Earlier this week, I was running the lake front. I was wearing a t-shirt I bought in Cambodia. It has three elephants on the front and the word, “CAMBODIA” printed on the back in 300 pt font.
I notice most everyone passing me in either direction, and one guy was a brown Asian on a bike. Brown from daily sun, I would guess.
About five or ten minutes later, I look to my left, and there’s the man on the bike riding right next to me. His mouth is moving and he’s smiling. I can’t hear him, because I’ve got earphones in.
I look at him for a long second. What ran through my mind is his asshole was asking for money. I let him sweat it for a moment or two, but he seemed determined.
I pulled out my earphone and left it to dangle.
“How did you find, Cambodia?” the man said.
“Oh, yeah, gosh, it was great,” I said panting. I kept running. It was my 8-mile day. And this guy wasn’t going to change that. “Are you Cambodian?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. The little guy was at a seminar in Indiana, and he took a three-day trip to Chicago.
I asked him how his visit was, and he said, “I don’t know, this is my first day.”
A quick glance around showed that it was a gorgeous day and the city was soaking up beautiful warm sunlight. He obviously didn’t know that visually you can already make a judgement.
We talked for about a quarter of a mile before he finally said, “Okay, thanks for talking to me.” And we parted ways.
Oddly enough, when I wear my Cambodia t-shirt, I often wonder why more people don’t stop me to ask. I mean, who goes to Cambodia?
Not many people, right?
Gosh, I want to travel. Come on guys. Let’s go somewhere where they sell t-shirts with exotic names on the back.
Le Café Wittypoots 