Spending the first week in India at the Oberoi hotel in Delhi, with the chocolate truffles and the goose down pillows, and the fawning room service, with sareed princesses and Indian princes greeting us with Namaste yoga hands around every corner — may or may not have been a great idea.
It’s frighteningly easy to get used to having things done for me. While I was in the sauna yesterday a delicate hand pulled open the glass door, and the sareed princess attendant asked if she could do anything for me. Which got me to wondering if it was possible to pay someone to sit on my ass and do nothing for me while I work long and hard and productively, so that I’ll remain in a perpetually refreshed state while accomplishing all I want to accomplish in this world. I considered asking the young woman if she could count my blessings for me.
What makes this grandeur even more delicious, is knowing that it could all come to an end at any moment. Knowing that the building could be swarmed with armed gunmen with a point to make or a cause to publicize. I start to picture bullet holes in the marble walls and thousands of plate glass windows shattered into spiderwebs…then I pick up a dark chocolate truffle and stare out the window at the city below as it melts in my mouth. Butler, bring me my Kevlar…