The day’s highlight was dropping off the fluff-and-fold, setting up the sheets to wash, and strolling out just as A. came along the sidewalk and onto the parking lot. At least, that was until we crossed the street to the local bar and we each had a beverage while she let me explain the sportsball on the big screens in front of us. All the while, the jukebox was on sort of an automatic uptempo bottle-popping club-hits-for-radio groove before somebody swiped their card and threw on a little Hank Williams, some 1950s rock and ballad chestnuts. Out of the blue, I asked A. if she wanted to hear something else. The jukebox didn’t want to take my dollar bills, so the bartender used her phone to give me some credits. I found “Chura Liya Hai Tumne Jo Dil Ko” and “Dum Maro Dum” off a Bollywood greatest-hits CD, then the Moody Blues’ “Nights In White Satin” and finally B.B. King’s “The Thrill Is Gone.” Back at my barstool, I made the obvious jokes about how cowboy music needed some Indian music counterprogramming, as well as how this was country music of a sort, just a different country. And we sipped and smiled, and the other bar patrons didn’t seem to mind much at all.