Friday
Seven Stars
Ritual Union
Ritual union has got me in trouble again
I was wonderin’ of a white dress
And a mistress
And her spirit – holding my hand!
Breakfast, Oh fuck yeah I think so. After a night on the turps a cook-up breakfast always does the trick, scrambled eggs, fake bacon, wedges, chicken sausages and a butter croissant.
I sit down next to Lively, “Hey sugar”, Lively smiles while picking fake bacon out of his teeth, “Mornin’” and then whispered under his breath, “fucken faggot”.
A waiter breezes by with a pot of coffee and asks me do I want, “Coffee or Tea Sir?”, I smile appreciatively and say, “Coffee thanks” moving my cup like a Chess piece across the table.
I take a sip on my coffee and begin with, “So..” watching Lively raise an eyebrow, “Yesss?” he asks.
I say, “Seen Jeffsicles this morning?”, and he says, “I called him before I came down he sounded like he was sick or something”. And it’s not surprising given his pale complexion during the cigar smoking last night, “Poor Jeff”. Lively smiles at my slight sarcasm, though it’s far too early to tell if I actually am being sarcastic or not.
We see Joggy and Soly arrive and are seated a few tables behind us, we wave good morning and their smiles are bright in return. I turn my attention back to the black coffee, the flavour has been working away at the dry lump in the back of my throat, so that when I swallow there’s this bite expression, this catches Lively’s attention, “You pull up okay?” and I look up at Live with a coy smile. I tell Lively that there was a slight buzz in the back of my head when I woke, a constricted throat that was obviously related to the cigars, a bit of a dry cough but I was ok for the most part, no need to self medicate, not necessarily a bad thing and thankfully the nausea has all but gone.
I finish up my coffee and walk over to Joggy and Soly’s table, “Good Morning Sir, Madam” and Joggy is cheery, “Mr B. How the fuck are ya mate?”. My smile widens, “Can’t complain so far” and Joggy nods his head, “good, good” then takes a sip of his juice and asks, “And Mr. Jeff?”. I go to answer Joggy “He’s....” only to be cut off by Lively who chimes in, “He sounds fucken shithouse dude” followed by a cartoon super villains nasty laugh that goes ‘heh heh heh’. “Really!” exclaims Joggy.
“I’ll check up on him, I’m on my way back to my room”, I tell him, then check with Joggy and Lively, “Meet you guys down here at 10:30? ” and Joggy confirms our plans, “Museums today right?”, and then Lively says, “Islamic Arts museum yeah?” his question tinged with curiosity. The coffee perk kicks in and I’m chipper in my response, “Yeah it’s supposed to be good” followed by, “Trust me”
In my room I squat thrust and decide to take another shower for no particular reason except that my body is feeling a little sore from the massage yesterday and the coffee has left me feeling a little jittery. Before I climb into the shower I pop a Valium. The Valium loosens up the muscles and slows down my heart rate, I feel good, relaxed and the hot water soaks my skin and leaves my body feeling good, the usual pain I expect from yesterdays massage seems to disappear and sore muscles are fired up and kept warm with the heat of the shower.
I climb out of the shower towelling myself off walking to the side of the bed, dripping water.
I call Jeff on the room to room number, “Heeey baby!” I say all too keen. Jeff’s response is like the living dead. “You okay man?” and Jeff explains that he’s feeling a bit crap, he says he had a bit of problem with Asthma last nite. “So...You keen for the museum dude” and Jeff is direct and to the point, “Nah fuck that shit” and yawns, “Call me when you get back okay?” and before hanging up I smile, doting on Jeff as a mother would and say. “O-kay”
* * *
When I come downstairs I find the gang has assembled downstairs at our usual place.
I tell Joggy, Lively and Soly that Jeff won't be joining us. Joggy tells me that he checked up on him too and he said he looked like death. Kym and Nathe are here as well, packed and ready to go on to Singapore, their luggage in tow.
There's not a whole lot for me to say as I know I’ll be seeing Nathe again next week at work, but the others are more sentimental, Joggy and Soly telling Nathan how much they enjoyed his company, wishing that he could have spent more time with us. While Lively is saying goodbye to Kym and I tell her how great it was that we met. There is more that I wish I could have said, like for instance how cool she was about hanging out with people she didn't know. The math of that situation is = internet friends of Nathan's work colleague (Me) and Kym being really easy to get along with. If not for her planning our night out on the town, discovering the backstreets might not have been so much fun.
I hug Nathan tight and then move hands to inappropriate bad touch areas, he recoils slightly, I like a challenge, I give him a few mock thrusts to the groin and release him from our embrace.
He asks, "Could have bought me a drink first?" and this is classic banter, our usual routine, a careful mix of homophobia, laced with sarcasm and sexual innuendo. "I'd destroy you so bad your outty would become an inny", Nathan blushes while Kym watches on unsure and of course doesn't get it.
We say goodbye to Nathe and Kym and as they leave Lively, Soly, Joggy and I bundle into a taxi and head out towards the museum. We're not in the taxi for a long time but there's enough cool scenery to look at to make it an interesting ride. We pass the butterfly and bird park and the driver tells us that it's worth seeing. But when we pull up to the curb of the Islamic Arts Museum, we’re all impressed at the size of it, Joggy says playfully, “It's one hellva nice building”. We go inside and pay our entrance money and then are told in a firm but polite tone of voice before we proceed any further please know that we are not to use our cameras inside.
* * *
Now I don’t wish to ruin this museum experience for anyone else, so if my details from this point onwards appear to be somewhat brief, please understand this is a museum built around the national religion of Malaysia I wish to maintain respect for what is on display and as such I will only go into some of the main highlights which I enjoyed.
* * *
We wander into the museum like curious children and find the first floor lit by natural light, white tiles and wide open spaces. The museum itself is elegant, pristine and presented in a manner that offers people of Islamic or Non-Islamic faith an opportunity to learn more about the history of Islam and explains how the Islamic religion was introduced to the people of Malaysia.
We see various scale models of some famous mosques built at various times in historical timeline of Islam. Each model is supported by a card written in English text and Arabic which describes when this particular mosque was built and how long it stood for.
We pass by wall displays that shape the entire history of Islam, from its humble roots where the prophet Mohamed landed in Mecca on to how the faith was spread to all parts of Asia.
Going up a level we see ornate suits of armour that were worn by warriors during various holy campaigns, I don’t recall if any of these are related to the Crusades but what I do remember is the artistic nature to all things worn, the way the armour or swords are decorated, and later the way the gold plating on flintlock rifles and hand pistols are adorned with scripture and artistic design.
Needless to say it’s beautiful, the one thing I enjoyed the most were these rugs that had been hand woven with such intricate detail I became lost in the overall design. There were tapestries and even quilt covers that came from different royal families, silk wall hangings in with embroided Arabic lettering, gowns and clothing worn by Islamic peoples at different times and places.
As we were leaving there was a special side exhibition on Islam in Australia, we were able to learn how Islam reached Australia in our early colonial era, mostly due to camel drivers who brought their faith with them. When we were done exploring the museum I think we all came out with a deeper appreciation and understanding of Muslim people worldwide and I personally admire them for their courage to defend their faith in this crazy mixed up world.
* * *
We come out of the Islamic Arts museum and it's close to lunchtime mass for Muslims, we walk down towards the national mosque and it's like the hottest ticket in town, scooters line the sidewalks, people are milling around in groups, people are warm and friendly with one another.
We try not to stare but sometimes this can’t be helped, it’s so different to anything I’ve seen before. We walk around the national mosque careful not to annoy anyone attending mass. We reach the safety of a corner and we speak to a police officer who is of Indian descent and speaks perfect English about what’s going on here. He tells us, “This is midday mass for the Muslims”, he goes on to say, “If you’re Muslim and you live close by, this is the mosque you should be at”. I wonder on the intent of some of his words, their underlying meaning that is lost in translation. The way he refers to Muslims was like he meant a completely different race or species, and that this is the mosque you have to be at, like it’s a popular nightclub to be seen at. The guy is really nice overall, stern, straight faced, and is nice to us. I think to myself that the police must see heaps of tourists, like us, with their questions, cameras, gawking as though we’re visiting a Zoo. But this police officer takes it all in his stride, he even helps us get a taxi, one big enough for us all, he blows his whistle and directs a cab to stop in an area zoned off for police motor cycles, I go to give him a few reams of ringgit off my money clip but he just shakes his head and hand, smiles ever so briefly and says, “No thankyou Sir, not necessary”, I look him in the eye and says, “Thank you” and he nods his head and says, “You’re welcome” and closes the taxi door behind me.
I hear the police officer blow his whistle directing the next lot of traffic away from our taxi leaving the curb, I see him through the back window, his hat on, his shiny silver buttons and badge twinkling in the sunlight, his blue uniform all crisp and clean, formal, the way police uniforms used to be in Australia before the modernising of the uniform. Then the moment is interrupted by the taxi driver, “Hotel Istana Yes?” and Joggy who is sitting in the back seat with Lively and Soly says, “Yeah mate”. Our driver enquires, “Where were you just now?” and we tell him the Islamic Arts Museum and then tell him that we walked down to the mosque hoping to get a taxi. He tells us, “Oh you were lucky, Friday 1pm, big for all the Muslims, all coming here to pray, taxis can’t get through”. And I listen to the way he says ‘Muslims’ and I start to get it, on the surface you might make the mistake of thinking that they are a tribe apart. But here in this country they are embedded into the society of the day, not separated, not necessarily the back bone either, but recognised as...well maybe accepted as who they are, believers in God, righteous people.
It takes some time to make it back to the hotel, the traffic around the national mosque is the reason but I don’t care, I’d rather take a cab than walking or mucking around with public transport.
Sitting the empty lounge bar even the mood to drink is absent, the weather changes and the desire to go out for lunch fades very quickly, we are lazy, though it is barely midday. We decide that we'll try the international buffet for lunch and make the most out of it. While this day is meant to be joyus, it feels tired and laboured. From a downstairs phone I call Jeff and see how he is, I ask him does he want to join us for lunch and he says “No” and for me to check on him later this afternoon.
Lunch itself is a sombre affair, there's not a lot of talking and there's the consensus that we should have done more stuff this morning besides the museum, I mean, if you only have to visit one museum the Islamic Arts Museum is it, otherwise we should have back tracked up the road and done the butterfly park or bird sanctuary, but we didn't and it's beginning to look like boredom has set in.
When we’re done with lunch we head upstairs to check emails from home, upon arrival in the Club Lounge we sit and wait for the PC’s to be free as they are currently occupied. We sit on the large three seater couch and watch BBC World and see the highlights of the day. Sitting over by the window is a curious older man dressed in traditional Muslim clothing. Lively says, “Isn’t that the guy we met in the elevator the other night” and I recall the brief encounter, unsure if I was polite or not.
I suddenly have the notion to approach the guy and to say hello, I walk up to him and greet him with the Muslim greeting for hello, and he responds in kind completing the salutation. I introduce myself, reminding him of how we met earlier in the week, he remembers us as ‘the Australians’ and asks me to sit. I don’t sit down right away and tell I just wanted to wish him well on the account he was a holy man and I always make it a point to pay respect to my elders. He blushes a little and then is confused by my choice of words, “Holy man?” he asks me. And then I remind him of something he said in the elevator, I had asked him how his day had been and his response was, ‘a holy man’s work is never done’. He laughs at this and then gestures for me to sit in the empty seat next to him. I take a seat in the wing back burgundy chesterfield and settle in for what I assume will be a lecture on proper greeting etiquette to a holy man, but what he says next isn’t what I expect.
He goes on to tell me that there is no such thing as a holy man in Islam and that he is not a cleric as such or a teacher, he tells me that he is here on business and that the spirit of Islam is inside everyone who gives themselves to Allah. His description of how the faith makes everyone holy is honest and touching. He asks me what I know of Allah and I tell him that I learned much of Islam in my visit to the Islamic Arts Museum, but his questions probe further, he asks about my spirituality and as I do not wish to offend him I simply say that I believe in God and I make it a point to say aloud, “I’m a believer” and this statement pleases him. I tell him that I have many Muslim friends and I have celebrated Ramadan with my Muslim friends and worshipped side by side. He suspects my Christianity but says nothing to directly challenge that. Instead he says that I am unlike any other Christian he has met before, a person who greets a Muslim as a friend without malice or hate in his heart, I tell him I know where our paths diverge, he reminds me of the Islamic recognition of his lord Jesus Christ and I remind him of how both of the sons returned to bury the father.
The conversation turns by accident to current world politics and he is frustrated with the false Christian - George W Bush. For this I cannot argue, I fear America, imperialistic America, Babylon, controlled by powers unseen who give sympathy to the devil and act out in his name. He reminds me that it is not necessarily the everyday people and that the population themselves are conditioned, tricked by evil. He suggests that if they give themselves to Allah, or God as he puts it for my benefit, they will be saved, and again I cannot argue though in my heart I only wish for their coming to God is through the Son, his Lord Jesus Christ and no other way.
It is a deep and memorable conversation and he is pleased that I came over and paid my respect to my elders even if I did misinterpret his comment as, ‘a holy man’s work is never done’. We wish each other well and I go back to the others who have been sitting on the couch, hanging off every word.
Joggy’s face says it all, he whispers “What the fuck was that Mr.B?” and I tell him, “It was a good thing” and he agrees, so does Lively and Soly, both recognising the sincerity and kindness of paying respect to people of different cultures and the need to show humility as a foreigner abroad.
Though to be honest, I hold back my true reasons from the gang as they have not the religious motivation or understanding as to why I sat down with the Muslim man. While it was not clear in my mind why I greeted him, I know now that when the lord gives us a nudge we need to act with kindness, my role, my part in this life story may only have been to witness to him and show him a different view of Christians in the modern world, we are compassionate, we are not all false.
A few minutes pass and one of the PC’s is free for use, Joggy and Lively tell me to go ahead and use it first and I do, signing into Gmail and sit down to write home to my sister Kelly who has picked up from my last email sent the day before.
She writes:
Bummer dude.
Sucks when you get sick overseas.
You feel very vulnerable all of a sudden.
Hope u are feeling better now ….
Sounds like the shopping is a bit slow off the mark?
And I can’t argue with her last remark. I write back;
Yeah, the shopping has been a bit off
Today we went to the Islamic arts museum this morning and that was cool
then came back the hotel for a drink and then a spot of lunch
had the buffet for lunch today because it was bucketing down
we had all wanted to go to sungei wang to try out the tepanyaki bar
that you mentioned. or deli france.
instead i 've got my stomach in order.
heading out to 1utama to look at RL polo and also tamiya
looking for a few things tomorrow as it will be my last chance.
i gotta go, only got a couple of hours left to do this.
love ,
bb
With only a few hours left in the afternoon I tell Soly and Joggy I’m going to head over to 1Utama by taxi and check it out, I ask Joggy, “So what you gonna do?” and he says something about heading over to Sungei Wang with Soly and visiting every inch of floor space, hoping to find something he likes. I ask Lively what he’s doing and would he like to come along to 1Utama and Lively says he’ll come with me for the company but not necessarily the shopping and we head downstairs and catch a taxi from the front of the hotel.
Our trip out to 1Utama is a blur, it’s a freeway trip that’s fast and furious, peak hour traffic hasn’t begun to show it’s fangs but I know it will be awful on the ride back. On the ride by taxi I clock watch with utter concern, there’s a sick sense of desperation at work here, this idea to do it all before the sun goes down. But in no too long we’re rounding the block at 1Utama and Lively is impressed as I hear him say “Wow, it’s big” and it is, this shopping mall goes under and over the road.
But before getting out of the cab we strike up a deal with the driver and tell him to pick us up back here at the taxi rank in one hour. He gives us his phone number and we race from the car to the boutique level entrance. I say to Lively, “This is it!” and he says “Wow” rather sarcastically.
We wander around the mall doing a short circuit just window shopping, taking it all in. We pass a Cold Storage supermarket and heaps of other novelty stores but Lively with one eye on the time says, “We better do what we came here for before we go out to dinner”, reluctantly I agree, he asks, “What was it that you had to buy for tonite?” I tell Lively that I need jocks and socks first and that we should go over to Parksons.
We go to Parksons and it’s here that I finally find my shoes. While walking around the men’s shoe section I find a wall display of Sebago’s, “Sebago’s!” I shout at Lively, but he doesn’t get it. Sebago’s were huge in the late 80’s and even the 90’s, they’re from the hey days of the British casual / hooligan look to which all my style is based upon. Burnt out ravers in Timberlands and Sebago deck shoes hitting the club scene is what I recall, little Donna introducing me to all of the Brit girls from the North around Whitfords. Buys in their Timberlands and deck shoes, girls in their Kickers.
I snap out of my memory flash back and scan the wall display of Sebago shoes until I find a pair of moccasins that are the business, they look loaferish and almost like boat shoes but come in a nice rich brown with leather laces. I decide immediately that these are the shoes for me, then I look at the price and to my surprise they’re marked down. I go to the cash register ching ching and Lively catches my smile, “Happy now?” and it’s so very obvious, I’m positively beaming.
While we’re at Parksons Lively looks at men’s aftershaves and I look at Carolina Herrera’s 212 V.I.P scent but just can’t get over how over the top it smells, I say to Lively, “This is like Paco Raban’s scent One Million” and he screws up his nose as if to say, do not want. Here I also look at Gucci’s Guilty for Men but again I don’t buy it. I figure that since I have bought two scents already on this trip that it’s not necessary that I buy a third scent. On my way out of Parksons I pick up a pair of Byfords and a pair of socks by Paul Frank, just a single pair and then we head back the way we came in the direction of the boutique stores. Before we head back to the boutique stores we make a stopover at the Tamiya Store on the underground car park level and realise very quickly that it’s not as good as it was last year, I certainly toy with the idea of buying up loads of 1:48 scale kits but for some reason I don’t bother. I end up buying a tank kit but leave it at just the one kit. I’m trying my best to show this place off to Lively and as hard as I might, something about it just doesn’t seem to hold the sensation of having visited last year. Lively asks, “Where now?” and I tell him we’ll head back towards the boutique stores and that once we get there I’ll call our driver to pick us up.
Here at the boutique stores I go in and out of Lacoste and Brooks Brothers in a matter of two seconds, I try on a polo top at Tommy Hilfiger but it’s a slim fit and feels too tight. I go into Ralph Lauren and all the stuff in here is too small, the long sleeve shirt I try on is snug and they have some mesh polos but only in same colours I bought from The Pavilion earlier in the week. I come out of Ralph Lauren so pissed off as last year it held so many cool finds like the Eisenhower sports jacket, the golfing polo top and different coloured mesh polo’s with a different coloured polo riders. I call our taxi driver and he says he’ll be at the entrance in ten minutes and while we wait on a whim I decide to go into British India hoping to find a men’s long sleeve shirt but instead come across a shelf lined with men’s polo’s in various sizes and colours. I try on a black polo with a purple embroided elephant logo, it’s a 3XL and I have heaps of stomach room in this and decide it’s the business and buy it straight away. I look at shirts on my way to the cash register and decide that even while 1Utama hasn’t been all bad for shopping treats it’s still not as I remembered it being the year before.
Our driver collects us from the taxi rank and speeds through to the freeway hoping to beat the traffic. He swears and toots his horn in tandem, “Can you believe this shit man” he says, I sense his obvious frustration but the accent is too fucken hilarious for me to take him seriously. While we’re dropping coins at a toll booth on the freeway Lively looks back at me from the front passengers wing mirror with a devilish grin, the smirk on my face reads – “I get it Lively”, as I am beaming trying to hold back the laughter at watching our driver lose his shit. The thrifty fellow inside my head might say it cost us money being caught in traffic like that but then again what price do you put on laughter.
In a while our driver lightens up and he is actually a really awesome guy, before arriving back at the hotel we work out a deal together for him to pick me up for the airport in a few days time.
The front valet opens the door to the premier taxi for us and as I come out with my arm load of bags, he says, “Oh such a good amount of shopping Sir” and while I know he’s trolling to the fullest I can’t help but laugh to myself at the effort.
After putting all my shit away back in my room, I take a quick shower and then call Joggy and ask him what’s the plans for tonite. He says let’s meet upstairs and in no time I’m sitting in the Club lounge bar with Lively, Joggy and Soly, but no Jeff. I ask Joggy about Jeff and he says, “He’ll join us later”.
While we’re enjoying our last sundowners ever! I go to a public computer and bang out another email home to my sister Kelly.
Hmmm, shame bout the shopping.
Hopefully you get to blow some serious cash in your last day :)
I am heartened to see you did a wee bit of touristy stuff
I’m sure mum will be pleased ... ha ha
xx
I write back with a cheesy smirk on my face, I CC Dad into the conversation so he gets an update of what I’ve been up to.
hey guys,
I went shopping at 1utama and it was so so
I bought a pair of Sebago boat shoes from Parksons, plus a couple of pairs of socks, also from Parksons. Then I bought a polo top in my size from British India
I window shopped at Brooks Bros, Ralph Lauren, Lacoste and a few other stores.
I went to the Tamiya store and it had a lot of kits I liked but I didn’t go nuts as I had planned to.
In the end I only bought one kit, but easily would have bought more
I’m hoping that tonite is gonna be good
Jeff is sick, says his tonsils are playing up.
I am thinking that we might eat at Sahara Tent which you’ve been telling me about.
Yes Saturday will be my last day of fun but hopefully we'll find some cool stuff too.
ttyl
When i’m done with emails Joggy asks me about where I’d like to eat tonite, we had talked about a revolving restaurant earlier on in the week but somehow that feels like too much effort, plus I’d have to change my clothes again. Then he mentions the Iraqi food place we’ve been passing every day on our way to HSBC and I say, “Hells yeah”.
Though to be honest I’m keen for more than one reason, my sister Kelly has told me about the restaurant more than once, she says, “Oh you have to go to the Sahara tent, it’s awesome” telling me that they had passed it for years before actually deciding to try it and when they did they had been telling me about it ever since. I mean the first time visiting KL I had wanted to go here but Jeff wasn’t that adventurous and I guess he still isn’t, so last trip to KL we didn’t go, but this time is different. “So it’s settled then?” asks Joggy, “the Sahara Tent it is” and the gang agrees.
We walk out of the hotel and round the corner and in a heartbeat we’re at the restaurant, Joggy goes up to the manager and says that he’s organised a table with the owner earlier in the day, the manager is confused as all hell, he goes and has his cashier check the reservations list and there’s nothing, he tells us to wait a sec and then I look at Joggy who is pissed off royally. He tells me, “This is bullshit, when Soly and I went to Sungei Wang we worked all this out with the owner” and then the manager comes back, he says something to a waiter and then has us all seated a table for four.
Our waiter disappears to get us some menu’s and Joggy is seething, “Another five fuckin seconds of that shit and we were leaving” and I can tell right away that he means it. But then something else strikes me as important, I realise that Joggy has gone to all this trouble to organise this dinner for me tonite, he doesn’t want to be embarrassed by a misunderstanding between an owner and a manager, nor does he want any complication. I can tell he cares about the significance of tonite and what it might mean to me as throughout the week he’s mentioned, more than once, that Thursday night is the night where you can celebrate your birthday with the clan. It really means a lot to me as I’ve not celebrated my birthday with anyone from the clan except from Straka and maybe Warface.
I change the subject and ask Soly about her day, she tells me that she went to get her nails done and I ask did she go for the pedicure and she says that she skipped it. Joggy tells me that they visited Sungei Wang/BB Plaza, followed by Fahrenheit 88, Lot 10, Star Hill Gallery and The Pavilion. He tells me that he did end up buying one or two things in the end, a shirt and something else, maybe shoes.
He tells me that his legs are aching but he’s overall satisfied that he walked the whole thing, saw everything, the whole lot of what KL shopping has to offer. I ask him, “How was it?” and he responds playfully, “I’ve had better” and cracks up laughing.
Our waiter returns with laminated menu’s and we listen to his advice and decide on a series of satay skewers to begin with followed by a few meat platters and breads, all of the meat will be skewered to some degree and the breads kinda like Indian Naan breads with various dips and some salads, the waiter says, “Oh you just put it all together how you want” and this makes sense. We decide to go the whole hog and order two of these meat platters and then order some beverages while we wait.
I ask the waiter will it be enough and he says, “Sure sure 1 platter for 2 people more than enough”.
But it isn’t. The platters come while I’m considering ordering a 2nd beverage as the first small can of lemonade has barely touched the sides. Then here comes the meat platter and when it arrives it really doesn’t look like a lot, and you could suppose that it probably wasn’t as Me and Lively absolutely destroy our entire platter in a matter of minutes.
Joggy and Soly finish in a time frame not that far between me and Lively, while I pick the meat out of my teeth with a toothpick our waiter returns and clears our plates and asks us about taking coffee and dessert, “Dessert?” I say to myself raising an eyebrow, but somehow I feel kinda meh to the idea, like the amount of food we just ate was just right, not too much, not too little and I don’t feel even the slightest bit bloated.
Joggy asks our waiter to give us a few moments and then calls the waiter over to have a chat with him. He whispers to the waiter, “Mate do ya reckon we could smoke one of those pipes?” and the waiter blushes as this is a routine from tourists he’s seen all too often. He smiles sweetly and says, “Do you mean a ‘Shish’?” and Joggy nods his head, “Yeah yeah that thing” and our waiter smiles and says “Of course, follow me”.
The waiter leads us towards the cash register so that we pay for our meals first, Joggy gets the whole thing and smiles and says, ”It’s the least we can do Mr. B”. Then we’re taken upstairs to the balcony and before we step out there’s another cashier who we’ll have to pay for this privilege at some point. Our waiter leads us to a table and begins to describe the process, he says that we can choose from around 12 different flavours, we ask he what’s a nice one for first timers and he says, “Oh the Apple is very nice, very soothing, but the Mint is also lovely” and Joggy says “We’ll go for that, the Mint”. Our waiter smiles and then disappears and reappears in moments, he brings over a hookah and places it at the corner of the table and places down some hot coals over an exhaust area and then hands Joggy the pipe, “Enjoy your Shish” and since Joggy is a smoker he asks, “Can I inhale?” and the waiter says, “Yes you can but people usually just puff”.
We all take a turn, taking long pulls from the pipe, puffing it out, but somehow I accidently inhale and as a result I feel sort of high, not stoned mind you but sort of serene, calm and I feel cool as fuck.
While our waiter is adding fresh coals to the hookah to keep it going Joggy asks the guy, “Hey what’s in this thing?” and the waiter explains, “Nothing bad, we’re not allowed to” and Joggy laughs and kids with him, “Oh come on there’s gotta be something” as we’re all feeling too good for it to be nothing. Our waiter explains that it’s like the equivalency of smoking a packet and a half of cigarettes at once, I raise an eyebrow to this fun factoid as that is some cancerous shit right there.
Our waiter disappears and we all enjoy playing with the Mint flavoured smoke, we know that the whole thing is for show, something for the tourists to simulate hashish smoking like the Arabs of old might have done, while it might be corny we all get a slow-buzz from smoking from the hookah and feel really mellow and cool.
We sit out on the balcony long into the night, there not a single fuck is given, we enjoy a slight breeze drift by, the smoke doing it’s thing. We gaze at the moonlight, we watch couples smoke hookahs together at different tables, we see clusters of tourists who look just like us smoking hookahs for the first time, everyone is smiling, everyone is smoking. Our entire crew is feeling really chilled out, enjoying our time together, when Joggy asks, “You liking it Mr. B?” and I smile brightly back at him and whisper softly at all three of them and say, “I’m fucking loving this”
* * *
When we’re done at the Sahara tent we simply float back to the hotel as I don’t remember walking. At the hotel we find Jeff sitting downstairs being attended to, he's in the midst of finishing hamburger and chips with Elis in attendance, on her knees beside him, pouring a bourbon and coke. We all sit around Jeff and Elis's team mate - Ali comes on over and asks us what we want to drink, I immediately decide against my usual, though the ever faithful, if somewhat parochial - vodka tonic and instead ask to see the cocktail menu. I look over at Joggy and he already has a copy and he hands it to me with a devilish grin, "Wanna get fucked up Mr. B?". Indeed, I scan the menu of cocktails and see some cocktails that I've tried before, like the Grasshopper or Singapore slings. I consider a Dry Manhattan and have the idea to smash a few Long island Iced Tea's but unfortunately this isn't available on the menu. What I really want are Illusions and I discuss it with Joggy but we already know that the bar doesn't have any Midori. Then Joggy says to me, "I've got an idea" and he grabs Jeff and Soly and heads over to the bar to speak to the manager.
Meanwhile Ali asks me what do I want and as undecided as I ever I'm still pondering, she playfully suggests, "A Beer perhaps?" and I dismiss her gesture, with a wave of my hand, 'bah!' at this unwanted offer and I say somewhat defeated with a fake smile, "I guess I’ll have a vodka tonic".
Two vodka tonics later, Joggy returns from the bar and places a cocktail glass in front of me with a blue colour liquid. "Drink it!" he says, and as I do my mouth warms with three different flavours, there is three layers of sediment colour at work here and as I get to each layer there’s a different taste that accompanies it. He gets me to stir it and this changes the overall flavour completely. "What is it?" I ask. Joggy tells me it's called a 'Fruit Tingle' and tells me that between Soly, Jeff and the bar staff they've just worked out how to make them properly. At one point Joggy says he was behind the bar but the staff were cool as fuck, they tried to make it half a dozen times and the staff just threw out the tests they made until they had perfected it. Joggy is pleased, "this is the way a hotel needs to be for its guests" because so far Joggy and Soly have noted the terrible strained effort for even the slightest of 'out of norm' requests that we've made.
So far tonite Joggys trolled through two cocktail recipe books and has made the perfect drink, "What now?" I ask in anticipation and Joggy just smiles, "there's a mixed jug of Fruit tingles for us to finish Mr.B" and then it's on like donkey kong.
We drink, we order snacks, I go for a bowl of chips n' gravy, someone else orders some club sandwiches and satay sticks, we eat and the liquior keeps flowing. My heart keeps to the beat to the of the music played by the hotel band, we sing along, we whistle and cheer, we're all warmly welcomed by the band as their 'Australian friends', we request songs and then we drink some more. All the time we're laughing, so happy, so comfortable with each other, so very relaxed.
Somewhere in-between songs Joggy has spoken to the band about another request and after they've played ‘Rolling in the Deep’ by Adele, the little backup singer who has actually been singing lead vocals all night comes up to me and asks do I want to dance?
I'm speechless, this girl is a knockout, so very beautiful, way out of my league, so what do you think I’m gonna say here No? I go to say "Fuck yeah" but all that comes out is "Errr err ah" and she smiles and takes my hand lifting me out of the seat. And this is the first time I’ve been standing in nearly two hours and the fruit tingles kick in. Joggy, Soly and Jeff are laughing there asses off till it hurts them, but I am loving the attention "Oh fuck yes, I am pissed", I have to really work at getting my balance and then walk over to her, she is hurrying me along with a cooing curled up finger that says "Come this way boy" and I go to her, enchanted by her sirens song, stumbling, ambling about the lounge, my quest - the maidens hand, though I am monk like, trupped out and mega keen, I walk to the beat of my own song, the drumming in my heart, lust lingering in my gaze toward her, my eyes saucer like, drowning in her beauty, a vision.
She takes my hands and wraps herself around me, she moves totally at ease with my bumbling form, she moves, oh how she moves, like smoke, I hear Sade played in the background of this moment, though it be any song, inside my head my own song plays, soft, slow, sweet, yet I am carnal, something stirs and I awaken the use of my legs and move her about, her small hands cupped within my own monsters paws. I want her, No, I want to destroy her. She sings along to the song, looking me in the eyes, "Maybe tonite" she whispers, "Maybe tonite, who knows when"
And it's a beautiful dream, the gang is happy for me, Soly has filmed the whole thing on her camera phone, the evidence is there, the look of complete joy and happiness captured to the beat of a song.
When we’re done I thank her and give her a quick hug, she takes it all in her stride like it’s nothing, I walk back to the lounges where the crew are chilling and they are cheering me on like sports fans.
“Mr B.!” Joggy is ecstatic, and Jeff is like, “You old honey dripper”, Soly is laughing holding up the camera on replay saying, “I got the whole thing”. All I can say is “Wow, she’s beautiful” and Joggy smiles at me and says, “Happy birthday Mr. B” and I look at him and mouth the words, “Thankyou”, knowing that he set the whole thing up, but Joggy just casually nods his head with a smile.
Joggy, Soly, Jeff and I keep drinking, in between the bands song sets we take the happy snaps from our cameras, striking poses with the band, the bar staff manager and the hostesses or even just firing off photos of each other. I can’t recall how much money we spent on booze but it was heaps, we all chucked in, but I’m certain Jeff and Joggy took the lions share of the bill.
Listening to the house band has become a nightly ritual for us and when they finish their set tonite they make sure to include Swing Out Sister’s – ‘Breakout’ and perform a encore of Adele’s - ‘Rolling in the Deep’ that some other punters have requested.
We wave goodbye to band while they are still packing up their gear and all go up the elevator together to our rooms together. We’re all hammered, still laughing and the smiles are still fixed firm on our faces as we leave each other in the hallway. 5 minutes later I’m laying on my back in bed I’m still smiling, I can still hear the music, my own music to be sure, the coming together of crew in this place, our union here no different from our nightly rituals across cyberspace. And it’s there that my dreams will go tonite, lost in freefall, dancing on lights, guided by seven stars.
