Sleepless in China

This is perhaps the longest I’ve been silent of any literary merits, and no I’m not on a sabbatical nor have I abandoned my blog. Truth is, I’ve been away a lot, I’m having trouble with my desk top and there just isn’t enough hours in a day to mix writing and drinking.

So where do I start? The nights in Hong Kong? The one I nearly shat my pants? The Turi beach pool that we tainted with Red Bull and Whiskey? The one we fed ceramic plates to crocodiles? This was the one in China..

Sometime back we made a trip to China. It was a less than refreshing welcome back to a place that seemed very much the backwash of rapid commercialization in Macau – save for the slightly cool weather.

It was back to the all too familiar sights of men spitting by the road, dwarfed puppies on sale for 100RMB, traffic lights that no one gave a shit about and if you think about it, they only need to sell fried rats and this could actually pass off as Bangkok..

The thing about this particular part of China, is that there really isn’t anything to do, unless you love cheap clothes that look like it’s from a basket sale at emporium. Electronic stuffs are great too, just that nothing is ever real, so you can buy Nokia models that are so advanced, the guys in Sweden don’t even know it’s out.

So what’s left is to wait in baited anticipation for dinner – because no one ever wakes up for lunch-, then for night because having alcohol before the sun sets just isn’t good for the liver.

This was one night where the party had adjourned to one of the larger local joints and everyone was trashed. And I know we were because one of them refused to wear his pants and I don’t even remember how many bottles of champagne, vodka and cognac we went through.

That embarrassment is something we have sworn not to discuss again, so it’s beyond me to relate the matter in public, especially when most of that insanity didn’t even come from me.

What I did remember was that by the end of the night, we chalked up about quite an impressive tab and the place didn’t accept credit cards. By then most of the guys had left and the remaining four of us had to literally clear out pockets down to the coins just to make the figure.

And for a moment, I was convinced we wouldn’t have enough cash and that all of us had to sell a part of our organ to make up the difference. At that point, I was ready to part with my liver, and throw in a testicle for another bottle of champagne.

Then everyone left, staggering out of the bar, and I was stuck with Nana who had to send one of his friend who had been playing host to us back. It was going to be a quick detour to her place and then back to our hotel for some much needed sleep.

And then it went from a quick drop off to having to make sure she got up to her place because she was so drunk out her wits, she even had problems with the front lobby door. So we became Samaritans and then five minutes later when we finally got in, she passed out on Nana and I found myself walking round the place trying to entertain myself.

Remember, I was drunk, very bored and restless. And what would anyone in my state do when there is a fruit basket in front of them with a pair of knives? If you said, ‘cut some fruits to eat’, then you must be gay and never been drunk before.

Next I know, I was fighting the fruits with the knives while Nana looked on in bewilderment. I had, when I was done with it, disfigured the fruits so badly you wouldn’t know a banana from a pineapple.

Me: “Do you think she’ll notice if we stole her stuff?”

I scanned round the room, threw some cosmetics out the window then tried to move the television.

Me: “This is fucking heavy!”

Nana looked on in amusement.

Me: “Let’s get out of here. It’s boring!”

So we left and mind you, this was some apartment that had no lights at the corridors so imagine how many problems we had going down with enough alcohol in us to drown a ferret.

When we got to the door, I started blind feeling for the latch which felt like some funny knob that I couldn’t figure if I had to turn it, push it or to pee on it. Neither worked, and then slowly it dawned on me, perhaps we needed a key to open. We were fucked.

Me: “Nana, this is not funny. I can’t open the door. Not funny I tell you, we are going to be stuck in here till morning. Not funny man, not funny at all.”

He looked on once again. Silent, with a frown but his lips pursed together almost breaking into a smile. All this while I continued frantically fiddling with the knob.

Me: “FUCK!! We’re going to be stuck here!!”

Any moment now, I was going to break into tears just so that it might lubricate the door enough to slide open.

Me: “Not funny Nana, not funny…”

Then he pushed the gate and it miraculously swung open. And then I realized, all this while, I was pulling the side gate which wasn’t suppose to open to begin with.

Oh, and the knob? It was a screw.