I’m in Hyderabad, which along with Bangalore has become shorthand for outsourcing. Thomas Friedman is a Jackass. That has nothing to do with my point, but he helped put these places on the map as boogie monsters challenging American supremacy.

On to the clichés: Overcrowded, polluted by toxic gasses and blaring horns, auto-rickshaws still battling in the streets with families on scooters and bikes (motorized and not), no real traffic laws except some bare logic of don’t hit and don’t get hit, no personal space either on the road or in public spaces––driving two inches from other vehicles is common place––people bumping into you like a natural barrier, idiot male machismo that won’t step out of the way even if they’re in the wrong––physically and during conversations––horrific miming of Euro-American male fashion that is totally inappropriate for the climate––seriously who wears a sweater vest over a dress shirt with a popped collar during the summer in India?––and tacky combinations that make the eyes hurt, tiny low powered cars that are trying to emulate Bentlys from Rap videos––an auto-rickshaw is not supposed to bump, although that was pretty cool––among many other oddities.

“Learn to queue you fucking savages.”

The people are so much smaller than me it’s crazy. I’m not very tall, am a bit stocky, but I’m at least a few inches taller than most and much thicker. I’ve unhappily developed an American spare tire, which my family is happy to point out.

I used to be looked at like a space alien, my NRI (non-resident Indian) status plainly obvious, but not so much now; a quick glance if anything, then they are moving on.