Butt of jokes in NYC

S., a classmate from my undergraduate days who runs a metallurgical business in Chennai, emailed that he was going to be in New York City this week.  D., another classmate, works in NYC doing something sophisticated involving financial analysis.  So, the three of us met in a comedy club (Caroline's ) in midtown.  Weekdays are apparently for "up-and-coming" stand-up acts -- ten different acts of about 10 minutes each.  D. and S. both live in cities with great comedy scenes, so they felt the show was only so-so.  Being from the boondocks, on the other hand, I loved it ...

We picked a table right next to the mike, even as D. warned us that we would be singled out if we sat there.  And yes, we did get singled out.  The host asked us whether we worked together.  "We went to school together," I replied.  She asked us where we went to school. "India," we said.  And so, several of the comics worked in Indian jokes into their material. One guy said he was annoyed at how Arabs in movies had Indian accents.  He did a hijacking in an Indian accent, and then repeated the words in an Arab accent.  Another guy said my mustache looked like that of an Indian porn star.  And proceeded to list the differences between an Indian wedding and an Indian porn film. "You're Indian, right?" he finally asked, "God forbid you're from Pakistan and I say you're Indian."

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