Socks and sandals...

Some guy tried to sell me drugs today.

Apparently, I look like the kind of gal who would buy drugs from a matatu (crazy public transportation mini-bus) money-man.

I can only assume he thought I was already impaired. And I can understand that, I suppose. I was out in Nairobi (aka: public) wearing nappy scrub pants, thick green athletic socks with flip-flop sandals, a technicolored scarf and my AIM fleece. Only a person on drugs would wear that.

Anyway, he was adamantly offering me this plant that Kenyan men like to chew and when I said no, he would only press me as to why.

I told him to ask my D.A.R.E. officer.

He didn’t get it.

(Sorry, Sgt. K.)

He proceeded with the argument that all Kenyans like the drug, and, why—golly!—even the driver here, he was chewing it. Somehow, I found that neither compelling nor comforting. (The secret to crazy Nairobi driving, revealed.) Thankfully, my stop was pretty close.

So, today’s lesson? Don’t wear socks with sandals, ‘cause people will assume you’re a druggie and try to sell you illegal substances.

Oh, and don’t do drugs.