Saturday, October 16, 2010

Culture Clash

Paul's cousins are visiting from Russia. One of them, Boris, developed a huge blistery cold sore on his lower lip. We were all at dinner last week when everyone thought it would be a good idea to swap drinks to try out the different variety of beers the pub brewed on-premise.

Boris, arm outstretched, motioned for Paul. Paul, drink in hand, raised his eyebrow in confusion. Boris continued motioning for him.

"What do you want?" Paul asked.

"Your drink," came the answer.

Paul froze, looked down at his glass, then up at the crusty red wound on his cousin's lip.

"But you have the herpes!" Paul exclaimed, pointing at Boris with an accustory finger. A strange silence swept across the table.

His cousin's expression fell and waved his hand to attract the waitress's attention. "Can I have ... a straw?" he inquired.

"For what?" asked Paul.

Boris shrugged: "To drink your beer."

When the straw came, he plopped it in Paul's glass, and got to drink the raspberry concoction he'd wanted.

As we were lying in bed that night, he explained how blasé Russian people are in regards to contracting these things. "Even with the straw, I'm worried he might've given it to me."

And by proxy, ME! Crapppppp!

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