My new favorite song

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About a month

Ago I was at the airport. Who was I with, and who did I have to receive? Well that's none of your damn business buddy. Might as well ask me for my social security number if you're going to ask that. Things got off to a rocky start when I found out that the AC in the wasn't working. It was about 90 degrees that day with not a cloud in sight. After many failed attempts to try and rectify the situation, I gave up and decided to welcome the thick, hot air that came from the open windows. I was prepared with my bottle of water which had turned lukewarm within minutes. Then we ran into traffic. Just great. The hesitation of the stop and go of the cars rivaled that of a fob working up the courage to ask an NRI female (Google that term) for a pen or pencil during a remedial English class, even though he has at least twenty of his own. I passed the time by having a conversation in Punjabi with the I was traveling with. I find that if you speak in a language that is not native to the land in which you live in, it makes the time go by faster. This is because it makes you feel like you're in a different country. Maybe a country that is hours ahead of your own timezone. Try it yourself. You won't be disappointed. After we found parking and entered the airport I could easily see it was crowded. I hate big crowds, but I didn't mind this one very much. This is because of the large amounts of European women and female students from a big university that were exiting the terminals and wandering around. My goodness, they were hot. I almost forgot why I came to the airport in the first place, but know I was damn sure glad I arrived. Most of the women that were waiting for the passengers along with the people coming from the exits were of Turkish decent. I realized this when I found out that one of the flights was from Turkish Airlines. I'm smart like that. Can't get much passed me. The only eyesores I could spot at the moment were three nuns. Sorry Sisters. Please forgive me for I have sinned, but you guys looked out of place. To see the full spectacle of women I made an excuse to venture to another exit where my guests might have been coming out of. I constantly made excuses to go there knowing that they were probably not there at all. I wanted to see more hotties. Don't judge me. There was a slim chance that they might have been there. It's about the same chance Romney has of winning in November. Much to my disappointment, I didn't see many more attractive women. I then went to a McDonald's and got fries. I didn't want to get a full meal because then I would not be able to enjoy the view because I would be sitting down and focused on my food. With fries in a bag I could easily scope out anybody and everybody. And oh yea, I would be too distracted when it came to try and finding the people I was going to receive. That too, of course. Also, I didn't want to eat meat in front of the Desis around me who were already giving me the evil eye. I didn't want to further their hate for me by becoming a meat-eater sala. True fans of this blog will get that reference. While standing and munching on processed potatoes, I saw HER. She was in a low cut black dress. She was about 5'5" and had an amazing figure. She was holding a balloon. I'm guessing she was Turkish, because once again, one of the flights arriving was from Turkish Airlines. Deductive reasoning. I don't remember or care what was written on the balloon because I was too busy staring at her. I'm just saying. Decorations were the least of my concerns at the moment. I tried not to be obvious with my gawking, but I think I was. I turned my head for a few seconds, and when I turned back she was gone ( name the boy band who sang that song and get 5000000 Bali points.) I quickly dismissed her as being a ghost or a figment of my imagination. If I did not then I would have gone on a search for her and ended up God knows where. After some more waiting, I found myself situated next to two Sikh men. How did I know they were Sikh? Because they had turbans and beards. That's why. And because they told me. So yea. The person I was with struck up a conversation with the gentlemen. I followed suit. They were very friendly and said that the governments of India and Pakistan should be free with the border that separated the countries. They used the American-Canadian border as an example and said if that were to happen, the countries would get along much better. Don't think that's a good idea. I would go into why, but that's a 20 page paper. I should know. I actually did a 20 page paper on that topic. I noticed that the more we spoke the more they used the word panchode freely. Please cover the eyes and ears of any children in the room. I took this as a sign that they felt comfortable speaking to us. They exchanged numbers with the person I was with. I'm glad they didn't ask me for mine. I don't want late night texts or calls that start off with bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuah! That would scare the shit out of me. I wouldn't be able to handle it. The people they were waiting for had arrived and they were quickly on their way. Now it had been over 3 hours of waiting. I started to get tired. Remember, I am very lazy. Getting out of bed everyday is a triumph for me, so this was a big mission. I finally took a seat. Now all I could see were confused people from all around the world. I went outside for a cigarette. I felt like I was at an UN meeting and we were on a lunch break. That's how diverse the group I was with. Pretty cool stuff. I wish I had been wearing a tie so I could loosen it and speak to them in broken English (so they would better understand what I was saying. I noticed that if you speak this way to people whose first language isn't English, they tend to understand you better when you have horrible grammar) about a certain resolution wouldn't get passed. Oh well. Maybe next time. Upon returning I saw that it was still crowded, but now with people waiting for other flights. I jokingly thought to myself that maybe I had come on the wrong day or wrong time. OH SHIT! What if I did? That would suck. I then went to the front desk and made an inquiry. I gave the person there the names of the people I was waiting for, and he said he would go and check. Within 5 minutes, my guests had finally arrived. Thank God. Good job Mr. Nice Guy with White Hair. You should be employee of the month. I felt like I won a competition. I expected to get a medal and a bottle of Gatorade. Didn't happen. Oh well. Maybe next time. By the time I came home I was dead tired. Yes, I'm that lazy. I retired to bed but not before I took two Advil and drank heaps of water. I am Baliwala. Forget bars or clubs. Airports are the place to go to pick up females. That is all.

You might

Be my brother or sister by the Book, but you aren't by your nature and actions.

A couple

Of weeks ago your boy Bali needed a fresh new cut. I had been feeling lazy about getting it cut but my hair looked horrible. To give you an idea of how bad it was, let's just say if you put me next to Krusty the Clown you might not be able to tell the difference between us. When I headed into the barbershop I went into the second room. You would know about this room if you're a loyal reader. Guess who I saw there? If you guessed the Bengali woman who had cut my hair the last time I went, then you're correct. Once again, my loyal readers would remember her. She was busy cutting somebody's hair. Thank God. I returned to the first room and was approached by a petite woman who asked if she could cut my hair. Sure. Why not? My hair couldn't look any worse. She was friendly and immediately made conversation. I wasn't surprised. She wanted to make small talk so I would tip her generously. LOL! Like that would ever happen..pshhhh. The first thing she said to me was " What's this? Do you have a mohawk?" I told her that the last time I was there somebody fucked it up. Didn't want to tattle but I'm guessing she knew who I was talking about. I told her what I wanted and starting to cut my hair. Now something happened that confused me. Maybe I was being paranoid but I think my barber was molesting the back and the sides of my head. I understand barbers need to touch your head (no pun intended) in order to give you a haircut, but I feel like she was crossing the line. Then out of nowhere guess who I see? The Bengali Barber. I'm going to refer to her as BB from now on to simplify things. She went to the register and took money from the person she just had given a haircut. Then she sat down in a chair. The seat was about 15 feet away from me and a bit to the right. Then she proceeded to stare at me with a "Oh, I see how it is. Don't want me to cut your hair?" look. I tried to ignore it but after a couple of minutes it really bothered me. Then she got up and stood in front of the register and said "Anybody want haircut?" Somebody approached her. Thank God. I was in the clear, or at least I thought I was. Five minutes later she returns to the register and sits back down in the same chair. Damnit woman. Take your time when cutting somebody's hair. Have you no heart? This isn't a competition. You will not make it to the Guinness Book of World Records. By now I think she knew I noticed her so she proceeded to pull out her phone and stared to text, or pretended to. I think it was a Blackberry. Not sure. My peripheral vision isn't what it used to be. Here's the thing. After about 30 seconds of "texting" she stared at me again. While she was staring at me her fingers continued to push buttons. Homegirl was taking multitasking to another level. During this entire time, including both trips she had made to and from the second room, my barber petted my head more than she cut it. She asked me where I was from, what I did, etc. I answered without hesitation. When I asked her the same questions she gave very brief and vague answers. Her mumbling didn't help the situation. Maybe she just wandered in and wanted to make some quick cash. What really bothered me was that she kept on making suggestions as to what I should do with my hair. I would respond with "I know what I'm getting. I get it all the time." Even then she would insist I do something different. I had never interacted with somebody who cared about my hair so much. She finally gave up and left me alone. This was the most intense haircut I have ever had. I had to deal with enemies from the front and the back. I don't know how I survived it. I am Baliwala. I was physically and visually violated. That is all.

Massive

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