As I write, I’m sitting on a train, hurtling through Western Siberia, with the outside world all painted white with snow. I’m tempted to regale you all with tales of the last 24 hours, surrounded by Russian men and the smell of B.O and cigarette smoke but I would be missing a huge chunk of this trip. So back to Hong Kong we go.
Hong Kong, for anyone who hasn’t been, is bloody paradise. This statement may or may not be influenced by the fact that I landed there after 5 weeks in India. Nevertheless, when we got there, I was almost tempted to kiss the beautiful, gleaming, flushing toilets in the airport. You ever see those tacky tourist shirts saying ‘I heart HK’? Look, I was tempted to buy a shirt, a hat, a badge, a pair of velour track pants if need be.
Dave’s primary reason for us to go to Hong Kong was to obtain our Chinese visas. Well, bugger the visas, I was there for Disneyland. I had heard all kinds of negativity about Hong Kong Disneyland- to sum up, everyone’s opinion was that it was a little bit shit. Lies, I tell you, absolute lies. We were there for over 8 hours and I still didn’t have enough time to go to Tarzan’s tree house. Look, lining up for 30 minutes to sit in an auto-piloted toy car to pull at a steering wheel pretending like you’re driving might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I bloody loved it. My only criticism was that a few more Mickey’s wouldn’t go astray. Every time we tried to go get a photo with our lovable mouse friend, sure enough, he’d run off for a smoke or a pee or whatever tawdry things Mickey does when the mask comes off. Toy Story Land is absolutely amaze-balls. I mean, who wouldn’t love a place where the toilet sign is spelt out in Scrabble letters? Only a person with a heart of stone (Dave).
|Excited about a potential vomit-inducing ride on the teacups|
|If you don't like Toy Story Land, you probs don't have a soul|
|Toy Story Toilets|
|Totally satisfied by my day of Disney dreams|
Our day of Disney fun over, we decided to try out a bit of Hong Kong night life. The previous night, we’d kept it classy by going to the highest bar in the world, Ozone, and ordering a drink for approximately one million dollars. With enough sophistication under our belts, we decided to get back to what we do best- street drinking. We hit the streets of Lan Kwai Fong and rather than join the hip and beautiful in the clubs, we purchased ourselves some beers off a very angry street stall lady and settled on a stoop to watch her have an argument with her downtrodden husband. Music was pouring out of the bars and soon, with help of a few more beers, we were having ourselves a grand ‘ol time.
|Gosh, just being really classy and refined.....|
|....wait, nope, it's bogan business as usual.|
|Keeping it casual on the streets of Lang Kwai Fong|
The ultimate problem with street drinking is what does one do when their poor bladder has had all the liquid it can take? I mean, this isn’t bloody India, you can’t just pop a squat in an alley. This is Hong Kong, people. Dave and I had taken up residence outside a happening bar and kept sneaking in there to use the facilities. On about my third trip in there, that’s when THE INCIDENT occurred. Call it my first brush with Russia, if you will. After the incident took place, I actually made a video detailing what had taken place but let’s just say, I may not have had the clearest of heads during the taping. It’s my blog and whilst I don’t believe in censoring myself, I have a mother too and she’s a saint so I’ll spare her the sight of a blathering, belligerent child.
Written word, however, is another story. Below, transcribed word for word is what I like to call
THE LAN KWAI FONG LAVATORY STAND-OFF
(A toilet terror incident through the eyes of an overly excitable ex-drama student)
The streets of Hong Kong. Lionel Ritchie plays in the background. The camera pans from a close up of some empty bottles to a bogan looking girl in a flowery blouse and jeggings. Yes, that’s right, I said jeggings. They’re basically Spanx that you’re allowed to wear outside. Don’t judge.
BOGAN LOOKING GIRL: I am VERY angry and I want to everyone why right now.
Some (insert word that rhymes with mut) I’m sorry Mum, that’s a rude word, some (oh dear, there’s that word again) just ruined my night, alright.
I was waiting very patiently for the toilet, alright, and some Russian chick was in front and she decided she wanted to have a DANCE!
Alright, go have a dance- you CAN’T get back in the toilet queue.
And then she tried to get back in the toilet queue and me and this lovely English lady let her back in and then she wants to get her three friends for behind in and we said no and do you know what she did?
She str-uuck me. With her hands, there was a mark, on my arm. And then, she said to me, DON’T TOUCH ME. I was like, you just frickin’ hit me.
No, but do you know what, she got into the toilet and she was taking a very long time and there was actually a moment where halfway through her time, she opened up the door and was like WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH to me and the English chick and we were like, oh that’s a bit strange.
Do you know what this (insert word that might rhyme with witch) did?
While we were waiting, she got the bin beside the toilet and emptied the WHOLE thing into the toilet to block it. So me and the lovely English lady could not pee. WHO DOES THAT!
I’m very angry and I’m looking for this chick cos
I’ll fight her.
I will fight her.
End the camera Dave, I will fight her.
Obviously, any person reading would think, ‘Wow, what an insightful and thoughtful response to that situation.’ Let’s be honest, combined with the fact that Dave and I were drinking on the street to start with and that there rant-well, it’s about as bogan as you can get.
I don’t want you to get the wrong impression here. I don’t normally go round trying to pick fights with our former Soviet friends or anyone in general. Let’s just say, I may have had the help of a few bottles of Dutch courage. Furthermore, that wasn’t the only video shot that night. There’s also a video of Dave and myself doing a horrible rendition of Lionel Ritchie’s All Night Long, which is being censored for different reasons-vanity.
So, lessons learned in Hong Kong?
DO visit Disneyland. I guarantee that even childless, you’re bound to have a day of good, clean fun.
DON’T pick fights with Russian ladies unless you want your toilet privileges revoked or the possible loss of your front teeth. I’m pretty sure that the mark on my arm was just a starting point.
P.S Something good came out of this night of ridiculousness. I came up with my potential album cover should I ever feel the need to release a cover album of the hits of Britney Spears (yes, that would be my artist of choice.) Potential title?
Mel B: You want a piece of me?