graced the cover of the book... but they'd already been well-acquainted with Jack Daniels long before I entered their line of vision. Blah, blah, blah... in short time, numbers exchanged, names written phonetically on hopefully an irrelevant ticket stub (accents really trip a person up)... one more shot of whiskey and we would've had the final chapter of my memoir composed. But alas final call came and went; the 'tap ran dry,' and the wife's languid tongue was beyond my scope of practice (the hubbie requested that I intervene with my esteemed clinical skills. A futile attempt, indeed, but an attempt made on the behalf of my profession, nonetheless. I refrained from John Hancock-ing my credentials when closing the tab.)
Twiddle-dee, twiddle-dum, I don't care for anymore rum...
(insert disclaimer here.)
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