Last Friday evening was one of the craziest nights for me as far back as I can remember. I mean it has been a long time since I stayed up partying till dawn approaches. First I was invited by the manager on project to join them for some update and get-together event. We arrived somewhat late after 6pm at a pub near Mohamad Sultan Road and things started to degrade rather quickly, as the wine started flowing. It was not so bad actually as I managed to stop at a glass and a half of red wine, and went off with a friend and another consultant for some good ‘ol Burger King.
My friend and I wanted to continue with some business discussions we have been throwing up, so we proceeded to his office at around 10:30pm. After some tea, a couple of smoke breaks for him, and in-depth discussions, we decided to call it a night. However, the night refused to let us go as he started getting calls from his colleagues. He was being summoned to join them at several places, one of which was at Boat Quay – one of the famous watering holes in Singapore, the other was a disco in Orchard called Bar None – apparently quite popular among the expats and hip ones.
Ok, he decided to make a quick visited, “just to say Hi”, and I followed him, since he was giving me a ride back home. Bad idea, as my friend stepped into one of the pubs situated at the corner of the stretch. I believe it is catered specially for the Indian community in Singapore and the bar was filled with the finer aspects of the Indian culture – the music and the women. While finding myself in a strange situation, because it is the first time I had stepped into a place where I felt like a foreigner intruding upon the locals, I was equally intrigued by the experience. I shook hands with some guys, whom my friend apparently knew, and stepped out quickly because the person we were looking for was in another pub – or so we were told. We adjourned to the other place where we were made to stay, “just for one song”, and I downed a glass of coke with rum. We just sat there and watched while the people danced on the dance floor. They all looked quite engrossed and happy doing their stuff. Believe it or not, I actually enjoyed it. That was already around 2am in the morning.
Next up, we proceeded to Bar None and rendezvous with the other party. While on the trip there, I told my friend that if we stepped in there, we might not have the chance to leave as plan. As we were about to find out over the next few hours, I was right. The two guys we met inside already had a small party going on. There were a couple of very attractive ladies among the group, but the signs were obvious once we got the initial introductions out of the way – the ladies have been spoken for. That left me with the uphill task of finding new preys in less than 2 hours before the disco called it a night, and I was not up to the challenge. I just danced to the rythm, tried to escape out of pouring too much alcohol into my body and basically oogled at the young girls around me.
Shortly after 4am, the party was over and everyone starting making them way out. It was then that someone suggested going for Shisha at Arab Street – one of their favourite haunts and activities apart from intoxicating and shagging their brains out. We arrived at Arab Street and were told we had about 45 minutes before the shop closed. The Shisha came in interestingly long pipes with water at the base. There was charcoal on top of the pipe and I suppose that was what offered the smoke. I took my first ever puff of Shisha and decided it didn’t taste at all like cigarettes nor cigars and continued puffing a few more. The time was after 6am on Saturday morning, as I crawled into bed without showering and told myself that I am getting too old for this lifestyle and I should not try it again.
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