Pimps Up… Blogs Down

Original Post Date: November 13, 2006

The Gateway Of India

I tell people all the time if there is anything that you have to do before you die is to see the world. I think to see the world gives you a different perspective on your own life, especially if you travel to a third world country. I had the opportunity to travel to Mumbai, India for work a couple of years ago before I started doing comedy and that changed my whole outlook on life.

I knew this trip was going to have its issues from the start. Number One, 3 of the 4 co-workers I was traveling with were white and we were going to an all brown country. I’m not sure if you know, but White people for some reason aren’t the most popular race on earth. Number Two, they thought it would be funny to wait until we got on the flight to tell me that June is the beginning of Monsoon season in India. Furthermore proving why White people are not the most popular race on earth.

So after a 16-hour plan ride, I almost get arrested for taking pictures in the airport to which I replied with the words of the great philosopher Dave Chapelle, “I didn’t know you couldn’t do that.” I then pull the one Indian kat that came with us ,” I understand you don’t live her but I need you to help me get up to speed on rules or laws that may cause me not to be able to get back on that plane.”

We eventually reach our hotel in Juhu Beach, which was pretty tight. Everyone is pretty excited to be in India so we decide that we want to check out a club because I gotta see how a culture so different from ours parties. Being the only one in the group with street sense, I say I only want to go to a club in a major part of town. The Indian guy assures me that he has it all under control but little do I know, he is from south India and we are in North India so he doesn’t speak any Hindi what so ever :-/. We get in this cab (I call it a mini cab because it is the size of a 85 ford escort) and the Indian dude tells the driver to take us to a club which is followed by a little dance that leads me to believe he thinks the cab driver didn’t understand him. We drive for about 20 minutes and as we are driving the buildings are starting to get smaller and smaller and the street lights become fewer and fewer which in America to me means we were headed to the hood. So I begin to do my normal routine when I think someone is taking me somewhere I didn’t plan on going, I start looking for anything that can be used as a weapon. For those of you who don’t know, when worst comes to worst you put your keys between your figures and it can be used as a scratch-er. SHUT UP. If that’s all you got, then that’s all you got. After getting my scratch-er ready, I realize we are now head down this dirt road and about midway down we come to a stop. As I figured, these fools jump out the car and start screaming like we at Bill’s Bar & Grill or something. So I wait to see if an Indian gang (I don’t know) comes out to jump them. They proceed to walk in the ‘supposed’ club which doesn’t have any line and no music coming out of it. I’m like is it just me? Really? Does no one else see anything wrong with this? I guess if I’m going to die, I’m going to go down scratching.

I follow them inside and low and behold we are in an Indian strip club. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t do the strip club thang. I just never understood the concept of going some where, paying a girl to rub all up against you to get your thang thang hard and then going home. I just feel like I could do that at the regular club for free. Anyway, we sit down. I look up and there are at least 15 girls on this dance floor that has a rectangle drawn on it and they are dancing basically with all their clothes on to one of those Jay-z/Timbaland beats (don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about). So one of the white guys in our group starts to pull out his wallet and the Indian guy goes, ‘no I got it’. He then pulls out a $20 and asked the waiter for change. The waiter brings back this huge stack of money. So the math goes like this 50 rupees equals a dollar. He gave him a $20 bill which equals $1000 rupees (50*20=1000). The crazy part is that, just like in America, guys only tip the dancers with one bill at a time so that means they tip them with one rupee. These women were shaking money makers for TWO AMERICAN cents at a time. I guess I shouldn’t call them money makers at that rate. Once this math equation is done in my head, I couldn’t close my mouth. My counterparts acted like it was no thing. I know feel like I’m at a hip hop concert as they start to throw their rupees in the air and waving like they just don’t care. This activity causes three girls emerge from the triangle shaped dance floor and put out their hands. The guys give them a rupee or two and which causes the girls to move closer. This goes on for about 5 minutes until the girls are pretty close to the guys. At this point, one girl raises her dress from the ground to about her mid calf then lowers it and puts her hand back out. Yes, this is the Indian strip club folks. Can you imagine living in India and you spending your hard earned rupees for the most expensive game of Hokey- Pokey you have ever seen? You put your right calf in, you put your right calf out, you put your right calf in and you shake it all about. You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around…That’s what India is all about…and is why I don’t go to street club here their or anywhere.

To Be Continued….

This entry was posted on Monday, October 5th, 2009 at 9:05 pm and is filed under Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.