Holiday Weekend

4-day weekend in the Big City. The lead up to Friday, full of decicions. Manila, Angeles, BKK, Saigon....

Sharky Bar:
Popped in for one. Not much happening. Publisher and the boys back from Pattaya - made a dirty town dirtier. Zeroed in on LegSister1. I dig her. Laid a big bottle of Angkor on her ($3.50, I think) and settled in for a night of people watching. Quiet. All the freaks gone for the holiday?

As if on cue - AssholeO'theNight at the end of the bar declared, "I ain't payin' this shit!" After some deliberation with the the staff, the cops came up from downstairs to tell him he was. He did. And then, predictably, AssholeO'theNight declared he wasn't going to leave. Cops told he was. (With assistance) he did. Hmm...right on time, TweakerBrit* got his laundry-list tab.

He looked at the waitress, looked at the tab, looked into his wallet and with a big grin told her, "I forgot to bring money with me...again." And, as is his custom, promised to come back tomorrow and pay it. Sometimes he does. Gotta give him that. But sometimes he doesn't. They snapped a photo and posted it at the cop booth downstairs. Next time he shows up, search his pockets - look for money. If he has some, let him in.

Turned away from that minor drama to see what LegSister1 was up to. She was sitting on AnnoyingProf's knee. Damn. I dig her...Of all the annoying fucks in this town....Shouldn't think this way....it's wrong - but it'll be awhile before I can go there again without seeing his face. What can I say? I'm very imperfect. A shortcoming I'm willing to accept. Time to deal with the loss.

Martini:
Dude behind the bar hit me up with a triple shot of Vodka. Let the healing begin. (That's worth a $1 tip.) Decent crowd. Dredge and Khmerican at the bar shootin' the shit. Nothing memorable - if I had to guess, maybe something about USC and UCLA... (and for the record, fuck USC - "Only Good Trojan is a Used Trojan.")

To the disco.

Dark. Good ratio. The dj saw me. Green light to start playing the Khmer dance stuff. (If a barang requests it, management won't get pissed off.) Festive music and another vodka and then another. Starting to get LIT. Some dude from outta nowhere grabbed my shoulders and slurred something in my face. Told him, "I'm not Phil."("..get the fuck away from me", implied.) Mortified by his own behavior - he bought me a drink. Nice. A Gentleman. Maori and BaldDan** danced in the door, hit the dance floor, scared away the women and danced back out. Well done. But a good show and, danger gone, the chicks returned.

Bought SuperCute a Baileys and went to schooze with the dj. Dredge laid some old-school disco/funk on him. He graciously agreed to play it. "No Parkin'on the Dance Floor."Disco clear anyway. SuperCute flashing her smile around. Zeroed in on her friend who was busy closing a deal with a bombed Aussie at the bar. She digs a party. So did he. But her friend - not so much. That settled, we boogied to Zepplin.

Zepplin Bar:
Full of French. But so what. Another couple vodkas. Jun put on some Johnny Winter, and we sat outside to watch the scene. Nothing much going on. If anything worthwhile happened, I can't remember it. Laid $4 on SuperCute, and she went off to get some food down on 51. Waited 20 mins - but maybe it was only 10 - maybe only 5... Whatever, bombed. 12 drinks in me and I couldn't get down if my life depended on it. (Well, maybe if my life depended on it.) Time to go home. Pass out. Besides SuperCute not in sleeping mode.

And tomorrow will be another day.

* He's also told me he's Irish. Also told me he'd lived in NYC for 2 years. Next night told me he'd never been to NYC.
**I need to find a better name for him...