Lunching at a favorite Chinese food restaurant with a friend:

Me: This water tastes like sperm.

Her: Whaat?

Me: Yep.

Her: Are you serious?

Me: It’s not strong. I think it’s the detergent or something. Taste it.

Her: No. Way. Don’t drink that.

Me: There’s no detritus floating around or anything.

Her: Sick.

A few months later we travel to Bali together. We decide to lunch at a cafe down the street from our hotel.

Me: (Sips water, reflects.)

Her: (Sips water.)

Me: This is what I was talking about.

Her: What?

Me: Do you taste it?

Her: The sperm, you mean?

Me: Yep.

Her: Yep.

Me: It’s got to be some weird cheap-o brand of dish detergent.

Her: Let’s hope so.

2:21 p.m.


I bought a used version of The Best American Travel Writing 2000. While I was reading it this morning, someone’s old airplane-ticket stub fell out.

10:25 a.m.