Well that Botanic Gardens trip last Friday afternoon was all about a team building exercise. The HR department at the Poly organises this kind of fun activities for the staff every so often... And I couldn't miss the opportunity to swap the office for the afternoon in the park. If I had a 'to do' list of things to see, like some very organised tourists (e.g. my first visitor Hrvi :), I could have experienced the satisfaction of ticking one item off...
The staff that attended the trip were split into groups by the department. Each group had to complete the tasks that required finding the answers by exploring the park and at the same time solve a set of questions that resembled IQ testing. The album tells the story:
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In a scene from the upcoming musical based loosely on my life, “an evening with a moustache”, the central character, rasp (a wittily ironic name, given his heavenly falsetto) experiences an epiphany of sorts in a serbian coffee house.
rasp becomes involved in a heated argument with two serbs seated at the next table, one a seven foot trenchdigger and the other an evil midget genius, regarding the relationship between improving dental hygiene practices in the subcontinent and the recent dramatic decline in the quality of science fiction novellas (the serbs, foolishly, assert the latter to have been caused by the former; rasp maintains that the causal relationship is obviously the other way around, and that the pair must be on acid).
as the conflict threatens to escalate into violence and urination, the waiter, a well-read and sensitive young fellow, intervenes and quickly diffuses it by delivering a compelling thesis on dialectical materialism as model for explaining the consistency of porridge. the beautifully enunciated lecture captivates the entire café for more than an hour. during this time, the wine flows freely, emotions run high, and more than a few tears are shed (the behemoth, in particular, turns out to be a profuse bubbler). by the dramatic conclusion, the former adversaries are now firm friends, having been bound eternally by the heart-rending shared experience.
later in the evening, the conversation predictably turns to matters of a homosexual nature. the goliath, who as a victim of direct syndrome tends to blurt out statements which could euphemistically be described as controversial, declares “in my country, we kill faggots”. rasp turns to the evil midget genius, who has a stephon marbury-like disproportionately large cranium; he confirms the statement with a simple nod of his huge head.
And what can we learn from this: don’t be a faggot in serbia
if you must live in serbia, be an intellectual moonlighting as a waiter. or an evil midget genius.
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