DISCLAIMER: A late-night, slightly garbled, recollection follows.
The man of indeterminate accent worked beside me in the club.
When asked, I had just told him I was part-Indian.
“India is a kind of, I don’t know how to say, mysticism. But it is not just a mysticism. It is a kind of spirituality. I want to go there. I want to see the, you know, streets and the monkeys.’
ME: Yeah, there are lots of monkeys there. Sometimes they’re even dangerous.
MAN: I want to fight the monkeys.
ME: What?
MAN: I want to, you know, fight them.
ME: Oh. Um, like I said, some of them are kind of dangerous.
MAN: Yeah, I would carry, you know, a tube. [pretends to swing a big stick] You know, a, I don’t know the word [makes walking stick motions]
ME: Like a cane?
MAN: Yeah, like a cane. I just want to fight them.
UNRELATED BONUS PHOTO:
Give you one guess how old my cousin Sara is: