why dont i ever like the good guys? 

on march 24, we got on an airplane at 8 in the morning. on march 25, we arrived in new delhi, india at 8 in the evening. i was caught in a daze during that time in between, but once we stepped outside at our destination, i was jolted back to life. a driver was waiting and rushed us across the street and into a hotel car, where we were "safe". the 40 minute ride to the hotel was already overwhelming. . . my mind was on overload, my thirsty eyes trying hard not to miss a thing. the hotel was clean and disgustingly wealthy; louis vuitton and dior boutiques occuppied the lobby while people starved outside (but as they said, they must please the american visitors). the night's surrealism was complete when my sister and i had showered and changed and made our way to the party on the rooftop. we went through the doors, felt the warm breeze of new delhi with its natural smell of spices and smoke wafting across the terrace, and just as we entered to see our entire family waiting, "hurricane" by bob dylan came blasting through the speakers.