You HAVE To Try This!

So I get stuck with a client that wants to grab a late lunch (3:30).  "Oh, you have to try this restaurant I stumbled across last time I was in town.  The best Indian/Burmese food ever!"  Uh, Burmese food?  I am not quite sure what that consists of but I know Indian food sucks ball so we are off on the wrong foot already.   I told him I already ate so he invited me to join him and we could talk shop.  SIDE NOTE: I hate the term "talk shop".   Jackasses use this term to sound like they are Johnny Business.  Wrong, you are Johnny Douche that is going to waste a hour of my life. Anyway, we get to the restaurant and it is the only place in the shopping center where there are not vagrants hanging outside and when I get within 15 feet I know why.  If you restaurant smells like the combination of a pot of boiling diarrhea and a small electrical fire, I am not eating or sitting or staying for that matter.  If the hobos won't go near your door because of the smell, there are some serious issues a foot.  But, lucky me, I am with my client so have to enter the war zone.  My eyes start watering upon entry and to my utter shock, there is no one in the place.   We sit down in some booth concoction dreamed up by someone who thinks humans cannot be taller than 5 foot 6.  My client is going to eat light which occording to the platter that was put in front of us, is eating for about four people.  Pigs would run from this platter.  "You have to try this stuff here.  I know it looks bad, but give it a try."  It looks bad?  It looks fucking awful.  How do you get food that color?  Oh, and if you have to call it paste, it is going to tastle like the inside of a camels asshole, also where I think most of this muck came from.  Paste?  Really?  Last time I heard of someone eating paste was in preschool and I am pretty sure that kid had brain damage.  And no, I don't have to try it.  I don't have to try shit, I am still in America, I think, so I will again pass.  Just like you don't have to try taking a kick from me to your trouser snake, I don't have to eat your crap.  Also, a lot of hand eating at this joint.  WTF is that all about?  I am waiting for Grog the caveman to come out and join my client to teach him the suttle nuances of hand slop.  I cannot wait to get back outside just so I can smell something other than sweat, curry, fire, death, and butt paste.  Even the water tasted different.  Probably do to my senses in panic mode and the smell has made it's way into this watery liquid via some form of osmosis.

Cliff Notes version of the end is I say I have to get going and he says he is going to stick around.  For what exactly, that is for his ass to figure out.  I am not sure I was in a full sprint out of this place but it was close.  I am going to have to throw my cloths away.  Just stay away from any restaurant that has Manish or Manush in the name.  You will thank me, so will your bowels.