Playing Host - Pt 1

We all know that alcohol is the paradoxically the greatest social adhesive and primary culprit for social unrest – unless you consider shotgun marriages. It is also used to explain many things like bringing strangers together, lying on the pavements outside clubs, accidental upskirts, sex with animals, UFOs and bar fights.

I know alcohol is a volatile agent that actually causes schizophrenia because I am equally guilty of many escapades that I would normally never do. I’ve seen men turn into complete wildcards and women into closet showgirls, so much so that they only needed a wrap themselves in aluminum foil to qualify as a Transformer.

Very rarely am I sober and tasked to babysit the inebriated ones. Very rarely do I doubt the merits of alcohol and believe that an intemperate flirt with it is a bad idea. Very rarely am I struck with panic pangs that my life would end in a bar fight. And very rarely am I not the one misbehaving.

Over the week, we had to host the riders who were in town for the Red Bull X-Fighters exhibition tour. This is generally a good thing because it is an added reason to party, so whilst everyone else complained about an encroachment into private spaces and time, I secretly rejoiced.

That was until I met them at Zouk, and realized that this was going to be the worse night of my life.

For one, being Europeans and celebrities in their own rights, meant that the tourist mentality of superiority and appetite for madness was on a magnitude beyond the social bindings of Asian norms and etiquette. And whatever handful they were to begin with, the introduction of alcohol into them, made them the single most implosive group I’ve partied with.

After we left Velvet for Zouk’s members area, they were almost impossible to contain. The flurry of bass thumping and Asians in mini-skirts exacerbated the situation gravely. They started hitting on every girl – and I emphasize, EVERY – that they saw on the way .

And this wasn’t even just about making conversations and introductions. They were practically groping everything that was in a skirt. I was convinced that they would have hit one Scottish men in kilts so long as they had enough drinks.

What made matters worse was that the members area was packed with people and it was hard enough to walk, let along attempt to usher four testosterone charged men to our table. Apparently being crowded just meant that they now had more women to grope and hit on. They went crazy, like R Kelly at a kindergarten.

Next thing I know, one of them was throwing ice onto the dance floor another trying to have his hands up every girl’s skirt. One of them went round asking every girl if she was shaven and the last one was making out with a random chick whom I realized was ladyboy.

It got so bad, we had to cut short out stint there because if they stayed there any longer, at least one of them was going to be spending his night in the police station. It was really a matter of putting a sheath to their misdemeanor and there was only one place in Singapore that could swallow their antics like a porn starlet to cum; Orchard Towers.

Along the way we started making fun of Morgan because he kept refusing to believe that the girl he was making out with used to have a penis.

Morgan: “Hey, I put my hand under her skirt and there were no balls. There was a pussy so she is a girl.”
Nick: “That’s because she chopped off her dick!”
Morgan: “Hey, if you put a 250cc on a 150cc. Is it a 150 or a 250? I say it is a 250.”
Me: “If you put a Honda sticker on a Mitsubishi. It is STILL a Mitsubishi.”

If I thought the short escapades at members was a torrid test of patience and teasing for disaster to strike, then I had no idea what I was in for on the car ride to Orchard Towers.

I didn’t realize that.

1. Seat belts are meant to be ignored.
2. It is perfectly ok to stick your body out the window.
3. The space between the driver and front passenger was meant for people to squeeze through.

When we got there it was like watching a re-enactment of what unfolded in Zouk. They hadn’t lost their momentum in their onslaught to get us all killed in a bar fight. One of them was still going round asking the girls if they were clean shaven, another had his hands down the panties of so many girls of different nationality, that his fingers would have smelt like the SEA games.

One of them eventually pissed a ladyboy off –I have no idea what he said, but I know she was pissed because she was yelling across the escalators outside the club. I knew she was pissed because she was yelling,

She: “Your mother sleep with other men. You are a slut.”

This was in your best pseudo high pitched Thai accent. And Nick snapped. From there he begun to rap and dance and it tickled me to no end because all he was saying was just,

“You got no vagina down there!!”

It was hilarious because he was dancing in the middle of the escalator and yelling his crude rap at a ladyboy. She of course knew that it was about her so she did what she did best, and that was looking ugly while staring at him.

I will give it to him because it was the single most hilarious thing I saw all night and I couldn’t stop laughing. The best part was that the other ladyboys who had no idea what he was singing, started dancing to his rap when everything about his rap was mocking them.

Picture this. There were two of them gyrating to the beat of a song with rap lyrics that said.

“You got no vagina!!”