Continued from here.

Thankfully, the prop-job got us to Chennai just fine.

We arrived Thursday late morning-ish and were immediately whisked away to yet ANOTHER vendor’s location. At this point, I was VERY stabby. People who wanted to talk to me didn’t know, but they were taking their lives in their hands

So, y’know when you’ve had just.about.enough. and yet you have to put on your big girl panties and smile and act nice and ladylike and you really just want to take the fifteenth free pen that you’ve received and find the nearest throat to stab it into? Yea. That was about 3 p.m.

Here’s one thing that I”ve never told y’all about me. (I know! I can’t believe it either.) When I’m sitting in a conference room chair (which, srsly. Way.too.fucking.often.) I have to have it raised to the highest height. I’m 5′9″ and if my thighs aren’t parallel to the floor – if my knees are above my ass, I mean – then I can’t pay attention to the meeting at all. And I’m paid fairly well to pay attention. So, yea, it kinda sucks.

The chairs in this conference room? Every time I leaned back – and I mean even a little – the chair I was sitting in lowered. After 15 minutes I was licking my patella. Not happy, was I. Hence, the stabbiness.

Of course, I couldn’t be completely bitchy – especially after the stupidity of the morning. Even before the propeller plane, I almost decapitated the fingers on my right hand and was just grateful that one of the vendor reps was willing to find me some antibiotic ointment and a bandage.

(Hint: Never, EVER, stick your hand into your makeup bag without checking to see if the plastic guard fell off your disposable razor. You will be in pain and possibly bleed profusely.)

Thankfully, these sheets did not get stained from the blood, people.

What else can I tell you about the first night in Chennai? Well. This happened. And I know this place. And this person. And I was with the guy who lives NEXT DOOR to this person. Weird. Really strange to be thousands of miles away and know exactly what is happening in your neighborhood to your friends at the exact same time it’s happening.

I can also tell you that the bar under these ribbons? Which was right under and outside my room’s window? Had a girl that sang REALLY bad ’80s love songs until after midnight. So, yea. Another thing that made me stabby.

And then there was the fact that we got there Thursday and my phone stopped working and the only way Mr. Hot and I could communicate was through G00gleTalk and I never heard his voice for 5 days. And THAT? Made me even more stabby.

—- But yet, I survived. Well, sort of. But that’s another story on another day. —-

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