Sex in the Presidential Election voting party

I still find it hard to believe, but last Tuesday Oct. 21, a gaggle of Americans in India got together at this sea food place in Lodi Garden, Delhi to cast our absentee, long-distance ballots for Illinois Sen. Barack Obama -- the tall, mocha, and wholesome man we all want to triumph in this year's Presidential Election.

Aside from the Wow-gloss of dropping my second major election vote in India, I was surprised how much I miss Americans... especially our dorky small talk... ahhh, you know the kind that swings from self-deprecation in one breath to self-referential adulation in the next. It's the sort of short-hand talk that gives waaay to many personal, juicy details, then sobers up to talk politics and careers.

Allow me this one generalization, pleaase! But everyday Americans are so loud, so front-porch story-tellers, and we wrap our humor around our disgraces. And it's something I think I can't live without, having been in India and grown tired of the manners culture here among middle-class Indians.

Middle-class Indians, like the ones working at my newspaper remind me so much of everyday Africans. In a greeting, you gotta step through so many formalities before you start talking about the dirt. Meeting an Indian or an African, (and again, my analysis only works if you appreciate the value of some-truth-based stereotypes)-- you can bank on the following questions:

What are you studying?

How do you like Indian/African food? Is it too spicy for you?

How do you like Delhi/ eerr say Dakar?

What do your parents do? Where are they from?

Are you married?

Of course Americans also bounce through scripts, but it's rare you'll find the conversation I had with one respectfully employed American at the party, on the first talk with an Indian in Delhi.

Me: Oh so you visited Mumbai, I hear the city is so much fun!

The American: Yeh! On my first time there I went to a G-rated brothel.

Me: You went to a brothel? What?! Wait, what's a G-rated brothel!?!

The American: I know man! See you go in, and the girls line up with their backs to you, then they take turns turning around to smile at you. Then, they'll walk up to you to talk if they want.

Me: And you pay for this?

The American: Yeh, some guys get off on just the flirt!

Me: Wooooow...

The American guy's friend: Oh man, I totally forgot, we can go to a strip club in India! Man, let's go to a strip club!

Me: Hahahahahahah... so what are you guys doing here again?

The American: We just started a solar paneling business. It's our first couple weeks in India and we're excited to be here.

Ah, I love the smell of self-asserting irreverence and I-don't-give-a-hoot-what-you-think (as long as I'm not doing harm to the world), and especially at an election party...

Go-Bama!