So I'm upstairs in this open air bar in Cambodia, see. I'm watching this band of Khmers (ethnic Cambodians) whose lead singer looks like a Buddhist monk; hell, maybe he is. They belt out a couple of popular tunes that the Korean women seated at a table across the place sing-a-long to, their buzzes readily apparent to all within earshot. I'm chattin' with this Thai chick next to me who owns a shop in town here, and she has caught on to my writing. Daddy-oh.
So the band belts out Country Roads, and I'm thinkin', John Denver! West Virginia! Right here in the wet-dry tropics of rural SE Asia! Damn! I love this landmine infested country! They finish the Mountaineer anthem, and the Koreans are goin' nuts. The Cambodians seem unfazed, but as the lone Euro in the crowd, I feel a bit like secret agent man in the movies. The Koreans continue to cheer and sing horribly as they polish off their pitchers of Tiger beer, Vietnam's finest, and I figure I oughta let these clowns know that they did my alma mater proud with their tunes. After they finish a few more songs - sung in Khmer or Thai but equally enjoyable - I make my way over to the boys in the band. I tells 'em, like hey, I went to WVU! I'm a Mountaineer! Thanks for Country Roads!
They stare at me, smile politely, and give me that look that unmistakably tells me that they don't understand a word I'm saying. I amble back to my seat, a little deflated, and order another Tiger. Then I get excited again, knowing that this story will delight West Virginians throughout the world in the coming years. In Cambodia! Damn!
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