I am writing this post from the lounge in the Frankfurt airport, where I am partway between home (Dulles) and my final destination (Mumbai, or for those of you still stuck in 1990, Bombay). Dulles to Frankfurt to Mumbai: a triple-play for the ever flattening world.
I bought Indian Rupees. The exchange rate, after commissions, fees, and blood-letting, worked out to 30rs per $US. For those of you keeping score at home, that's a 33% price premium (the US dollar equals about 45 rs). Didn't some guy from Nazareth have something to say about the money-changers? But no, these must be different people.
I remarked at a party once that I preferred obvious bigots to the subtle, insidious kind. I stand by that statement, particularly after meeting a fellow from Canada in line to get my Lufthansa boarding pass. He was standing there with a cart of luggage and a neon sign that read, "I hate the swarthy." It would light up when he talked. He was truly entertaining, and went on at length about the Italians. There was a family of four in front of us bearing Italian passports. But his sign blinked on and off (mostly on), and I rather enjoyed watching him be a complete ass.
I am thankful for business class. He could not follow me past the door.
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There's nothing quite like bigotry that's been stewed to perfection!
9:19 AM
There is something about that statement that I would like to put my finger on, but the other voices are far too loud.
1:49 PM