One of the perks of writing at a lifestyle magazine is free drinks. Sadly, they don’t come at the snap of a finger but instead at media events—shop openings, soft openings, try-our-food-and-drink shindigs, etc. The organizers normally time these from 6-10pm with the rationale (I’m assuming) that you show up after work, have a few cocktails and then head home for a restful night. It’s only people like me whose eyes go kid’s-cartoon-wide for free drinks and then go blackout like it’s their job—and it is—at these things.
Last week I ventured to Taboo—an Arbuthnot Road lounge that’s opening sometime soon in September—for their media event, with the dual purpose of checking out a new club and also sampling free drinks. I was there at 7pm with the idea that I could have at least as many drinks as the time it was (and I succeeded). Here are some things that went down.
- The lounge has a “speakeasy”-type entrance with a false wall that you push a button to open. The door person has to push a button I think, because I thought it was automatic and walked directly into it about three times, injuring my face, shoulder, and arm.
- The upstairs had an angel theme—all white—and the downstairs a devil one—all red. It’s pretty cool. They were making those molecular cocktails, which I always appreciate for show but I normally prefer my beverages without foam or fruit caviar. Since I had a long day and was really going for it I ordered two “smoked” old fashioneds, where they infuse smoke with the use of a smoke gun, which looks like a strange sex implement. I downed them quickly and started coughing hysterically because you’re supposed to sip and enjoy the smoke instead of recreating a three-alarm fire.
- My friend and I watched this dude hit on this girl a lot and he kept coming back and touching her, so we started making bets on whether they’d get together. Also, I kept coughing from the smoke. Then, he put his hand on her in a way that meant he would either get arrested or hook up. They left. Success!
- In the “Hell” section they had a girl dancing in this glass cage looking sexy and very sad. I always feel bad for club dancers—there’s never a more “going through the motions”-type job than hour after hour of dancing. Club dancers are the opposite of Thailand: a land of no smiles.
- After my fifth drink I started up a conversation with a very pretty Caucasian girl with small metal glasses. “Don’t talk to her,” my friend advised. “Girls with glasses like that are mean.” I told him he was ridiculous (I am firmly in opposition to Dorothy Parker’s aphorisms). I asked if he could get me a non-smoking cocktail and then joined her talking circle and we chatted. “A great advantage of being a girl,” I stated, “is that you can slap a guy in the face whenever you want. Like, if I were in a club and saw a girl slap a guy, I would immediately assume that the guy did something wrong.” I further explained that I would constantly slap guys if I were a girl. The girl-in-glasses (GOG) looked at me agog and said, “THAT’S the advantage?” “One of them,” I explained. She said, “what about the miracle of life?” I said, “That’s cool but you need some sperm to do that so it’s not just a girl that can do it.” “Oh, so we’re just a vessel?” GOG retorted. “When did I say that?” I said. Then GOG turned to me and said, “This conversation is OV-ER”, and she turned her back hastily. “Wait!” I said. “I was just jok—“ “Nice to meet you,” GOG cut me off in an awesome, only-in-the-movies type of way. I felt bad until I realized we were in Hell (the “naughty” part of Taboo) so it was kind of expected. “She should have just slapped you,” my friend said. I agreed.
Yalun Tu is a columnist for HK Magazine. You can reach him at [email protected] or@yaluntu on Twitter.