The PD Weekend Pt 2

By the time we dragged ourselves up and got ready to leave the next day, we had already lost an entire afternoon. It’s okay to sleep in during the morning because that’s what holidays are for, to waste the entire morning stretching in bed and not be disturbed by alarm clocks or silly mothers who think sleeping through the day is hazardous to health.

Tigerlily was the only tragic victim of a hangover and she looked like she took a dip in a pool of whiskey, got up and got hit by a bicycle. Everyone else was sufficiently rested, though not everyone could sequentially piece together the events of the night, or knew how we eventually got back to the room.

When I said there was nothing to do in Port Dickson, I wasn’t kidding. CokeWhore told us that RollerGirl had planned to fit some water sports into their daytime activity, but that was crippled by the low tides in the day. And when I say low tide, I actually mean the water level receding 50 metres from the coastline. So, you would actually have to drag your jet ski so far out the beach, you’d probably be half way to India.

We eventually decided we would catch a shuttle bus down to Port Dickson town, just to soak up the place a little and cherish our Singaporean passports more. I don’t know what shuttle we took, but I’m pretty sure it could time travel, because when we got off the bus in the town, I was pretty sure I was back in the 70's and I could find buffaloes pulling carts or maybe a rickshaw around the corner.

I immediately called Niner to warn him not to join us and that we would tweak our plans and buy food and drinks back to have a warm-up drinking session at his hotel instead. So we went to the supermarket, got a bottle of Vasparov Vodka, 12 packets of Ribena, 10 cans of Red Bull and pledged to empty everything. All that for under S$50. I love Port Dickson.

It was one of those pre party sessions which revolved largely around story-telling and we would be swigging vodka so fast, everything became hilarious. Adrian told us one story about his experience at our local KFC outlet.

It was about this Ah Beng who ordered a two piece original meal and told the cashier,

“I don’t want the co-les-tor”

He said, it caught the cashier entirely off guard and it took about a minute before she realized he wasn’t saying ‘cholesterol’ but ‘coleslaw’. I laughed myself silly.

When we finally cleared the room and made our way down, it was already 10ish. We had lost over an hour of Cosmic Gate, but my liver was already well lined with vodka so much so that I was even ready to pour beer down it.

Then ‘As the rush comes’ blared over the speakers and the entire place became a sing-along karaoke session. Everyone started getting on their feet, everyone except for Tigerlily, who was still plastered to the ground. I immediately set off to find TB and some other friends, and was subsequently rewarded with a beer.

When I got back, Tigerlily was gone.

Me: “Where’s Tigerlily?”
Faith: “Medical Centre.”
Me: “Why the fuck did you guys put her there?”
Faith: “We didn’t! She checked herself in.”
Me: “HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

As much as I’m truly concerned for the well-being of my friends, I just thought the whole idea of her voluntarily putting herself there just so she could sleep, was hilarious. She paid for a 2 day pass, travelled 4 hours up, took a day’s leave, got pissed ass wasted on the first night, didn’t remember a thing and now, she was sleeping in the medical tentage, while Tiesto was spinning. Truly amazing.

The rave was still very much as good as it was on the first day. They could blow ten speakers and still kick ZoukOut’s ass twice over. And the great part was that despite the security, dress prohibitions and the loom of religious values, this was still very much in tangent with rave culture. And by that I meant drugs, sex and frantic waving of light sticks.

There were people snorting lines in the toilets, breaking pills over the basin and furtively passing bags between one another. This was so widespread, it disengaged the norms of regular clubbing etiquette. For one, you have to understand that rave culture is a contagious erosion of moral education. It is an inversion of societal acceptance and a perversion of social mores.

Some of you might disagree with me that rave parties are not always associated to drugs, but that’s because you live in Disneyland, think Goofy should run for president and have probably never been properly educated on reality. In short, you are wrong. Rave parties without the presence of drugs, is like being a eunuch in an orgy. Bet that’s a lot of fun.

There was this particular individual who was a second degree friend, who went through both nights not having a single drop of alcohol or neither was she chemically induced. She was that clean, she was that hyper and she looked like she was having so much fun, I pointed to her and said,

“You’ll never see fat people having this much fun, without at least dying from heart failure.”

That being said, having a blog with quite an audience means that I have a responsibility to uphold, despite the moral vacuum I have created. I am not encouraging the use of drugs, and obviously you don’t need drugs to enjoy a rave, but you'll need people to collapse from drugs just so that you can laugh at them to make up for it.

The finale was insanely unbelievable. It was so good, I actually got goose bumps just standing rooted to my spot, while hundreds poured in to catch the fireworks. Instead of trying to describe the scene, here's the video.



There are tons of video uploaded onto YouTube that would have given it better credit. And yes, there were THAT many people. We were actually standing at the back where the tarmac area was, but by the time Tiesto played Adagio for Strings, people started flooding in and we became the middle. It was like the second exodus, only this time, this was the promise land.

Now, was that all that actually happened? Obviously not. Since when have you known me to behave?