Ham sandwiched

I had a bit of an accident. I got hit by a motorbike. Actually, it wasn't the motorbike that hit me, it was the cargo. I didn't get hurt, but I smell delicious.

Traffic in Phnom Penh is chaotic by American standards, but I came from Saigon, so to me it seems positively sane. Seriously, looking back on my time living in Vietnam, the one thing that sticks in my mind is how stressful the simple act of walking down the street was.

I was walking by the Central Market. Just by the name you can guess that traffic in those parts is pretty frenetic. As I was crossing an intersection a motorbike turned onto the street, passing just in front of me. I paced my steps so that I would walk just behind it, but I didn't notice that it was carrying a Wide Load. The cargo clipped me on the hip.

The cargo was a pig. An entire, cooked pig. Its head bonked off me, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to make me laugh. I imagined the news getting home:

Mrs. Staggs, we're sorry to have to inform you that your son was killed in a hit-and-run accident. He was hit by a pig. Death was instantaneous. He didn't suffer, although he does smell like bacon. We would have notified you sooner but we were tracking down the perpetrator. We found him at a restaurant around the corner. He was being served with fried noodles and mushrooms. He was quite tasty.

Even my mother would have to laugh.