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» Hotel Splendido

Conference in an Indian City Hotel
Around 10 years ago I was stationed in Hyderabad, India whilst I did interesting (yawn) things with agriculture. I was based at ICRISAT, a research station. At the time my colleagues and I would poke fun at the mis-haps that would frequently happen. Little was I to know that ICRISAT was the pinnacle of efficiency compared to the rest of India.
About ten of us were due to attend a conference in Bangalore. I arrived first and checked in. Next to me was an American lady was was also attending the conference, patiently waiting. Not sure how it happened but the the receptionist just presumed that the lady next to me was my wife. Thus about 20 minutes later as I step out of the shower she walks into my room and screams (somewhat theatrically I've always thought).
But my favourite bit of this tale comes from my boss, his name was Andy Whitman. He arrived later than the rest of us. When he tried to book in (he had made a reservation) he was told there was no vacancies due to the conference. Fifteen minutes of sighing and eye-rolling later.
"We are full to bursting sir" said the desk jockey "the only room left is reserved for a Mr Andy". It's quite common to juxtapose surnames and first names in India.
So my boss shouts "AHA! Thats mine, I'm A. Whitman, I'm A. Whitman"
The receptionist says (and I always smile when I relate this bit) "You may be a whiteman sir but you still cannot have Mr Andy's Room"

(Mon 21st Jan 2008, 15:32, More)

» Cheap Tat

xmas presents
My sister bought me some aftershave from poundland / 99c store. In fact she bought me two bottles, one was "red flavour" the other "blue flavour".
I tried it, then quickly washed it off. Although it failed miserably as an aftershave it make a fantastic fuel for my Zippo - and leaves a fragrant red/blue odour whenever I light a ciggie.
(Wed 9th Jan 2008, 10:44, More)

» Eccentrics

On the way to the Isle Of Mann
The head Of maintainance at my place has just told me this story a few seconds ago. As he is not a B3TAin I shall relate the story on his behalf.
Not sure if it counts as an eccentric or just a nutter story, but I think it's a very fine line.

He and his wife, who is a nurse had travelled to the Isle of Mann over the weekend to see thier son who lives there with his Manx girlfreind.
On the return journey on the ferry there was a commotion behind them and it quickly became apparant that someone had keeled over (oh funny! - ferry - keeled over. Ahem. Never mind)
The casualty is quickly removed to the first aid room by junior naughtical types. A few moments later a message is relayed via the Tannoy system to the effect "Is there a doctor on board?" So Mick's wife, the nurse, follows where the casualty was taken.
He is in the first aid surrounded by a load of very worried looking teenage ferry people. The nurse checks the guy over who is still twitching slightly from some form of siezure. She is just beginning to explain the situation to the crew when a very oddball gentleman walks in and says "I'm a doctor, get me 10 cc's of injectable ampicillin stat!"
Never looked at the casualty, didn't ask any questions, and ampicillin is a f£$king antibiotic , and WTF does "STAT" mean?. The nurse pulls one of the staff to one side and tells them that whatever this chap is - he is NOT a doctor.
Just then the bursar (or someone with lots of gold braids) walks in and asks for a report of the sitution. He listens to one of the crew until he notices the "doctor" in the corner of the room (who has now been dis-engaged from the still prone casualty).
"What the hell is Mad Ernie, doing here?"
"Mad Ernie?" says junior crewmember "er, he said he was a doctor"
"Yeah well," says Bursar "last week he said he was the fucking captain, get rid!"

Which I suppose goes to show that if you find yourself being tended by someone after being run-over, having a fit, or coming around from unconsciousness-- always, always ask for ID.
(Mon 3rd Nov 2008, 14:47, More)

» My Biggest Disappointment

Product Placement

there is a new sex drug on the market- "VIAZAC."
Half Viagra, half Prozac. If you dont get a fuck, you don't give a fuck.

Hope this helps
(Fri 27th Jun 2008, 10:26, More)

» Tightwads

The commissary.
I once worked at an agricultural research station in the middle of India, called ICRISAT. Alongside the facility there was about a 100 or so "halls of residence" type flatlets that the local Indian PhD students rented. Being stationed on campus had many benefits - constant clean water, security and perhaps most importantly - electricity; as there was an onsite generator.
But the powers at be were careful not to waste natural resources and hired (DUN DUN DARRR-- )The "Commissary of Housing."

The Commisarry of Housing (praise his name) used to walk around campus every night at 7 o'clock on the dot. If he spotted a light inside a student's room it could mean dire consequences.

He used to insist that it was wasting electricity if the light was on and the curtains open because "The light can leak out". He carried a longstick with him and
would tap on any offending windows.

I tried (tactfully) on several occasions to dissuade him but he continued (continues) to stop those pesky photons from escaping.

The strange thing is.... I still think he might be right. {scratches head, draws meaningless equations on napkin, gives up}
(Tue 28th Oct 2008, 11:25, More)
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