Chiang Mai, Thailand, at some ungodly hour a.m. and I’m fresh off an overnight bus. It’s mid-November, at the start of the Yi Peng lantern festival, and the tourists are taking over. I’m sitting at an outdoor cafe, staring a hole in my coffee while contemplating the state of my individually-wrapped 7-Eleven banana which, like me, has made the long trip from Bangkok.
Something catches my attention — American English, as spoken by two twenty-something females, probably from California.
“I’m gonna go with … “ She trails off, her eyes still scanning the menu. The waiter looks perplexed.
“She can’t be serious,” I think to myself. “Does
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