BESTSELLERS & BEST FRIENDS
My book publishing blog, with murder mysteries woven through it.
If this is your first visit, be sure to start with “1. Let’s do it!”
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Randy loved this story. I owe it to him...
So, several decades after my first airplane ride ever at age 20 (Pittsburgh to Baltimore) and my first bite ever of Chinese food at age 23, I had a six-hour flight to London then a quick connection for a 13-hour flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, where (in all of my ignorance) I assumed the food would be just like the Chinese take-out north of Boston which our family enjoyed on Friday nights.
The wonderful Pearson staff in Malaysia was intent on grabbing its territory’s online market for parents, teachers, and kids. Which is exactly what my Pearson business unit, Family Education Network (FEN), was doing in North America. So it made sense to meet and brainstorm.
I landed in Kuala Lumpur, grabbed a taxi from the airport (and wow, what an airport—it has a rain forest in it!), arrived at a Hilton, got my room, and oh boy, I was hungry. But it was late, the hotel’s restaurants were closed, and I had been warned not to wander off the Hilton property. So I turned to the mini-bar. I had a Snickers. Then another. And fell asleep.
The next morning eight of us were to discuss what markets to target. Pre-school, primary, and/or secondary? Educators at public, private, and/or British and American schools? Parents with children of what ages on what computers and browsers learning what stuff?
But first, breakfast. I rushed to the hotel’s big breakfast buffet. But oh-oh, that didn’t smell right. Not at all like the Mandarin Palace on Route 1 north of Boston. Even the scrambled eggs were off, almost smelling rotten. What the hell? I quickly Googled. “Malaysian flavors are a unique combination of sweet, sour, rich and spicy, combined in a way unlike any other country's cuisine.” That’s for sure.
I ran back up to my room and grabbed a Snickers from the mini-bar. Then another just to be safe.
I was starving by the time we broke for lunch. Our hosts excitedly treated us to their favorite restaurant, a short drive out of town. We arrived to what was not much more than a shack, next to a lake, where we sat at picnic tables. The thing is, I don’t like fish. So here at lakeside, lunch wasn’t looking promising.
Our hosts kindly ordered for us.
Then the waiter ran into the front of the shack, and seconds later a guy with a bloody apron ran out of the back of the shack. There were buckets sitting among fishing poles next to the lake. He grabbed several fish from the buckets and ran back to the shack.
Ten minutes later the waiter walked out of the shack with our lunches.
A fish head with eyeballs looked at me from the bowl I was served. And there was that same pungent smell of the scrambled eggs, mixed with a powerful fishy odor. I poked at the bowl. My kind host asked if I was enjoying the meal. I did one of those, “Oh, it’s wonderful! I’m just not much of a lunch eater. Big on breakfast and supper, but not so much lunch. Always been that way. My Dad too. Even my cousins....” I’m just rambling, making up shit. And starving.
In the afternoon we talked about technologies and different revenue models. Then I skipped the group dinner saying I had some critical business to work on, rushed to my room, quickly opened the mini-bar and had two Snickers. Then another.
The next day and the next day were much the same. Two Snickers for breakfast. And another snuck into my briefcase for lunch. Then three more for supper.
The next morning, I checked out of the Hilton before heading to the airport. The front desk clerk quickly ran through my bill, like they do, me nodding, not paying attention. Why bother, they’ll be some confusing currency exchange rate on the statement anyway. I signed the bill.
Three weeks later my corporate American Express statement arrived to our CFO. That’s how it worked, so he could first approve my expenses, making sure there was no personal use or un-allowed first-class airplane tickets.
He wandered into my office, bill in hand.
I looked up. He said, “$792 in Snickers?”
Tomorrow: Randy’s loft