NOVEMBER 13, 2012
As I barreled out of the state of Texas on my way to
wherever it is I am going, there was a truck stop on the New Mexico side of the
border advertising Indian food. As I
type this now, a full week after this experience and my time in Vegas (yes,
Vegas. it’s called foreshadowing and you’ll have to wait for the story to play
out) I am still in awe that the world conspired to make this happen. But it did.
Although the only proof I have is this yelp link to the truck stop http://www.yelp.com/biz/taste-of-india-san-jon So I roll into the truck stop at like 11
in the morning, as if anyone really needs to eat Indian food at 11 in the
morning. But I was intrigued enough to
check it out.
After a solid ten minutes of loitering in the spice isle –
because why wouldn’t there be a really amazing section at the truck stop
dedicated to spices? – I went up to the counter to get some samosas from the
glass case that would otherwise have house hot dogs and other crap food at any
other gas station. Ahead of me was a
woman desperately trying to communicate with the woman behind the counter to
try to figure out if the wraps were vegetarian.
Normally I would just bug out of this situation for no other reason than
trying to communicate with an attractive young female is impossible for a
scruffy guy like me. I’m not sure if it
is the hair or the beard or if I just exude some kind of rapey vibe, but I’ve
just learned my lesson – don’t even bother.
For whatever reason I joined in on the comedy of the situation between
the poor vegetarian customer and the woman behind the counter who’s amazing
culinary skills were offset by her poor command of the English language.
I’m a little unclear what happen over the next five
minutes. Somehow the woman in line in
front of me not only acknowledged me, but actually spoke to me and insisted on
buying my Indian blunch and let me walk her out to her car and meet Zax, her
four-legged traveling buddy. Inside of ten minutes I had made a better
connection with Kirsten (she has a name too!) than I had with scores of other
travels met at other venues more social than a truck stop.
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