Thursday, April 03, 2008
the chronicles of hicksville - going boozing, part 1
The Adventure Labels: stories
As of today, I have been working for 26 consecutive days, stuck on a major project that is expected to run for another 15 days. In my recent performance review, my boss called me 'hardworking' which is weird because I have never ever been called hardworking. My teachers in school would laugh if they ever heard someone describe me as hardworking.
I haven't been back home since the Elections, so I haven't been able to see if there are any changes. I doubt it, since the MP near my area is a moron of the highest order. But let's leave the silly politics aside and let me get back to my story.
Being where I am, the majority of my friends are Malays and mostly devout fellas. Since I moved to Hicksville, I have never been out for a booze, since I don't know anybody who boozes here, nor do I know the good pubs. But leading a project for 20 odd days straight can be stressful, so the other day, on a particularly long day at work, I decided to get some whisky.
I didn't know where to go, so I headed to the first logical place - the biggest hotel in the city. I heard from some contractors that the hotel had a pretty nifty bar since it was quite a popular tourist spot and since the expatriate community headed there a lot. It didn't matter that it was a Wednesday night and it didn't matter that it was only 9 pm.
By Malaysian standards, 9 pm is early, which never really made sense to me. In the UK, people used to go out boozing as early as after dinner (I have seen people stone drunk at 7.30pm) and then get home around 10 or 11pm just in time for bed so that they can wake up for work the next day. Over here, if you told people you were going clubbing at 9 pm, they would call you crazy. Maybe you clubbing folks can humour me why the need to start at 11 and finish at 3?
Anyway, the bar was pretty empty when I walked in so I headed for the bar-top, took a seat and ordered my drink.
Double shot of Jamesons on the rocks.
The bartender was pretty good. Not too much ice that diluted the whisky and not too little that it was still warm. There was a live band playing in the background. They were kids, not a day over 20, but they were pretty darn good. And so I sat there, enjoying my drink, thinking about this adventure of mine.
It's an adventure because I think it freeing to have the cojones to waltz into a bar alone, sitting there alone with your drink like a depressed alcoholic would and not giving a shit what all the insecure people think about you. I figured, when I found my hangout joint, I would waltz in one busy Friday night, order a bottle of what-ever, plonk it on my table and start drinking. The theory is, when you do that, people will come over just to talk to you.
But that was the plan for another day...
Next: The Dodgiest Bar, Ever