Somewhere away from Lahore
When travelling one gets the chance to meet and interact with people of different backgrounds and natures. You have the ones who leave you with fond memories, interesting discussions, others leave behind a sparkle in their eyes as they ask you the time in passing. And then there are the ones who happen to enjoy the little things in life, like abusing the recliner in their seat, or talking out loud on their phone, or rocking their chair vigarously as they try to clean the the oil off their hands after the complementary packet of crisps they’ve had by rubbing them together.
If the chaffing sound wasn’t enough to extricate their repellant natures their tendency to pivot their arms in the air only to let them rest on the top of their chairs, in a criss-crossy fashion as if they were modelling for a swim suit catalog; showing off their boney elbows and creepy hairy hands. in this image of course the hands had to house nails that needed the jaws of life to be cut after the freedom they had been given.
The irony in this image is the fact that the person—and I could be dead wrong about this—was dressed—and again I can only infer—with a certain pride in himself to be a religious man. Cleanliness is a virtue, too bad God can over look a few ghastly nails that need a good clipping.
But I shouldn’t be noticing such things, it isn’t the gentleman way after all travel is about interaction. Although I do wish there were some set bounds now and then. For instance I wish the man next me would refrain from sharing every detail of the movie he’s watching with his wife on the phone. Again, I assume, he could also be talking to his pet goat.
I’ll play along with the movie for now and pause for a musical interlude