In which Tim purchases a camera, gets very wet, and eats fried chicken

It started off as a fairly normal afternoon trip to the market. The traffic was bad, the rickshaw driver wanted too much money, etc. etc. I was purchasing a new digital camera (I lost mine recently. Oh well, great excuse to get a new one! After all, I can't be in Bangladesh without a camera...). After finding the store, being served by five salesmen at once, and emerging back on to the crowded street, I noticed that this errand had not taken as long as I thought it would. I could still visit the Indian embassy to pick up a visa application before they closed for the weekend. I had probably a mile and a half to travel, and failed to take note of the foreboding dark clouds on the horizon.

A short walk, a rickshaw ride, and another short walk later it had started to sprinkle. I didn't think to take shelter, figuring that I would have plenty of time before it started to rain too hard. I was horribly wrong. Within a matter of minutes, the skies had opened up as though God himself were pouring down his judgment in a manner worthy of the Old Testament. I was soaked to the bone. The paper bag that I was carrying my new camera in had melted (fortunately the camera box was quite a bit tougher. I won't have to buy yet another camera.).

I was just around the corner from the Indian embassy, and it would have been a shame to waste the trip. So in I went, and asked for a visa application. I wonder what they could have thought of this tall, out of breath, wet white person who stumbled through the gate, unable to see through his own glasses. I know that if I were a visa officer I would be hesitant to let someone like that in.

It was still pouring when I emerged from the embassy (I was hesitant to overstay my welcome), and the nearest shelter just happened to be good ol' Kentucky Fried Chicken, and it was about snack time. So in I went, not realizing how wet I was until I noticed an employee following me with a mop, trying to clean up the flood I was wreaking on his shiny marble floor. I tried to apologize, but I just got a big smile and a "no problem sir. Please enjoy, sir." So I sat down, ate my chicken, and waited for the rain to pass.

Pass it did, and I began the journey home, quite damp in my business style clothes. That's when the kids started making fun of me. Usually when little children accost me on the street they are after money. This time, they seemed content to laugh and tug on my sleeves. It wouldn't have bothered me much, but their numbers were growing. When I thought I could count a dozen kids, and I realized that I was beginning to jog to get away, I decided enough was enough. I got in a rickshaw to ride the two blocks home, and overpaid terribly.

I must remember to carry smaller bills with me.

And maybe an umbrella...