The more you eat the more you toot
I'm sure I'm misremembering this story, but it's fun to tell, nonetheless.
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Durians, the stinky fruit. I hate them. Well their smell at least. In Vietnam, Northern people hate Durians and Southerners love the stuff. You can tell when and were someone was born by their taste in fruit.
In my own family, this rule applies. My father and aunt were born int he north, and so hate it. Whereas my mother who was born in Saigon loves the stuff. She also loved my Dad too though, so when she had cravings, she would be careful to eat the durian in the kitchen late at night when everyone else in the house was asleep. With the lights turned off.
Singaporeans are also big fans of the stinky fruit. When I lived in Switzerland, I worked with a couple of Singaporeans. One day, on a walk around the local (and only) Asian grocery store in town, I found a single durian for sale at the outraageous price of 30USD. I would like to say that I had bought it because I thought that my friends and co-workers would enjoy it, but the way things turned out, I'm not so sure I was that altruistic. 30 USD is a lot of money after all.
So I got to my office, on the 5th floor of a Swiss bank no less, and displayed my durian to the whole office. We workeed in a "war room" format back then, which meant that the 40 of us had no privacy. We just worked on long wooden tables that tend to remind you of your high school cafeteria.
So, I held the durian above my head and said, "Look what I have." The Singaporeans eyes lit up in greed and anticipation. Someone who also took notice was my friend Andy, who had spent some time in the far East. He knew full well of the full destructive potential of a fully operational durian. As quickly as my Singaporean friends moved (think greased pig), Andy was faster.
He jumped up, grabbed the durian, and shot out the door. The Singaporeans followed soon after. I just shrugged, and figured my good deed of the day was done.
About half an hour later, I was up on the 6th floor, the top floor of our building in a meeting. As I am wont to do, I spent most of my time and all of my concentration on the clouds outside my window. Out of the corner of my eye, the door to the roof of the adjacent building shot open, and out ran Andy with the Durian. The four Singaporeans were close behind.
Like out of a Jackie Chan movie, they soon had him cornered on a rooftop, retrieved the errant durian, and ate it on the spot, right there on the roof.
**************
Durians, the stinky fruit. I hate them. Well their smell at least. In Vietnam, Northern people hate Durians and Southerners love the stuff. You can tell when and were someone was born by their taste in fruit.
In my own family, this rule applies. My father and aunt were born int he north, and so hate it. Whereas my mother who was born in Saigon loves the stuff. She also loved my Dad too though, so when she had cravings, she would be careful to eat the durian in the kitchen late at night when everyone else in the house was asleep. With the lights turned off.
Singaporeans are also big fans of the stinky fruit. When I lived in Switzerland, I worked with a couple of Singaporeans. One day, on a walk around the local (and only) Asian grocery store in town, I found a single durian for sale at the outraageous price of 30USD. I would like to say that I had bought it because I thought that my friends and co-workers would enjoy it, but the way things turned out, I'm not so sure I was that altruistic. 30 USD is a lot of money after all.
So I got to my office, on the 5th floor of a Swiss bank no less, and displayed my durian to the whole office. We workeed in a "war room" format back then, which meant that the 40 of us had no privacy. We just worked on long wooden tables that tend to remind you of your high school cafeteria.
So, I held the durian above my head and said, "Look what I have." The Singaporeans eyes lit up in greed and anticipation. Someone who also took notice was my friend Andy, who had spent some time in the far East. He knew full well of the full destructive potential of a fully operational durian. As quickly as my Singaporean friends moved (think greased pig), Andy was faster.
He jumped up, grabbed the durian, and shot out the door. The Singaporeans followed soon after. I just shrugged, and figured my good deed of the day was done.
About half an hour later, I was up on the 6th floor, the top floor of our building in a meeting. As I am wont to do, I spent most of my time and all of my concentration on the clouds outside my window. Out of the corner of my eye, the door to the roof of the adjacent building shot open, and out ran Andy with the Durian. The four Singaporeans were close behind.
Like out of a Jackie Chan movie, they soon had him cornered on a rooftop, retrieved the errant durian, and ate it on the spot, right there on the roof.