Lesson 1: Bombay is a party city

No matter what crazinesses New York brings into our daily lives, Bombay is just a whole different kettle of fish.

Our flight over was everything we could have hoped for. I'd been a bit worried that we might have a problem at airport security, seeing as I haven't had a chance to update my passport yet, but the kind people at security seemed unconcerned by the different names I bore on my ticket and passport, and who am I to interfere. We also managed to swing a seat in first class, which, on a thirteen hour flight, makes a world of difference. when we reached our seats, Delta and I gaped at each other in surprise. On this new 777 plane, no luxury had been spared. We had each been assigned little pods, and infact my only complaint would be (since I must have one), that out pods were so big it was difficult to talk to each other. As Simone would say, Oh, welp. They brought us a glass of champagne before the flight took off, and Delta and I toasted to our first trip to Bombay together. And positively gluggled the champagne in our excitement.

Our first night in the city, my parents said one of their friends were hosting a party, and had invited Delta and me to join. Would we be interested? Of course, we said. I mean, a quiet little get together with my parents friends, it would be a great chance for us to talk to everyone, right?
Wrong.

As soon as we entered the friend's apartment, Delta and I did a double-take. The apartment had been converted into a nightclub. The lights had been dimmed, loud bollywood music was pulsing through the apartment, alcohol was flowing freely, and everyone who had got there before us was pretty much already drunk. I mean, these were my parents friends!
"I'm heading for the bar," Delta murmured, and we knew we'd need a drink or two just to catch up. An hour into the evening, we'd eaten a bit, we had a couple of drinks in us, and we sashayed onto the dance floor and started pulling out our repertoire of bollywood moves. Jumps, hops, hand-swinging, head-bopping, spinning and twirling and hip-swinging, the entire kit and caboodle. I couldn't complain about it, it was rather fun. We just lost ourselves in the boogey of the moment. Although every few minutes, when we grew conscious of what we were doing, our eyes would meet and we'd laugh in sheer disbelief. Here we were, trying to keep up (and failing miserably) with the partying habits of my parents friends!

"Boy, Bombay sure is a party city!" Delta commented as we returned home later that evening, as we stared at each other in awestruck silence. And this marked the beginning of our vacation.