My Hell Week Between China and Costa Rica (2/4)
April 17, 2008 – 7:48 pmWhereas most of my American friends and I had our return flights that Saturday, most of my European friends had their return flights that Thursday, meaning Wednesday night would be our last chance to hang out together. I couldn’t say no.
Now here’s the American group with our program assistant. This was taken in Beijing, inside the courtyard of the former residence of some Chinese official who lived hundreds of years ago. Sorry, I forget the name of the place.
Wednesday night started with dinner and didn’t end until we had gone through three nightclubs and finally found one that all the girls liked. Somewhere in between the guys and girls managed to lose each other. No one had anyone’s cell phone number. It took us a while to find each other on the night streets of Shanghai.
We didn’t get home that late that night. Maybe around 3 or 4 AM. Then we had our exams the next day. Those went very well.
The rest of Thursday was spent with me saying my goodbyes to my European friends and figuring out with my American friends what we were going to do that night. As expected, we went to Pegasus. We would always go to Pegasus. I never did understand why that club was so popular with us and so many other foreigners, but it was familiar by then, and I think even the most hardcore traveler yearns for the familiar eventually.
Once again, Thursday night started with dinner. Two of the guys each brought a water bottle filled with something that looked like water but wasn’t. By the time we got to Pegasus to meet up with everyone else, I was horribly behind if you know what I mean. Everyone else already had a pretty good buzz whereas I was terribly sober. This was one of those times when I bowed down to peer pressure. I don’t recommend it. To this day, I still don’t touch rum and coke. Never before nor since have I gotten so plastered.
After maybe my eighth or ninth rum and coke, my roommate and his brother decided they needed to take me home. The following tidbits I barely remember. Others helped me fill in the gaps. Supposedly, as my roommate and his brother carried me out of the club with my arms over their shoulders, I was knocking over chairs and bottles with my feet. I might’ve even tried to talk to random people. They neglected to tell me in which language. When we got to the taxi, I was silly enough to reach for the handle to open the door myself. That didn’t work out. My roommate had to do it for me.
This is one part I seriously don’t remember. Apparently, I was so drunk and also deprived of oxygen that I rolled down the window all the way and stuck my head out to breathe like a dog with its tongue out the entire taxi ride. That’s the explanation they gave me. I personally think they just didn’t want me to hurl all over them, which is understandable. Maybe it was both.
When we got back to our dorms, somehow I managed to climb over the gate as we usually did. I forget how much they needed to help me with that. Another amazing part was that I didn’t need to take the elevator and instead just trotted up the stairs. Of course, my room was only on the second floor, so it was no big deal.
The big deal came briefly afterward, directly from my mouth and into the squatting toilet. You have to understand that unlike Western toilets, squatting toilets offer you nothing to grab onto while you hurl except the floor itself. If my roommate hadn’t been holding me steady, I might’ve fallen in. He gave me some pretty good advice to let it all out too.
After recovering from my extensive vomiting session, I limped my way back to my room and passed out.
The next day when I woke up, I wasn’t hungover. Wait, let me finish. I was merely still drunk.
