We March On

After the bombast of Friday night, Saturday was decidedly more low key as we got a couple of tables at DKD and proceeded to watch the tired faces from the night before roll in and many more cancel as they couldn’t get out of bed. Angela and her little sister were visiting with their parents and stayed long enough to pick up a few games of liars’ dice and bask in the sheen of China’s native drink, green tea and whiskey. Chace, Lucy, Mike, Eddie were good sports, as it became abundantly clear that we all would have rather been at home watching “Desperate Housewives.” Or re-runs of “Martin,” in Mike’s case. It made the affair more intimate and I was very grateful. Still, not to disappoint, we all ended up trashed anyway, and while struggling to cram pieces of mutton into my mouth at hot pot around 3 am, I suddenly asked myself “what the hell are you doing here” and quickly left with Wilkie, the pot still bubbling as we got into the cab.

Same bat-time, same bat-channel: the four returning members of last year’s birthday romp

Sunday was what I had planned to be my “PG-rated Day of Rest with No Alcohol.” I invited some co-workers from Intel for…not much. I hadn’t though ahead, and when I forced myself up at 10 am, I was struck with the sudden realization that I did not know how to entertain Chinese people. There are a lot more rules and regulations here, from little things like offering slippers for guests who walk in the door to big things like farting at the dinner table if an elder farts first. In the end, the problem of not having anything for the guests to do was solved as I decided to just relax in front of the TV and let them take care of everything, from the cooking to the cleaning. My co-workers paid me back by employing the ancient Chinese kung-fu battle tactic of smearing cake frosting all over my face, but it was small retribution for the free Heineken and diarrhea inducing pig-ears that my guests brought.

The good sport. 好甜哦!

Monday was the day of my actual birthday. After dinner at Simply Thai, Eddie and Mike and I headed to karaoke with Selina and all my old friends who worked at my favorite bar before it shut down. There are worse things in life than being shut in a small room with seven gorgeous girls and two bottles of whiskey. Both Mike and Eddie were exhausted from the previous few days, and though I felt bad that they were out here near sleep directly because of me, I didn’t know how to make it up to them except for making them drink and drink, which they gamely did. They were probably too tired from playing the “use your mouth to first pass this tissue, then this playing card, then this can of ginger ale to your neighbor” game. I rocked at the game; the other boys sucked nuts. Eddie should stop smoking, and Mike should learn how to inhale. What a strange world this is.

Look at Mikey go!

After a while, Eddie just couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and bolted, while Mike took a power nap on the couch, leaving me in compromising positions with the other girls. Not that I was complaining or anything; it was more blubbering like the stupid drunken idiot I always am.

The night was only beginning for me, with a midnight snack and a visit to two more clubs, in addition to more singing until 7:30 am. The weekend had finally come to an exhausting but fulfilling end, crammed to the brim with good friends, party pals, and lots and lots of liver-damaging gulps. I’ll definitely remember these past few days forever…at least, the parts that I remember.