The Macau Story - Pt 2

When they suggested that we have dim sum for breakfast, I celebrated the suggestion with a furtive punch to the air. It only made sense that we indulge in staple routines of the average locals and a shrimp dumpling over some tea sounded as good a morning perk as a courtesy morning tug between my thighs.

TT did the ordering since none of us were particularly picky over food, so long as it came warm and with a saucer of chilli padi. How can a morning dim sum ever stretch my expectations you ask? Right across the spectrum, I’ll tell you that.

When the dishes started being served, it took me by such surprise that I wondered if we had accidentally walked into a wedding banquet instead. Right before us lay a formidable cast of steamed garoupa, scallops, huge portions of meat, shark fins soup and tons of other dishes that it looked more like we were planning to have lunch through to supper at the same table.

Let me remind you again that this is breakfast. I had neither a huge appetite nor was I entirely sobered from the previous night of wild gallivanting. I've had many pleasantries in life; models, race-queens, ass rims and Pizza Hut deliveries, but never have I had shark’s fins for breakfast.

And mind you, this isn’t your stale grade mock fins, but this was so fresh, you could probably taste the legs of some surfer it chomped off in it's fins.

Me: “Ermm, is there Ha Gao (shrimp dumpling) coming?”
TT: “Oh, I didn't order any. Do you want?”

This was amazing. We had woken up for breakfast, walked 10mins to the restaurant for dim sum and yet there wasn’t a single authentic dim sum dish on the table. I very probably ordered what was to be the cheapest dish on the table, or for the holiday at least.

TT: “Later if you guys want dessert, there is this very famous herbal jelly stall. It’s very good, one cup is about HK$250.”

I nearly choked on the prawns.

HK$250 for a herbal jelly? That’s almost SGD$50. What the fuck do they have in that herbal jelly that the $5 ones in Singapore don't? What is in that shit? The turtle’s golden penis?

Right there, I swore, that if any moron said, ‘that sounds like a great idea’, I was going to jab him in the eyes with my ivory chopsticks and then catch a sampan back to Singapore. As much as I am willing to immerge in extravagance, my conscience cannot reconcile the fact of paying S$50 for something that doesn’t even have alcohol in it.

Out itinerary was already cast in stone before we even begun to wonder what we were doing next. TT had it all sorted and it was created around several conceptual pillars stemming from principles like ‘debauchery’, ‘epicureanism’ and ‘salacity’, of which is very much what life should be judged on.

He took us to the spa and he sold me on the idea when I heard the words, ‘naked girls dancing on the balcony’. This was a very posh place and not your run of the mill fuck joint with disguising massage services. And it was great because other than having to share the huge hot pool with other naked men, there was a whole resting area with delectable amenities and services.

For one, there was free food and it was a decent variety of noodles to rice to finger food that will make a decent competitor to Crystal Jade Kitchen. There were internet services and private rooms to sleep in. The only thing I frowned on was their poor selection of movies.

Basically, there was a whole menu of body care services available, which ranged from foot reflexology to ear waxing cleaning to manicures to body scrubs. And you pay for whatever service you want. Hell, you could even select a category of model to fuck. I took a look at the prices and thought,

Me: “HK$149 for a foot reflexology. That’s $139 divided by 20. That is DAMN CHEAP.”

I caps ‘damn cheap’ because that was exactly how it exclaimed in my head. Then one ear wax cleaning, one thigh massage and one foot reflexology later, I realized it. Fuck! I had gotten the exchange rate wrong. It was supposed to be divided by 5, which meant that I was paying S$30 to some asshole to punch my feet for 20mins.

The best thing was the body scrub because it apparently came with an ass scrubbing service too and I had my ass scrubbed so hard, that I think I she scrubbed the shit out of my ass for the next month so I will effectively not need toilet paper in the near future.

Then the disco alarm rang and suddenly people started to get up and head towards the pool area, and if I wasn’t pre-informed on this, I would have thought everyone was going to attend a mass dance at the pool area. Then I got there and there were 4 girls dancing at the over-looking balcony. Then one of the guys turned to me,

He: “They are going to strip.”
Me: “Really? Do not fuck with me, I cannot take disappointment.”
He: “Bottom also.”
Me: “Okay, then I will stand here. There are two of them that I don’t really want to see naked.”

In honesty, these girls were decently hot. I went back to the resting area and the ear cleaning lady told me that there would be Korean and Taiwanese models later in the day. I smiled so hard, you would have thought I had botox malfunction on my cheeks.

I didn’t get to see any of them anyway because we left before they came on and I went into epileptic fit when I saw my bill because I had chalked up S$280 in all that little miscellaneous services. All that money and I didn’t even fuck anyone, or thing. If this was BKK, I could have perhaps bought an elephant.

We then took a cab down to Sands Casino and you would think that being one of the largest casinos in Macau that it would breach the language barrier in Macau. But, no. The cab that we were on had no idea what we were saying and the only Cantonese speaking ones amongst us didn’t know how to say Sands in Cantonese.

They guys started throwing up all sorts of variations and he kept coming back with different ones that it seemed like we were never going to make it there. It came to a point that I was convinced that we were going to end up in Disneyland.

This is where I begin to rant about how much I hate casinos because I am hugely impulsive and capable of wiping out my winnings in a single fell swoop and then follow up with another foolish hand and double my previous day’s losses.

I swear I didn’t want to gamble, but sitting there and watching one of the guys built his chips into the tens of thousands from a measly 200 bet, was a test of discipline and that is one subject I fail badly in, along with commitment and attention.

The good thing was that TT informed us that we were going to check out the local clubbing scene that night and he promised a night of carousal insanity, which immediately erased my displeasure of gambling. I am so easily statisfied sometimes it scares me.

And this is would be the story of the night I got slapped and chased out of a house…