Inspiration

Traffic jam with zero movement. Late for where I need to be. South Asian music blaring in my ears. Frustrated, with a headache, and not in the mood for conversation. My Pakistani taxi driver is, though.

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Poor people hot, rich people cold.

… yes, I suppose that’s true.

But in cold you can cover yourself with anything. In hot no. You need air conditioning. Poor people don’t have air conditioning.

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I like one English song. “Don’t be shy”. You know?

Hmm. I think I know one song with that name. What else do you like?

I like Celine Dion. Titanic song. You like?

No… don’t like Celine Dion.

Why? She win many awards.

Its cheesy.

What is mean cheesy?

…

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I like another song: ‘Piss on me’. What is mean “Piss on me”?

… (ten seconds pass) I don’t know.

I think maybe I mispronounce.

I think so.

Because its rude.

Yes it is.

I try to play for you English song – nice song.

(Titanic song starts again, this time instrumental).

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I want to go to Europe.

Yes?

But it’s hard. Especially from Pakistan. Pakistani people involved in crime everywhere in the world. People from Pakistan go to Europe, they invent special bullet to make them unconscious and put them on plane to send back.

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Loud, exaggeratedly sensual porn star voice goes: “Excuse me darling… I have a message for you. Excuse me darling… I have a message for you.”

As I’m trying to figure out what on earth is going on, he answers his phone (in Urdu).

Not that I know what a porn star voice would sound like.

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At least he got me writing again.