Phew!

I've concluded I need recuperation after a day of this sort, where every one of your strongly held beliefs is proven the other way....Murphy presides over the happenings of each day of mine...Hail you...but let me be!
1. 'Twinkies' are kids I discover after being subject to 150 of them, with their parents in a single room, all screaming at the same time and relentlessly clad in sarongs set for a fashion show that was about to begin and never really did. Worse, I was there looking for something to place on my much esteemed page 3 for the next day.
2. After a series of American interns I've been subject to, I've been able to establish a rough pattern in the average questions per minute with them going as high as 10 for the American non-jews. After the aforementioned encounter with the twinkies I was subject to oversee one such at a film screening cum exhibition cum socialite-we-are-all-arty-farty-get-together where so many linked into one was a cause of much concern and many more questions.
3. All seemed within limits of handling until an outbreak which was to reveal the lack of anything page 3 worthy for the next day. Now Sunday in a sleepy Tam-brahm driven city is not particularly the perfect day to catch the skimpily clad in the photographable spots. Without much ado the emptiness of the watering holes was established and other options were witnessed being explored. Three hours of solving dire P3 crisis finally ended in the arty-farty posing p3. The next task in hand of course was to explain to the wannabe- journo- art critic- suddenly enlightened American that the to-be 500 word art piece was going to make it no more than a 150 word 'party piece'. And this I miserably failed at resorting to offering to do the smaller piece myself and letting him divulge as much info he wanted to through his first-hand journalistic attempt.
4. After the p3 for the next day was tackled, we headed out for coffee, in desperate need of it to calm my achin nerves I paid little attention to the road ahead, ending up crossroads where I was lost on my way out. The firang graciously offered to guide me back by directing me towards a cow he had seen on his way in. Screaming at that point and location did not seem advisable.
5. Coffee was a story in itself when the American, met the very American-like by far the two people who get onto my nerves the most in this city over conversations bordering around everything and leading to absolutely nothing.
6. There was little left to be done except down my coffee as soon as I could and vanish from this otherwise attempt to relax.
7. Leaving the American under the care of a friend, I said, "Please take care of him, and make sure he gets nowhere but home". To which he retorted, "In what way". Every bit of sanity and patience seemed to have escaped my nerves and I darted out of the door.