Taj Mahal

I like it when Sonja bounces through the front door on a Friday night like she used to enter the Sliverville teen club back when the Bee Gees were King Shit. I had already had a few beer and was feeling a little like I used to on a Friday night when beer cost less than $5 a dozen. I had some homemade beans simmering on the stove but Sonja had a better idea.

"Let's go for Indian! Yummy!"

We both love Indian food but try not to eat too much of it. Eating too much Indian makes you smell something evil. And enduring the Indian ring of fire about once a month is my asshole's limit.

We tied up the Hammer outside underneath the Christmas lights, gave her a big cookie and went in. As we opened the grand Douglas fir door the smell of the cooking made us wonder why it had been so long since our last visit. We ordered a bunch of small vegetarian dishes and I ordered a beer I had never had before, a Taj Mahal lager made in India.

The beer was bloody awful but I drank four of them any how. It tasted like it was brewed down in the sewers of Calcutta. At least it was better than American beer.

The food was wonderful and the owner stopped by to chat. She remembers we were two of her first customers. She wishes we would not tie up our dog outside. Dogs make most of her Indian customers afraid for some reason.

"How is the Hammer? Is she outside? She is friendly? She does not look like a friendly dog you know."

I like a dog that is, but does not appear, friendly.

There was a big table of male Indian motherfuckers getting pissed on one side of the place. They were telling jokes but they were not very good jokes. The Indian sense of humour could use a George Carlin or two. A smaller table of white girls were discretely getting loaded near us. We were among the couples in love touching hands in the flickering candle light.

Until last night I was sure there was no Indian music worth listening to. Indian music has always sounded like a cowboy band whose Jack Daniels had been laced with dangerous amounts of LSD. They were playing something modern sounding but I did not ask what it was. It was not like I was going to rush out and buy a cd or anything. I have listened to enough Indian music in the parking lot at work to last me several lifetimes.