The German girl and I ordered breakfast on Fort View's rooftop restaurant, but it took longer to arrive than the first sentence of a President Bush speech. I temporarily left to meet up with the Scot at Jaisalmer fort 's second gate, as previously planned. The Scot has short chocolate hair and is six feet tall.
I returned with a six-foot-four-inch Kiwi law student with dark dreadlocks down his back who referred to himself as Rob Awesome from the asshole of the world. He loves New Zealand.
The Scot had told me and the Kiwi to meet him at the second gate at noon. Three hours later, while walking to organize a camel safari, we found the Scot. His train had been two hours late.
I entered Ganesh Travels with the Scot, German, and Kiwi. At the prospect of booking a camel safari, I experienced exhilaration previously only felt after I drunkenly announced, "Group Hug!" in a Vegas elevator years ago. Aside from myself, in the elevator were five people I didn't know. I enforced the group hug.
After booking a two-night safari, the organizer peeled through a suggested list. Sunscreen, a water bottle, pants, and sunglasses was followed by, "Bring soda, like Limca, Coke, Sprite, or beer," and, "You bring bhang cookies, but don't give to camel."
"Bhang cookies?" I asked with four-year-old innocence.
"Weed cookies," Organizer replied.
"Oh. Where can we possibly buy bhang cookies?" I questioned.
"At the government authorized bhang shop."
"Oh. Where can we possibly buy bhang cookies?" I questioned.
"At the government authorized bhang shop."
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