Cyrus found the whole experience of American hookah bars vaguely off-putting and orientalist, the children of soybean farmers and insurance salesmen sitting around eating stale falafel dipped in Costco hummus, smoking “Electric Raspberry” shisha from hookahs made in Taiwan. But he’d never been one to let his beliefs get in the way of a buzz, and the prospect of free-to-him booze and weed made Cyrus squirm with glee. “Apologies to Edward Said,” Cyrus said under his breath, thinking himself very clever.
